Chapter 28
HONOR
Dewalt’s heavy footfalls were the only sounds in the half-empty tavern. There should have been laughter and boisterous conversation, but the moment the enormously tall man opened the door, no one made a single sound. Though Dewalt was over a hand-span taller than me, sometimes I forgot just how big he was compared to most people. Ducking under the door frame as he walked in, he’d shoved his hand beneath his cloak. I’d noticed he’d taken to rubbing his chest when he felt any sort of unease, though I suspected his fingers were tracing the cool metal of one of his daggers instead.
“How many rooms left?” he asked the barkeep. I stood a few steps behind him, pulling my cloak tight. Conversations halted as about a dozen men stared at the two of us. One man’s gaze was searing as it went from my head down to my toes. He didn’t leer, just stared at me with beady eyes beneath bushy brows, but it still discomfited me. Instinct brought me closer to Dewalt, my arm brushing against his as I stepped beside him. If it were anyone else who stood there, I wasn’t sure they’d bring me as much relief. He held the confident air of someone in charge—someone people should listen to, and someone who certainly shouldn’t be crossed.
“Three. One bed in each room.”
I pressed my lips together, stopping myself from asking Dewalt about sleeping arrangements. It was one thing to lay amongst men on the tunnel floors as we traveled; it was entirely another to share a bed. Or was it? As a novice, I’d have been beaten for considering such a thing—or worse. Thinking about the soldiers, I determined sharing a bed with Fletcher or Dickey was quite different from sharing the bed of the man beside me. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about why.
“Meals?” Dewalt asked, and the man behind the counter told him what we’d be entitled to with the rooms—ale and stew, it seemed.
My heart began to ache, wishing Eradia and Salas were here. Even though I’d barely spoken to them, the other women would have been a comforting presence in a place such as this—with more men than I could count. But they were dead. They were dead because of me. I’d begged Rhia to heal Salas until her last gasping breath, but my prayers had gone unanswered. I hadn’t even begun to understand the depths of my guilt over what happened.
It was all because I’d been careless.
How could I have known Penellion, the man who had been so friendly the past few weeks, had plans to betray me? Had he been speaking true about the Supreme? Certainly, if he was, I’d have been handed over immediately. I thought of the parchment he’d given me, a means to leave Astana. I should have known. When I ran into him the night before we left, I’d merely told him goodbye, thinking it would be rude of me to disappear after he’d given me an opportunity to leave.
I should have realized he’d wonder how I planned to leave Astana. But how could I have known he’d been searching for some secret route out of the city ever since the queen mother and the princess had left under the cover of darkness? That he’d find a conduit who, when told where to look, was able to sense the obsidian tunnel.
Dewalt had pried the information out of the last member of his group while I cowered in the tunnel and watched. He’d been a fearsome opponent, nearly as tall as Dewalt but twice as wide. Using his limited divinity, the man had pulled up tree roots in an attempt to stop his opponent, but Dewalt was too fast, too agile, and too determined. I hadn’t allowed myself to look away, ensuring I saw every consequence of my decisions. Dewalt used his own divinity, sending impulse after impulse to the bested man until the words poured out of him. Satisfied there wasn’t a traitor in our midst, Dewalt didn’t linger, ending the man’s life—clean and quick.
I’d endangered those whose duty was to protect me. Dewalt was the only person I could truly trust, and I’d put him in harm’s way because of my stupidity.
It was all my fault, and I’d mourn those three soldiers the rest of my life.
When Dewalt pulled out three gold and two silver coins, placing them on the counter, my mouth dropped open. One gold could have bought the entire winter wardrobe Dewalt had purchased for me. The fact he paid it without bartering or remarking on the extreme cost of the rooms made me blink up at him. Perhaps that price was standard; it wasn’t as if I had any knowledge on the matter. Certainly he wouldn’t want to draw attention to us. His hood was pulled up to protect him from being recognized, but with his expensive boots, massive sword, and extreme height? He stood out. Dewalt had been at King Rainier’s right hand for years and years. I would have recognized him within a moment, and I rarely left the temple.
