Chapter 30
DEWALT
“My great-granny swears up and down that our downfall started with the Myriad,” Fletcher said, earnestly as he looked at Nor across the table. Though I’d locked the door behind me, expecting her to stay put while I dealt with whatever the fuck Kife had gotten himself into, she’d slunk down the stairs a few moments later. She’d started her descent with a timid eagerness, but the moment she saw me, she straightened her spine, summoning all her courage at once.
I didn’t love the idea of her being surrounded by all these men who their own barkeep didn’t deem trustworthy, but I didn’t much like the idea of her being away from me either.
Tucked away in a shadowed corner, I could see the entire tavern. A large fireplace sat beside me, providing most of the light. The flames danced a warm light across her face, and I did my best not to stare. Lanterns were scattered around the room too, illuminating the wooden tables.
“Sorry,” Fletcher said, blinking those big pale eyes at her. “I don’t mean to insult you, but you essentially spat on your heritage by being a novice,” he said.
“Enough,” I said, as Nor looked down at the table, tracing her finger over a knot in the wood. Most of the furniture was made crudely, not manufactured beneath artisan hands. She seemed out of place. Everything smelled of alcohol, and someone as poised and controlled as Nor didn’t quite fit in.
“I did learn some good things being in the Myriad, but I can’t say you’re wrong,” she said, not raising her gaze. “Are you speaking of how the Myriad took control of the font? Because…” She hesitated, swallowing as she looked up at me. “I think I was probably taught a different version than you were. And perhaps no one quite knows the whole truth.”
“Let me guess. The elves were abusing the font, and the Myriad had to step in?” Fletcher suggested, stifling a hiccup.
She nodded, pursing her lips. “I wondered if that was why I had to hide what I was. Maybe it was my mother’s idea all along.” When she tucked her hair behind her ear, I couldn’t help but notice the path her fingertip took, tracing over scarred skin.
“They’re a bunch of cunts, so—” Fletcher said, then slowly turned to face me, eyes somehow wider than I thought possible, before he turned toward her again. “Except you. And your mother. I’m sure you both—Hanwen, help me,” he mumbled, and Nor snorted.
I ignored Fletcher as he stood, stumbling toward the bar. I should have cut him off, but instead, I turned to look at Nor. She was smiling after him, and the small beast in my stomach sat up, lying in wait since the moment in our room when I’d nearly kissed her. I took a swig of my ale, hoping to douse the fiery emotion I couldn’t quite acknowledge as jealousy. When she glanced over at me, her smile faded. I knew I needed to say something, to break the silence and alleviate the tension I’d stupidly caused between us.
But words failed me, and I lost my chance.
“Tannyl would have taken back the font for its rightful owner,” Fletcher said, stumbling toward our table far faster than I would have liked. I stood, grabbing his mug from him before he sloshed it all over Nor.
“Rightful owner?” Nor’s nose scrunched up as she looked at him, completely unbothered by the drink I’d saved her from.
“You think the gods would have chosen the Myriad to control the font?” Fletcher asked, his expression a little too close to a sneer for my comfort. I pushed down on his unharmed shoulder, making him fall onto the bench beside me.
“I-I don’t know why not,” Nor said, frowning, as she pulled her hands into her lap. I knew what she was doing without seeing. Her mother’s ring had caught the light while she twisted it on her finger over various occasions.
“Fletcher, be easy,” I warned. She was still reeling from a whole hell of a lot of information from the past few weeks. The way he leaned forward had me itching to pull him back by the collar. I didn’t think he had anything other than passionate opinions in mind, but I still didn’t like it.
“Granny reckons it works on everybody,” he whispered. “But we wouldn’t know, would we? Not since the first Supreme.”
Nor stared at him before tugging her lower lip in between her teeth. I loved that expression on her—curious and contemplative. It wasn’t the response I expected. “No, I suppose we wouldn’t know. What makes her think that?”
“Why else would they guard it so heavily?”
Nor’s eyebrows gathered, and she looked at me for my opinion.
“So there’s enough to last?” I offered, but the idea of defending anything the Myriad had ever done sat heavy in my gut. When I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her, realizing she was the best thing that gods forsaken nightmare had ever produced, I swallowed hard.
I needed another drink.
“You want to know what I think, Nor?” Fletcher asked, propping himself up on his elbow, still favoring the arm in a sling. “I think those of us with elf-blood should take control of it once the Supreme is dead. I’m a descendant of the royal family, you know. Which in turn means I’m a descendent of the antler god, Iemis himself.”
“People from Skos believe Shika’s tale is actually about Iemis and the Mother goddess rather than Hanwen and Rhia. Did you know that?” Jumping on the opportunity to distract myself from Nor, I inserted myself into the conversation.
“Thyra tell you that?” Fletcher asked, looking dubious. “She was probably just trying to make you regret your tattoo.”
“I wondered if that was supposed to be the Shika constellation on your back,” Nor said, and her cheeks flushed crimson as Fletcher turned his mischievous grin on her. Speaking quickly, probably for fear of Fletcher saying something untoward, she stuttered over her words. “You have quite—a lot—you have quite a few tattoos.”
