Chapter Twenty Seven
Rhael had decided it would not be safe to travel so late at night. Even after the Siren Queen had left and the lantern light steadied, something remained unsettled in the air.
“It is only a few hours until dawn,” I had argued, watching as he returned to scanning the room. Already calculating threats and exits that I could not see in the way he did.
“Which is exactly why we will stay here, predators enjoy following in the early hours.” He warned. His tone was final, calm, as if he had done this before. As if it wasn't unusual to be hunted by a creature very capable of tearing me limb from limb.
I had felt it when she had tried to pull me in. Felt the desire to submit, to allow her to do anything she wanted. My blood betrayed me from the inside out.
Without another word Rhael stood and offered no explanation to the tavern keeper as he handed him a small satchel full of coins. Much more than the room would have cost, but the innkeeper did not argue. Instead, he barely met Rhael’s eyes when he handed over the small iron key.
I followed, keeping silent. The small, crooked staircase that led up to the rooms groaned beneath our weight as we climbed. The air grew warmer the higher we went, thick with trapped heat and old fabric. The sounds of the tavern dulled below us. Reduced to a low hum of human voices.
Without the rope tethering us Rhael walked slightly in front of me, his large strides making up two of mine as he moved down a thin, dimly lit, damp smelling corridor checking every room number he passed.
The walls leaned inwards as though the building itself was tired of standing, Wallpaper fell in strips, sagging pathetically around doors lined either side. Warped wood and iron handles worn smooth by years of use.
He stopped in front of the third door on the right. Pausing for a moment to listen before unlocking it. Opening up to a small room before ushering me inside, looking back down the dark corridor before closing the door and locking it behind us.
The room was smaller than I had expected, even for the tavern. The ceiling sloped near the window, and the lone bed was pressed against the far wall. Its frame was simple and scarred by time. A narrow table sat beside it one leg shorter than the others.
The single window overlooked the alley behind the tavern. Its shutters were functional but old, the latch rusted faintly. It smelt of dust, old linen and faint traces of lavender. Perhaps left behind from some previous occupant, who had tried to mask the age of the space.
If there was anything the opposite to Rhael’s castle this would be it. The room was mortal, temporary, vulnerable, and yet it felt safer than the tavern below.
“It will do.” Rhael said, undoing and discarding his cloak over the only chair in the room, which looked as though one of the legs had snapped and it had been glued back together again.
“Do you think she will return tonight?” I asked, as I stood near the door, looking around, wondering if there was any viable route of escape should I need one.
“If I know Maeve as well as I hope, she will not do it tonight, not here. She will wait. If she does not accept my offer it is best to believe she will align herself elsewhere. Either way. We have done what we needed to. The war is ready to begin,” he muttered moving towards the window, testing the shutters.
They stuck half way giving way with a groan.
Outside the alley was dark and narrow, moonlight barely reaching the ground between the leaning buildings.
“She threatened me.” I whispered my eyes staring into his back. My eyes fixated on his back waiting for him to respond.
“She threatened a lot of things,” he responded, causing my eyes to narrow.
“One of them being me,” I said once more. Emphasising that whilst she may have threatened balance and other concepts, but it had been my life. My very real, animated life, that she had seemed intent on taking.
“Yes, she did, but that will not happen. Now sleep.” Rhael ordered, tone flat, as he finally turned around finally facing me. His eyes were focused, as if he was deep in thought, almost looking through me rather than at me.
Silence stretched between us as I crossed my arms over my chest. I had expected something more. An explanation, reassurance, something that would stop my mind from spilling with endless possibilities. Instead, he gave a command, which gave an opening for the rage I had been holding back for hours.
“Don’t do that.” I sighed, refusing to look at the bed. Not entertaining his command of sleep.
“Don’t do what?” He asked, raising a brow as his fingers undid his jacket, slipping it from his shoulders with practiced ease.
“Speak to me like that,” I snapped, pushing all of my effort into not watching his hands as they moved to his shirt. Slowly undoing buttons. If I didn't know better I would say he was doing it intentionally, but I did know better, and Rhael wasn't like that.
“Like what?” He asked again and I let out an exasperated sigh. That was intentional. I could see by the way his eyes caught the light, flashing with something that almost resembled playful mischief.
“Like you get to tell me what to do!” I replied, shrugging off my own jacket, throwing it towards the chair, watching as it landed pitifully on the floor in a crumpled heap.
“Have you forgotten your purpose so easily?’ He smirked, his dark eyes looking up and down as that dark ring of metal dug into his lip. It was hard not to be attracted to him, even in his arrogance.
“We both know my purpose isn't the same anymore.” I whispered, letting my hands fall to my sides as I tilted my head. Something inside me clicked, a bravery I was not expecting as I looked at him.
Desire ignited in me as I watched him. For months I had tried to deny how I felt, ignoring every touch. But after that kiss, I would have been lying to myself if I tried to push it away anymore.
I wanted him, wanted to prove that I was more than just a slave, more than his companion. That he wanted me just as much, that his life was tied to mine through so much more than just duty.
“My word still stands regarding your safety.” He warned stepping forward, not close enough to really have an impact but further into the room. His shadow casting over my face as he blocked the only lantern on the far wall.
“And if I tell you I can protect myself?” I ask stepping forward to meet him.
“Elara, this is not my forest, not Vaetharyn. The danger here is different.” He whispered, as if he was talking to a child. Causing my eyes to narrow. I didn't want him to see me as a child, as weak. I had proven time and time again that I could handle this and I would not back down now.
“My situation proves I know exactly what the dangers are!” I remind him. Watching as realisation clouded his features, as if finally, he recognised that I had once lived within the slums, that my tie to him was proof of my suffering to its violence.
“Yet you still challenge me.” He mused a small laugh escaping him as if he found it humorous rather than alluring.
“I have always challenged you. That has not changed?” I asked, my confidence wavering for just a second before I forced it back into place.
I wanted this, wanted him to say it, to admit that he wanted me.
To give in, even if it was just once and it never happened again.
I would prove I could break him, that I was worth something.
“Neither has your status,” he said, his voice low as he stepped forward closing the distance between us. We were now chest to chest, so close I could smell the smoke from the tavern on his skin. His eyes looked down on me, a flash of desire crossing his features before it disappeared.
“Prove it. The Siren Queen knew you desired me. She said it!” I whispered, my voice soft where his was hard as I tilted up my head so I could maintain eye contact.
“My desires do not come into it. I am King!” He sighed and I wanted to curse. Instead, I took in a deep breath, thinking of my next words carefully before they escaped my mouth.
“Not here you are not.” I reminded him, my eyes searching his own, begging him silently to be the man I knew he was, not the King everyone wanted to see.
“Elara,” he warned, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair from my face. The touch was tender, soft, wanting but not taking.
“If nothing has changed, prove it. Walk away now. Sleep in the bed or on the floor and don't touch me. Don't think of my body pressed against yours, or the way my lips feel against your skin.” I whispered, my lips brushing against his but not fully touching. Just a whisper of skin against skin.
“You test me.” He groaned, his hands raising to grip my waist, keeping me still against him.
“I am asking you to prove it,” I repeated, pressing my chest to his. Warmth flooded my cheeks, knowing if he denied me now I would never be ready to do this again. Even if he asked for it. Even if he begged.
“Fuck it!” He growled before I watched his control shatter.