“You’ll get your own copper; don’t worry about sharing,” he murmured as the man behind the counter walked over to a wall with six hooks. He favored one leg over the other, and I couldn’t help but like him a little more for it. There was always a special, silent sort of camaraderie between people who dealt with chronic pain. I didn’t mind the cost of his establishment so much anymore. Truly, I shouldn’t have minded at all—I wasn’t paying for it.
“What is a copper?” I asked, voice quieting as the man walked back over with three keys in his hand.
“A bath. We all need one, and you’ll get one to yourself. Along with your bed.” Though the news of a bath soothed me, I didn’t know which was worse: having to share a bed with one of the soldiers or staying alone in my room in a building full of men. When I didn’t respond, Dewalt eyed me from beneath his hood. Before my racing thoughts could devolve into panic, a smirk curved the edge of his mouth. My eyes were drawn to the single dimple he sported, and something inside me sighed—however faint.
No matter how grumpy he’d been toward me in the past, no matter how distrustful, his contagious smile had given me joy. After the moment in the princess’ quarters, when he’d kissed me and touched me and made me yearn , I had thought I’d see more of that happiness. Even with the hesitation and the harsh words he’d given when Martyr Lucia’s picture fell, I’d wanted more of those blessed smiles.
He lowered his head to speak to me. “You snore, so it’s better for everyone, really, if you’re by yourself.”
“I do not!” I argued, louder than I meant to.
The barkeep—or owner of the inn, I wasn’t sure—glanced between the two of us before making a contemplative sound. “Don’t be lettin’ anyone but me know ye’re not together,” he whispered. Grey whiskers protruding from his brows distracted me as his forehead wrinkled.
“What does that mean?” My heart pounded over the deadly gravel in Dewalt’s voice. He bent forward, nearly silent, reminding me of the black panthers Declan had kept as pets. I’d remembered warily looking at them as I’d walked past the menagerie on occasion. Quiet and beautiful, they’d watch everyone with gleaming eyes. Observant and deadly.
The barkeep held up his hands. “The single men went off t’ Astana. But those wi’ families on the eastern side of the mountains were given leave t’ stay. They gotta work the mines to feed their families.”
“Who is buying silver, anyway?”
“They take it to Nara’s now. Then over t’ Varmeer where Skos comes fer it.” The man grabbed a mug, turning to the wooden keg behind him and pouring some of the honey-colored liquid before sliding it across the counter. “The Crown gets their cut too. Said they’d be buyin’ more after everythin’ is over.”
“Mm, and how many men are here now?”
“‘Bout two dozen. Some live here, others got houses they built for their wives and children.”
Dewalt grabbed the mug, taking a healthy swig of it before setting it down with precision. “And the men given leave to stay,” he started, slowly turning his mug in a circle. “The men left here might be less than respectful to an unaccompanied woman? Is that what you’re telling me?” he asked, loud enough for his words to carry. Dewalt leaned forward, elbows on the counter. For someone trying to stay unrecognized, his bit of bravado wasn’t doing him any favors. But perhaps he was trying to send the message that he was not to be provoked.
The old man tilted his head, quirking a brow and shaking his head. “Aye. It’s been a long winter, and ye know how the worst o’ us can be. I ain’t witnessed nothin’, but I wouldn’ risk it either.”
I shuddered, feeling as if my stomach were turning inside-out. Closing my eyes, I tried not to think of the hollow-eyed novices shoved out of Declan’s quarters. My father’s quarters. I desperately twisted my mother’s ring on my finger, accidentally bumping Dewalt’s hip with my elbow. I watched as the gold band turned round and round, glinting from a lantern’s light.
“Then it’s a good thing my wife is not unaccompanied,” Dewalt said, loud enough that it wasn’t remotely subtle. I blinked, surprised by his words.
Something which felt a little like fear and a lot like embarrassment bubbled in my throat, and I didn’t know what to do with it. It was the same feeling when he’d kissed me at the temple. When I’d kissed him . I fought a smile, remembering how we had pretended to be something we weren’t. Skies, how had I been so bold?