And before I could stop him, though I knew what was coming, Fletcher turned to the woman beside him. Not even darting his eyes toward me, he asked, “What does the tattoo on his ass look like? Please, I’m begging you. I know it’s a letter, but what does it stand for?”
Innocent as a babe in comparison to the blond elven man, Nor’s eyes widened at his words.
“I don’t know!” she shrieked, mouth agape as she turned her gaze on me. “I mean, I haven’t—I don’t know what it stands for because I have not seen it!”
Panicking, I said the first thing to distract Fletcher from his line of questioning. Was I rescuing Nor or myself? “It is absolutely not possible that Tannyl is a descendent of Iemis. Where are your antlers?”
And it worked. Within an instant, Fletcher was rambling on about his ancestry. Releasing a sigh, I decided to find myself the drink I’d so desperately needed a few moments prior.
“Praise the old gods and the new,” I murmured.
Fletcher told anyone and everyone about how his great-great-great-grandfather was the product of an affair between Prince Tannyl’s younger brother and a mortal handmaiden. As far as being a descendent of the forestborn god of legend, I was less convinced. His family was one of the only lines which focused on continuing to marry amongst those with elven-blood, determined not to let their species die out. It was why his ears were so noticeably pointed and why he’d been so adept at using magick. He’d already taught Nor a few things while down in the tunnel, but I was eager for her to learn more once we arrived at Nara’s Cove. The more she knew, the easier it would be to protect herself.
Detachedly, I glanced over at them while I waited for the innkeeper, watching Fletcher talk excitedly about the heirlooms his family had held onto over the years. The weight in my stomach returned when I began thinking about little tow-headed babies with sad, hazel eyes who chewed their lips while they concentrated and fidgeted when they were uncomfortable.
Divine fucking hell.
“This all you want tonight? You sure you don’t want stew?” the innkeeper asked, drawing my attention. Eyeing the cooking pot hanging in the giant hearth, I sucked my teeth. I’d had a bite of Fletcher’s stew when I’d come downstairs, and it left quite a bit to be desired. There was hardtack in the room I’d rather eat.
“I’m sure,” I said, and then jumped as a light touch caressed my back.
“Sorry,” Nor whispered, standing on her tiptoes to rest her chin on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you, husband.” A smile threatened the edges of her pursed lips, and they seemed just as kissable as they had been an hour before when I was wrapped in a towel with her in arm’s reach. When we were both sitting on a bed and much better suited to reacquaint our mouths.
I needed to stay far the fuck away from her. What was I thinking?
“I’m going to go up,” she said, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear. Bold, she was, with a lie to explain why she touched me like this. I wasn’t fool enough to think she’d have such inclination if we weren’t playing a role.
The two of us were always pretending at something we weren’t. But she’d shed the Myriad like an outgrown shirt and was learning to be something else—something true . Ending the bond with Lavenia was one of the most honest things I’d done in a while, but I wasn’t sure if that counted for much. Still, though. Being around Nor made me want to figure it out. Which was dangerous in itself.
Every muscle in my body seized as she pressed a kiss to my cheek. And when she lingered, waiting for my reaction, I refused to let myself move. Despite every instinct telling me to turn and fold her into my arms, to give her a real gods damned kiss, I mustered every bit of self-control I’d ever had and stood still. When she pulled away, the bergamot scent of her hair and the ginger of her salve lingered in my nostrils.
“Go to bed, pigeon,” I said, trying to hide her affect on me.
“Perhaps your tattoo is an ‘H’ for hateful. Or maybe ‘D’ for Dewalt, because you can be quite an ass sometimes,” she retorted, face screwed up in irritation, and I couldn’t tamp down the bark of laughter which fought its way up my throat. It surprised her too, given the look on her face, and her lip trembled as she tried to push her smile away. Without another word, she turned on her heel and headed toward the staircase.
“Lock your door,” I called, voice hoarse. She waved a hand at me as she stalked away, as if it were the most obvious reminder in the world, before taking the stairs two at a time like she couldn’t get away fast enough. Grabbing my ale from the innkeeper, I surged toward the stairs, listening for her steps to fade and our door to lock. And when I finally exhaled, long and slow, I knew I had to exercise some form of self-preservation and stay away.
I was about to tell Turman, Fletcher, and Kife to finish up and head to bed when Dickey sat down across from me, his third mug of ale in hand. I should have cut him off an hour ago, but I’d never seen the boy looking more carefree. I’d been his age before, and there was only so much trouble he could get into in this small, isolated town, so I allowed him to indulge.
I was paying attention to other shit anyway.
Tense after my interaction with Nor, I’d had to settle another dispute with one of the miners on Fletcher’s behalf. And every moment after had been spent with a watchful eye on the stairs. The landing was right above me, so it was easy to see who went up and listen for their footsteps. The only occupants of the third floor were my own soldiers and one other man who still sat at the bar. Nor would be safe alone until I went up there, and if I heard someone turn up a second flight of stairs, I could be there in a moment.
