Chapter 12 #2
“What’s your name?” I asked, placing the dripping lamp on the small table, hesitating a moment before letting it go entirely.
The excruciating pain I experienced when Beatus wrenched it from me was fresh in my mind, but it didn’t come when my fingers slipped from the metal.
The intense attachment I had from the moment I entered the tomb, the draw, wasn’t to the lamp anymore.
It tugged from another direction, the opposite side of the tent where the man stood. Silent and watchful.
The man didn’t reply, tilting his head again and studying me. I tried another question, one I hoped he would answer. “Why am I so drawn to the lamp? To you?”
“You are the one who released me. We are linked by magic of the Gods. It demands our connection, so you are drawn to me and while I’m inside the lamp, to it.
We cannot be parted until your wishes have been granted.
” His voice was calm when he spoke, his explanation raising more questions than he answered. Still, his words sent my heart racing.
“You can’t leave?” My quiet voice held a hint of vulnerability—I couldn’t begin to ascertain as to why. I glanced down, tracing the intricate engravings on the lamp’s surface with my eyes to avoid his. He didn’t reply and still hadn’t given me his name. That bothered me most.
I tried again. “Why did it hurt when someone tried to take the lamp from me before, but I can let it go now?”
This question, he answered, moving farther into the tent as he did. “The magic demanded my initial release. Now that I have been, you no longer need to touch the lamp, though you must keep it with you always.”
Wista arrived before I could ask the other questions filling my mind. She halted at the sight of my companion, the pail of steaming water in her arms sloshing. When she glanced my way, I did my best to offer her a reassuring smile.
If it were any other man, I wouldn’t want to be alone with them. Especially here. But there was something about this man—an inexplicable feeling of comfort and safety wrapped around me in his presence. Something I hadn’t experienced since my parents had died.
“I’ve come to prepare your bath, Adelia. Food is on its way,” my new friend said, moving behind the privacy screen.
“Thank you, Wista. I can help bring the water in.”
Her denial at my offer was unsurprising, so I waited in silence, looking anywhere but at the man who was equal parts intriguing and attractive.
Wista announced my bath was ready, saving me from the awkwardness.
She sent a disapproving glare to the man who still stood within the tent.
My face heated. If we couldn’t be parted, did that mean he would have to stay inside the tent while I bathed?
Gods, I would be mortified if he wouldn’t be able to go far enough away when I had to relieve myself.
There was an awkward beat of silence before the man inclined his head and exited the tent without a word, giving me the privacy I required. He stood just beyond the entrance, arms folded across his chest as he surveyed the camp like he was daring someone to approach.
“Come along, Adelia,” Wista said after releasing an exasperated sigh. She led me around the privacy screen, and I went through the motions of undressing and getting into the tub.
“Eleanor?” I asked, settling into the steaming water, the warmth soothing my aching legs. I didn’t need to say more, she knew what I was asking. Was she safe and unharmed?
Wista placed a towel and, thankfully, one of my own, more modest nightdresses beside the tub before she responded. “She’s fine, I was with her all morning. Lord Harkin has taken her for a trip to the village. I tried to go with them but …” She winced.
I’d forgotten Harkin had offered to take her to see the musicians.
“You couldn’t because you’re assigned to me?”
She nodded once. “Meline and Pierce are with them though.”
At least they weren’t alone. I trusted Pierce enough to ensure she’d return, and Meline had seemed kind.
Harkin had better behave himself, or I would make good on my threat—no matter my sister’s feelings.
I would have to find her first thing in the morning.
There was nothing I could do about it now, not with my “guard” just outside.
I closed my eyes, leaning back to let the water soothe my neck, and focusing on the relaxing warmth instead of the potential danger my sister was in.
I didn’t think I would ever get used to this treatment, a warm bath at the end of each day.
At Port’s Tavern, I was always too tired to heat enough water at the end of the shift.
The bathing room we had access to didn’t have the newest plumbing, and I often opted to bathe in cool water, only forcing myself to heat it at least once a week or so to clean my hair.
I didn’t linger tonight, acutely aware of the man waiting outside the canvas walls.
Once I was done, I dressed and wrapped myself in a silky robe. The beautiful man entered the tent, and Wista left to collect my evening meal, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed in his direction before she disappeared.
I was awkward under his scrutinizing gaze, clearing my throat and twisting my hands in the robe to keep them busy. What did he see when he looked at me? A loyal servant to the king? Or did he see underneath my facade to the darkness within? To the person struggling to keep a doomed promise.
“Please tell me your name,” I blurted into the silence. I couldn’t take it any longer, I needed to know who he was, what to call him.
He tilted his head again, the animalistic move making me squirm. “Please,” I repeated when he still didn’t speak.
“I no longer have a name.” There was a hint of sadness in his tone, sadness laced with longing. I had so many questions, but an intrinsic part of me knew he wouldn’t welcome them.
“Well, I’ll give you a name, then.”
His pupils dilated, darkening his gaze for a moment. He blinked once, and they returned to blank gray.
“Do you have a preference?” I asked, unsurprised when he didn’t respond.
I was already used to his silence at my probing. It didn’t matter. He needed a name, and I would make sure it was a good one. One that was him.
I took a moment to really study him, delving deeper than when he first emerged from the lamp. I had noticed his beauty then and my instant attraction. My heart raced, and wings fluttered in my stomach.
He was perfect in his harshness. Skin smooth, almost to the point of perfection, save for the silver line across his cheekbone, barely discernible under the flickering candlelight.
His strong body so obviously made for battle and intimidation, yet when I looked at him, there was only the draw—the desire to be closer to him.
Strength radiated from him in spades, and he needed a name to reflect that. Leon?
No. Not right.
Although he exuded strength, he was also shrouded in mystery. Perhaps, Arcane?
I shook my head, even though I hadn’t said the name aloud.
The man shifted, almost uncomfortably, and smoke shimmered and swirled, creating dancing shadows across his skin.
It came to me.
“Shade.”