When he put an arm around my waist and pulled me close, his fingertips were gentle as they pushed into my skin. I wondered if the queen had told him how far my scars reached, or if he suspected. Or perhaps, he just had a soft touch. I liked that possibility best of all, and it brought an inconvenient heat up my neck and over my jaw. Dewalt pretending to be my husband didn’t have much effect on me, considering we’d pretended in a similar manner before, but the rest did. I liked the idea that he touched me that way, not because he thought me fragile, not because he assumed I was weak or incapable, but because he wanted to be delicate. Because he touched those he cared about with exquisite precision. When he pressed his perfect, unrepentant lips to the top of my head, I was pulled from my licentious thoughts. Maintaining my expression to keep up the ruse was far harder than it should have been.
I’d thought Dewalt couldn’t stand me. Though he’d offered me a fragility I’d never seen from him the night before, he’d been so stubborn and demanding and downright bossy afterward that I’d dismissed it immediately. I thought I had seen a crack in his armor. The sullen mask he wore, birthed from the scar over his heart, had lifted for a brief moment, splintering beneath my touch. Until it repaired itself with haste. But I couldn’t keep from wondering if perhaps it was a start. And when Dickey had told me whatever I was doing for Dewalt was bringing him back, determination implanted in my heart like a weed. Hope had bloomed, climbing sweet and sticky up my throat like stubborn honeysuckle.
As Dewalt led me to the stairs, one hand on my lower back like it belonged there, I pretended for just a moment that it did. I nearly convinced myself that things between us had progressed, and his possessive touch came from a place of desire rather than protection. I snorted at the notion. The only reason he’d seemed like himself the night before was because I’d goaded him into it. Maybe, just maybe, if I annoyed him into oblivion, he’d return to his old self. I would watch him jest and tease, and his smile would light up the room once more. I hadn’t realized how desperately I’d craved that version of him until I thought I could be the one to bring it back. Until I’d needed it to help bear the weight of my own sorrow.
When he fitted the key in the door, pushing it open and stomping in before me, I nearly skidded to a halt. I hadn’t thought what it would mean for him to play as my husband. The room was small, and it only took him a moment to check the places a would-be attacker could lie in wait. When he stopped in the middle of the room, frowning at me, I tilted my chin up and stepped inside. As I stared at the bed, far too narrow for the two of us, I cleared my throat before speaking.
“I hope you like the floor.”
Squeezing my eyes tight, I burrowed deeper beneath the scratchy blankets. It wasn’t as soft as my bedroll, but the mattress was more comfortable than the stone I never quite grew used to. My toes were freezing, the heat of the fireplace only warming my back. But that same bright glow was enough to keep the copper tub warm for Dewalt to bathe in it. Facing the other side of the room, I was painfully aware of the very large, very naked man taking a bath behind me. Each splash, each sound of a washcloth dragging across his skin, seared my senses. I hadn’t thought he would fit into the tub, let alone sit in it comfortably for longer than a few minutes.
“Are you almost done?” I demanded. When I opened my eyes, they were drawn to a knot on the wooden plank wall. A shadow drifted over it, the image of Dewalt’s arm lifting as he washed. My nostrils flared.
“Almost, songbird,” he said. My skin grew heated. He’d only called me that once before, and the way he’d said it, low and lazy, felt almost like a caress.
“I still don’t understand why?—”
“I’m not doing this again, Nor. You cannot go down there by yourself, and you can’t stand outside the door like I did for you. Everyone else is resting, and I’m not going to make them watch over you so I can bathe. Besides, you’re my wife, remember? How would that look?”
He was right, though it pained me. I’d already harmed the other soldiers enough with my carelessness. “Not your real wife,” I muttered, knowing it wouldn’t matter.
“I don’t know why you’re so bothered. You turned away, and anything you might find interesting is hidden beneath the water.”
My ears grew hot. It was perhaps the only time I was thankful for their missing points when I knew he wouldn’t see their vivid red. Still though, I pulled the blanket up higher. “I don’t find anything about you particularly interesting.”
“It’s nothing more than you’d see at a beach or a swimming hole,” he continued, disregarding everything I said completely.
“I’ve never been to either of those places.”
“What?” Incredulous, his voice rose. I was fairly certain he dropped his washcloth based on the splash. “Wait. You’ve never been swimming? You don’t know how to swim?”
