Chapter 39
The balcony was exactly where I expected him to be. Varyth stood at the railing, spine rigid, hands braced against the stone like he was holding the world together through sheer force of will.
The last rays of sun bled across the horizon, all gold and crimson and dying light that painted his silver hair with fire.
He didn’t turn when I approached. Didn’t acknowledge the sound of my boots against stone. Just stood there, carved from ice and misery, watching the day surrender to darkness.
“Varyth.”
His shoulders tensed. Every muscle locked down tight like he was bracing for impact.
I stopped a few paces behind him, giving him space even as something in my chest screamed to close the distance. “We need to talk.”
“I believe we’ve said everything that needs saying.” His voice was empty. Scraped clean of anything resembling emotion.
“No.” The word came out harder than intended. “We really fucking haven’t.”
He finally turned. His eyes found mine, and the devastation I saw there made my breath catch.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For my behaviour in the training yard. For—” His voice faltered. “For making you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”
“What?” I took a step closer. “That’s what you think you need to apologise for?”
“Among other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like not realising sooner.” His hands flexed against the stone, knuckles going white. “I should have seen it. Should have understood what was between you and Fenric.”
Oh.
Oh, you absolute fucking idiot.
“Varyth,” I started, but he was already turning away, already rebuilding whatever walls I’d somehow managed to crack.
“It’s fine,” he said, and the lie was so obvious it was almost insulting. “You don’t owe me explanations. Your personal relationships are your own business.”
“There’s nothing between me and Fenric,” I said, resisting the urge to shove him.
“The training yard would suggest otherwise.”
“The training yard would suggest I’m a better fighter than he is,” I countered. “Which is objectively true and has fuck-all to do with romance.”
“You were straddling him.” The words came out tight. Like he was using every ounce of restraint not to break something.
“I was pinning him. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” He turned back to face me fully now. “Because from where I stood, it looked remarkably intimate.”
Heat crawled up my neck. Not embarrassment, but fury. “You saw me holding his hand in the courtyard and decided what? That we’re secretly fucking? That I have feelings for him?”
His silence was answer enough.
“You’re unbelievable,” I breathed. “Actually unbelievable.”
“You were holding his hand,” he said, and there was something almost desperate in his voice now. “Right there in front of everyone. Looking at him like—”
“Like what?” I demanded. “Like he’s my friend? Because he is. That’s all he is, Varyth. A friend who needed support while his—” I caught myself just in time, swallowing the words that would out Fenric and Linc’s relationship. “While he was worried.”
Varyth’s eyes narrowed. “Worried.”
“Yes.”
“About you.”
“No, not me, you idiot.” I closed the distance between us, anger making me reckless. “I mean yes. He’d just found out Lincatheron and I had faced Xyliria. He was worried about both of us, and as his friend I held his hand. Because he’s nice and worries about the people he cares about. His friends.”
Varyth stared at me like I’d just told him the sun rose in the west.
I crossed my arms. “So all that?” I gestured vaguely back toward the castle. “All that possessive bullshit in the training yard? That murderous look when I was sitting on Fenric’s chest? Completely misplaced.”
His throat worked. Swallowed hard. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” The words came out rougher than intended. “There’s nothing between Fenric and me except friendship and a shared appreciation for thoroughly humiliating overconfident warriors.”
Varyth’s hands were shaking. Actually shaking where they gripped the stone railing behind him.
“I’ve been planning his murder for a week,” he said quietly. Conversationally. Like he was discussing the weather instead of premeditated homicide. “Since I saw you holding his hand in that courtyard.”
Despite the fury simmering in my veins and the confusion tearing through my chest, laughter bubbled up. “You’ve been planning Fenric’s murder.”
“Very thoroughly.” His eyes locked on mine, molten and fierce. “I had nineteen different scenarios. Each one more violent than the last.”
“That’s deeply unhinged.”
“I’m aware.” He pushed off the railing, closing the distance between us. “Do you know what it did to me? Watching you with him? Thinking you’d chosen—” His voice cracked. “I saw the way he smiled at you. The way you made him laugh. How comfortable you were with him, how easy it all seemed—”
“Because we’re friends,” I repeated, my voice raising now, the words echoing off stone. “Because I can spar with him without drowning in guilt or confusion or wanting to simultaneously murder and kiss someone until neither of us can breathe.”
