Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Thear’s booming voice drowned everyone else out as he finally appeared in the room. His large hand reached through the crowd and plucked Aemyra to safety.
Before anyone else could intervene, Thear pulled her through the doors and down the corridor.
Away from the bustle of the receiving room, the rest of the manor was quiet, save for the creaking floorboards under Thear’s weight.
“What is it?” she asked. “Is it Eilidh? Is she all right?”
With a knowing smile, Thear replied, “She is sleeping, but your quick work saved her life.”
Aemyra breathed a sigh of relief that Eilidh hadn’t succumbed to her injuries, yet, and Thear led her through a servants’ entrance to the small kitchen.
“Trust you to find the food,” Aemyra said.
Thear was already halfway into the pantry.
“Priorities.” He shrugged.
She watched Thear’s broad shoulders, muscles bunching under the clean shirt he had changed into.
How could she marry this man when she felt only an ember of what had burned inside her for Fiorean? How could she burden herself with more guilt when she now knew she had killed her husband for the wrong reason?
“I’m so stupid,” she whispered into the quiet kitchen.
Thear turned, his amber eyes perceptive as ever. “You are a lot of things, Aemyra, but stupid isn’t one of them.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
Much to her surprise, he shrugged. “I don’t need to. But you do need to eat.” He pushed a chicken leg toward her.
Despite everything, she was famished. The meat was well salted, and her mouth flooded at the taste.
“Well, I’m not executing the cook, that’s for sure,” she said between bites.
Thear smirked. “Joking is good. You’ll never get through it otherwise.”
Losing her appetite, Aemyra set the chicken leg down, suddenly aware that she was about to behead a man for the solstice ritual. Rubbing the mark on her palm, she knew there was no way Brigid would accept this sacrifice if she hadn’t accepted that of Fiorean.
Thear noticed. “Your magic will return in time, and I’ll take over the translations from Eilidh. Adarian and I will find an antidote soon,” he said with quiet confidence.
Aemyra shook her head. “I should have just sacrificed a goat for the solstice like usual and sentenced Maryk to life imprisonment. Hundreds died in the valley because of my orders, and Sorcha won’t be the only one who hates me for it.
The Dùileach are still fighting without magic because we are no closer to the antidote, and Eilidh almost died trying to help rescue the princesses.
Katherine has told me things that have me questioning all rational thought, and Fi—”
Her words died on her lips as she almost spoke his name. Thankfully Terrea was still asleep and she was spared any invading memories from Aervor.
Unsurprisingly, the tears came.
“Shh, a caraid,” Thear whispered, stroking her hair. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Sniffing against his shoulder, Aemyra couldn’t see how.
Thear raised his hands to unfasten the buckles of her armor.
She cried silently as he undid the left pauldron.
The spiked dragon head was heavy and she breathed a sigh of relief when Thear placed it on the worktop.
Without saying a word, he repeated the process with the right pauldron, then slowly reached around her neck to unfasten the cuirass.
He smelled clean, his bronze hair still damp from his bath. His cheek brushed the curve of her jaw as he undid the buckles between her shoulder blades.
Aemyra wanted to say something cutting or witty. Anything to distract from the prickles on the back of her neck as her breastplate came away from her body, freeing her breasts in the thin shirt beneath.
“You need not shield yourself from me,” Thear said, setting the armor on the cracked floor.
Aemyra didn’t know what to say as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I must shield myself from everyone,” Aemyra whispered, more tears spilling over. “Too many times I have put my trust in the wrong people. Tonight I found out exactly how poor my judgment is.”
To his credit, Thear didn’t protest. Instead, he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, catching the droplet from her eye.
“I knew what I was getting myself into, and I can handle it,” he said.
It should have made her uncomfortable, being so close to another man after finding out the truth about Fiorean. Instead, she clung to Thear harder.
“I should return to my chambers.”
“If you have trouble sleeping, I’m happy to come upstairs with you.”
She hesitated, his face a little blurry with her tear-filled eyes.
“To sleep, only,” Thear clarified. “Ceana slept in my bed for a year after our mother died. Sometimes you just can’t be alone.”
Sliding off the counter, Aemyra surprised herself by nodding.
With a gentleness she never would have expected from someone so outwardly strong, Thear lifted her into his arms.
“It would be an honor, my queen,” he said, earnestly.
The chimera warrior carried her up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat, glaring at every guard whose eyes lingered too long on the woman in his arms.
His presence in her bed should have kept her awake, but the minute she curled into his warmth, Aemyra finally found sleep.