Frustrated, I sat up, pulling the blanket nearly to my chin as I leaned back against the headboard. Folding my hands in my lap, I focused on them instead of looking at the painfully nude man beside the bed. I nearly closed my eyes when, in my periphery, I could still see swaths of his smooth, copper skin. His arms were spread wide, resting on the basin, and his head was tilted back, exposing the column of his throat.
“I rarely left the temple. When I did, it certainly wasn’t to go swimming,” I explained. “So, no. I don’t know how to swim.”
He made a thoughtful noise, and I wondered what he was thinking. I fought my instinct to fool around with my hair. Even though it was braided, the urge to do something with my fingers was there. My mother encouraged me to wear it up in a bun for as long as I could remember, and I’d only stopped once the veil became part of my wardrobe. I had always wanted to do something with my hands, and it had been a subject of great irritation for her. Twisting her ring around my finger, I wondered if it would have vexed her. Between the fidgeting and how often I spoke out of turn, I often wondered if my mother wished for a different daughter. There were other novices not so easily distracted.
“I learned to swim late too. Never had the time. When I was younger, I spent most of my time working the farm or hunting.”
Dewalt had never mentioned his life before befriending the king. I wasn’t sure what was making him open up to me, but I was curious. “Which crops did you grow?” I asked.
“Corn and beans, mostly. Sometimes squash. I didn’t learn to swim until the summer I met Rainier. He was doing his first tour of Vesta, meeting the people he’d one day lead—all that royal bullshit. It was hot outside, and he wanted to swim. My father was too busy bartering a better deal for corn with a councilman, so he tasked me with entertaining him.” Water sloshed as he adjusted, and I looked away as he sat up. “Rainier is a couple years younger than me, and I was afraid he might have thrown a tantrum if I didn’t take him somewhere.” He chuckled, and I gave up averting my eyes just to see his smile. His expression drew winsome, past memories fresh in his mind. I was entranced. He’d never been so open with me. “But when I nearly fucking drowned, he used his divinity to push the water toward the opposite lake shore. Just enough so I could touch the bottom. He’s been my best friend ever since.”
Though I knew they’d been friends for a long time, it was a lovely insight into their relationship. And into Dewalt. I’d learned more about him in these past few moments than all my snooping and prying combined.
“Do you want me to teach you to swim?” he asked.
I gaped at him, surprised he’d offer. “I-I don’t know. It sounds a bit frightening.”
“Nor, aren’t you afraid of horses?” He sat up straighter, revealing more muscled chest and a puckered scar far too close to his heart. I couldn’t look at it. When I didn’t answer, he continued. “You remember when you wanted to confront Emmeline? You leapt onto the first beast you could find and rode like there was fire on your heels. I barely beat you there. And you rode with me when—seven fucking hells. Was that why you didn’t want to ride with me in the fucking snow that night?” At my sheepish nod, he shook his head. “Well, you’ve done fine the past week, even if you could use practice mounting and dismounting. But that’s neither here nor there. I wouldn’t let you drown.”
Quietly, I pondered it for a moment. “I don’t know why you’d want to, but fine. You can teach me.” And then I laughed, surprise pushing out the noise. “Last summer I was arriving in Folterra as a novice-turned-prisoner, never even having seen a man’s chest,” I laughed, gesturing to him, “and now this summer you’re going to...” I trailed off when Dewalt’s eyes met mine. They had narrowed, the dark brown smoldering in the firelight.
“Who?”
“Who what?”
“Whose chest did you see in Folterra?”
My breath caught. His quick concern made me feel something I probably shouldn’t have. “No one. I just meant...I just meant my life is very different now than it was then.” Though his shoulders relaxed, his brow arched in demand. Like he didn’t believe me. “I swear. Actually—erm—I’ve only seen one man’s chest before.”
Wicked. That was the only word to describe it. The curve of his mouth, the touch of his tongue to his teeth. His exact expression was alluring enough to make one act against the gods—I was sure of it. Wars fought in Hanwen’s name had been started for less. I closed my eyes to the assault, and was only punished further when I remembered the taste of his lips, followed swiftly by the gentle touch of his fingertips as they parted my skin and pressed inside me. And the desire for him to do it again nearly overwhelmed me.