Varyth went very, very still.
“Isara.” My name came out broken. Desperate. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re an idiot.” I was close enough to touch him now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“I’m saying I spent the last week looking for you because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands in my hair and your mouth on mine and the way I came apart in your study before I panicked like a fucking coward—”
“You didn’t panic.” His hands found my waist, tentative, like he was afraid I’d bolt. “You froze. There’s a difference.”
“Feels the same from where I’m standing.”
“It’s not.” His grip tightened, pulling me closer by inches. “Freezing means you were scared. Panic means you wanted to run. But you didn’t run, Isara. You just... stopped.”
“Because I felt guilty.” The words tasted like ash.
“Because touching you felt like betraying—” I couldn’t say the name.
Couldn’t force it past my lips when Varyth was looking at me like that, when his hands were burning through my clothes and making my skin sing.
“I felt like I was doing something wrong.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m furious.” I grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric hard enough to wrinkle.
“Because you spent a week avoiding me instead of letting me explain. Because you saw me with Fenric and decided that meant I wanted him. Because you just apologised for kissing me like it was a mistake instead of the best fucking thing that’s happened to me in—gods, I don’t even know. ”
His eyes went wide. As though I’d just ripped something vital out of his chest and held it up to the light.
But he still didn’t move.
Didn’t reach for me, didn’t speak, just stood there with his hands frozen at my waist and his mouth slightly open like he’d forgotten how words worked.
So naturally, I decided to be an absolute menace about it.
“Unless,” I said, letting my voice drop into something dangerous, something that tasted like smoke and recklessness. “You’d prefer I walk away right now. Maybe I should go find Fenric after all.”
“Don’t you fucking dare." The words came out in a snarl.
And then his hands were in my hair and his mouth was crashing into mine.
I made a sound—half gasp, half moan—and kissed him back with everything I had.
Every ounce of frustration and confusion and want I’d been shoving down for the past week came pouring out in the way my hands tangled in his hair, the way I pressed against him hard enough to feel every line of his body against mine.
His hands slid from my waist to my hips, gripping with bruising intensity as he walked me backward until my spine hit the balcony rail.
The stone was cold against my back but he was molten against my front, all hard muscle and devastating heat as he deepened the kiss with a growl that vibrated through both of us.
“Fenric?” he managed against my mouth, teeth dragging over my bottom lip.
“Friends,” I gasped, arching into him as his mouth moved to my jaw, my throat, that spot below my ear that made my knees weak. “Just friends.”
“I’ve was ready to kill him,” he murmured against my lips, teeth grazing my bottom lip hard enough to make me gasp.
“Every time I saw you smile at him. Every time you touched him.” His mouth moved to my jaw, trailing fire down to my throat.
“I was going to make it look like a training accident. Very tragic. Very unfortunate.”
“You’re insane,” I managed, my head falling back to give him better access.
“You make me insane.” His teeth found my pulse point, biting down just hard enough to draw a sound from my throat that should have been illegal.
“Seeing you with him. Thinking he had what I—” He broke off with a growl, pressing me back against the stone railing.
“I’m glad I can cross that off my to-do list.”
“What, murdering Fenric?”
“Among other things.” His hands slid down to grip my thighs, and then he was lifting me, settling me on the railing with my legs wrapped around his waist. “Though I may still maim him on principle.”
“Don’t.” I pulled him closer, revelling in the solid weight of him between my legs. “He’s been through enough.”
Varyth’s laugh was dark and feral against my throat. “Oh, I don’t think so. Not nearly enough for making me think—” His hips rocked forward, and the hard length of him pressed against me in a way that made coherent thought impossible. “For making me believe you wanted him instead of me.”
“I never wanted him,” I breathed. “I wanted you. Even when I was trying not to. Even when I thought I shouldn’t.”
His mouth found mine again, and this kiss was different—slower, deeper. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were molten, pupils blown wide with want.
“I’ve been planning a murder too,” I admitted breathlessly.
He raised an brow. “Have you?”
“Yes. Yours. For being an insufferable, cryptic bastard who speaks in riddles and won’t just say what he fucking means.”