“Thank the gods we’re only here for the night,” I murmured when a cheer went up to celebrate the outcome of an arm-wrestling match. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with all of this for more than that. I would have enjoyed this atmosphere once—not that long ago, either—but I was tired. If I weren’t so irritated with myself, I would have gone back up to my room the moment I settled their dispute. But there was too much on my mind, so I chose to stay downstairs for a little bit longer.
Ciarden’s ass, I wanted to kiss her. So much for arm’s length.
“Tell me,” Dickey said, eyes bleary as he struggled to hold his drink. The man was always anxious, and this was the only time I’d seen him shrug off his worries and have fun. Still though, I didn’t sign up to babysit him.
“Tell you what?”
“Everything.” Propping his chin in his hand, he raised an expectant brow. He’d been spending too much time with Emma. “Perhaps starting with when you got married and when you were planning on telling the rest of us.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “Mind yourself.” The only person nearby was Fletcher, but I didn’t want to risk the ruse offering her safety by being overheard.
“Well? Shouldn’t you be enjoying your bride?” When Dickey’s eyebrows waggled, I sighed. Fletcher plopped down onto the bench beside me before interjecting himself.
“I know I’d be enjoying her if my woman looked like Nor. Gods, you can tell those legs are?—”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Fletcher, or you’ll be meeting your antler god sooner than you think.”
The elven man nodded, appearing to think better of staying to discuss Nor further, before he stumbled back to the bar.
Just as Dickey was about to speak again, I held up my hand. The miners were slowly but surely clearing out of the tavern, many going to their own recently built homes. One man stumbled up the steps to his room, and I listened to make sure he continued down the hallway. When the door opened and shut nearly directly above us, I dropped my hand.
“You’re the biggest pain in my ass, you know that?”
“That’s quite an achievement, sir.” Dickey paused to hiccup. “Thank you.”
When he drank from his mug again, I picked up my own. I’d been nursing the same ale for the last hour. It wasn’t very strong, and it didn’t taste very good, but I had to have some sort of excuse for staying down here. He was right; if a man had a bride like Nor, he should have been thoroughly enjoying her, not abandoning her upstairs only to be surrounded by men and drink. But I couldn’t go back right away. With how badly I still wanted to kiss her, the memory of how she’d once whimpered and relaxed under the press of my lips fresh in my mind, it was a risk I couldn’t take. I’d told her once before she was dangerous, and that still held true. The only difference between then and now was the reason.
When I’d apologized to her after my bath, she had forgiven me in an instant. Her eyes had been so full of understanding, it had disarmed me; she knew better than I did why I’d behaved the way I did. But perhaps that wasn’t a statement on her own level of discernment but instead an insight that I was not so fucking special. I was just like anyone else she’d been around during her time as a novice. I had thought what I’d felt that day was anger—at her, at Lu, at myself. Her tenderness after my apology hadn’t been a response to anger, but something more complicated. Something I hadn’t even begun to think about myself.
The more I thought about it, the more the scar on my chest ached.
“But—” Dickey hiccuped. “But will we all be invited to the real one?” He looked down, trailing his fingertip through the wet ring his mug had left on the table. I didn’t have a moment to react to what he’d said before he teared up. “Salas would have been so excited.”
I sighed, ignoring the implication and trying to offer comfort instead. “Salas was a good soldier. I’m sorry she died.”
“Everybody dies,” Dickey said, staring into his drink. My mouth went dry.
“How old are you?”
“Just turned nineteen,” he said.
Swallowing, I cleared my throat. “Eventually, everybody dies. But it’s what we do in the meantime, in spite of loss, that matters.”
He only blinked at me, slow and separate, like a frog. “Coming from you?—”
“I know. And that’s why you should listen to me. I know what I’m talking about.”
“She suspected it—Salas.”
“Suspected what?”
“You know,” he said, smiling down at the table. His face was flushed. “Don’t make me talk about your feelings .”
“Gods,” I said, exasperated, running my hands through my hair with my elbows on the table. What could I fucking say to him?
I want Nor, but I don’t deserve her? Her smile is the most radiant thing I’ve ever seen? I’ve never been more terrified?
“She thought it would be Nor who instigated it, though. Not you. I’m impressed, sir. I don’t know what happened when you got stabbed, but you’ve been kind of an asshole ever since. I’m surprised you got her to like you in spite of that.”
“Go to bed, Dickey,” I said, but instead of listening to me, he stumbled over to the rest of my soldiers, knocking over a chair in the process. When Kife decided it was time to start singing yet another shanty from his seafaring days, I tossed back what little bit was left in my mug and stood. Sleeping on the floor didn’t exactly appeal to me, but listening to Nor drift off had become something of a ritual.
Fuck.
I wiped my hand over my mouth, tossed a silver on the table, and was about to tell my men to wrap it up sooner rather than later, when a loud thud stopped me in my tracks. A woman’s screech followed within a moment, and my blood ran cold. Heart hammering in my chest, I scaled the stairs three at a time, calling out her name.