“You’ve only seen me?” he asked, leaning back in the basin. I would have thought he was intentionally flexing his muscles if it weren’t the fact I knew his body was all toned strength without showing off.
“Yes,” I said, and my voice was far huskier than it should have been. When his gaze grew heated, the only sound in the room the crackle of fire, I rushed to fill the silence. “I-I suppose I might have seen the chest of some soldiers before they—before they died. But they were usually covered—I’m sorry. Is it strange that I’ve only?—”
“You’ve never let your gaze linger,” he said. “Go ahead, Nor. Look your fill.”
And gods forgive me, but I did as he said. His chest was smooth and hairless—not like other men who had hair curling up from the top of their shirts. I liked that for some reason. His body shone, the small drops of water on his skin catching the light. My cheeks heated when I looked at his small, dark nipples. But my gaze was quickly drawn to the scar above his heart. A little lighter than his natural skin tone, it appeared well-healed. It brought back painful memories, despite the fact he sat here, alive and acting like himself—no, acting better than he’d ever been with me. But it wasn’t enough. The mark was a reminder of yet another thing I was responsible for. I blinked away the emotions it unveiled.
“Nor,” he said, clearing his throat. “Please, don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice watery. Though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t apologize again, I hadn’t expected to see the evidence so clearly.
“Look away,” he ordered, and I obeyed.
He climbed out of the tub, and his footsteps moved toward the small chair which held a thin linen towel. A moment later, his bare feet came into view where I stared at the floor. Before I could react, he sat on my side of the bed, the towel wrapped tightly around him. Suddenly, the handsome, naked man’s hip pressed against my blanketed leg. If I hadn’t been so full of sorrow over what had happened to him, I might have been tempted to reach out and touch the hard planes of his body. But instead, my chin wobbled as I held back tears. When I’d taken my bath, I’d been tempted to cry because of everything that had happened, but knowing he was just on the other side of the door, I’d managed to keep them at bay. Now though, my guilt threatened me with blurry vision and a choked feeling in my throat.
“I’m the one who should be sorry, Honor,” he said, and I lifted my head, my full name unfamiliar on his tongue. His hair was damp, mostly dry from how long he had lingered in the bath. That beautiful smile was gone, replaced by a crooked frown. “I should never have treated you like I did.” And then his hand was reaching out, cupping my face, mirroring what I’d done to him the night before. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while now, but I never really felt like it was a good time. But I am sorry, Nor. You are kind and good and you’ve been through so much. I acted like an ass, and you didn’t deserve that.”
“No, I didn’t,” I agreed after a moment’s pause, leaning into his touch. “I forgive you,” I added. The moment he’d lashed out, I knew it came from a place of hurt and fear. I’d forgiven him the moment he did it, and again each time he’d been cold afterward. If there was one thing I could thank the Myriad for, it was that understanding. Many came to the temple in desperation, hoping the gods would listen if they only prayed in a holy place. Those harsh emotions, making people feel unsafe or weak even, were unforgiving.
Dewalt had nearly died, and someone who stole my face had been the one to do it. Of course, he had been cruel.
“I won’t do it again,” he said, and his eyes darted to my mouth.
“No, you won’t,” I agreed again, and my tongue had a mind of its own when I licked my lower lip. I was certain he was about to kiss me, and I would have been lost. It was too soon to trust him with that, and I didn’t want what happened in the princess’ chambers to happen again. I couldn’t bear to repeat the moment when regret had painted his features sharp and he’d barked harsh words at me. So when Dickey banged on the door, shouting about a disagreement in the tavern, I jumped backward, grateful for the interruption. Dewalt made no such move, only dropping his hand from my face as he continued to watch me.
At Dickey’s second knock, Dewalt gave a gruff, “Hold the fuck on,” before standing. And when he turned towards his clothing, I ate up the vision of his muscled torso, looking my fill.
The line of his tattoo, the constellation of stars trailing down his back, brought my eyes downward. As my gaze tracked over the curve of his taut, muscled bottom, I decided it wasn’t enough.