Chapter 24
twenty-four
Aelen had healed my lip, cleaned the wound, and set me up on the lounge with a quilt. Then, he’d disappeared until moonlight poured through the thin panes, and the fire was nothing but smoldering embers.
That’s when a knock came at the door.
I knew who it was before I opened it, but when he walked in with a wine glass in one hand and goblets in the other, I thought I might collapse to my knees.
“You brought wine?”
A sly smirk slid across his face. “You’re so observant.”
But he wasn’t mocking me; he kept his tone low and velvety, borderline sultry. Heat flushed between my legs, and I tightened my thighs.
He gave me an uncertain look and lifted the bottle. “Think of this as an apology.”
As he stepped into the light, he flicked his palm to stoke the flames, but snow clung to his locks, like stars in his midnight hair. This time, it was loose and pooled down his shoulders and spine. I noticed every time it shifted, and his hair fell into his face.
I couldn’t help it when my hand shot up to tuck it behind his pointed ear. “Aelen apologizing? I almost don’t believe it.”
He grinned. “Perhaps a bottle could open your mind to such things.” He stroked a finger along the bottle’s neck, and the cork slowly wiggled out by itself.
“Neat trick.”
He pulled out a chair at the ancient table, and I took the seat gladly.
If this were a few hours ago, the stark wood would likely have caused awful pain after the rough training session, but after he healed my lip, he pressed his waves of healing magic into my muscles.
Though I requested he not, I thought the pain might give me something to remember the next time he appeared with a blade.
He ran his finger down the chair beside me, and my heart jumped, thinking he might take it. But he swiftly swept to the one across from me and threw himself into it.
Without looking up, he began pouring the wine. The trickling hung between us.
“So that’s why you appeared bearing wine—to apologize—which you haven’t yet.”
His hand shook ever so slightly. Not enough to spill the wine, but enough to disturb the stream. “I have no qualms apologizing if I have erred. You were injured. I made a mistake.” Once the glass was terrifyingly full, he slid it over, his fingers never leaving the stem. “I’m. Sorry.”
I took the glass and downed a greedy gulp. “That sounded painful.”
“It was terribly excruciating. Horrible. Awful. Whatever shall I do to recover from such a slight?”
“You could drink,” I replied and took a deep sip.
He lifted the goblet to his lips to hide his weak smile, but did a terrible job.
“Indeed, I could,” he said, lowering the glass. He circled his finger across the lip and let out a tired sigh. “You know, you wield your tongue like a weapon, and you’re quite good at it.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds dangerously close to a compliment.”
“It is. That’s one of the many things I admire about you.
But it comes as a warning, unfortunately.
If your father is anything like mine, he’ll possess an equally sharp tongue.
This is why I said what I said earlier. You held your own better than I expected, but a single word was all it took to get you off balance.
When the time comes, your father won’t be as forgiving. ”
I didn’t indulge in the glass, merely staring at my distorted, silver reflection. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“You should, I only have your interests at heart. As you not-so-subtly implied, I care about you and your well-being, but I can’t protect you when you face your father. I can’t be there to fix any mistakes or missteps you might make.”
“You just said I fared better than you expected.”
He moved to tapping the side of the glass.
“Better, but not perfect. I threw you off and easily baited you into a trap with a well-placed insult. That’s not something you can afford when it comes to your father’s divine energy.
For god’s sake, the man has lived centuries. You tell me, do humans live centuries?”
“No, but—”
“Don’t you know what it would do to me if he hurt you? If he killed you? I would lose what little is left of my mind, and cleave the world in half in its wake.”
I straightened and slammed my hand against the table, shaking the goblets. “I don’t have a goddamn choice, Aelen. This pact is killing me.”
“It doesn’t have to—we could figure it out. Our leader could add more to it, give you more time, and we could find a way to shatter its terms forever.” He knitted his brows together and he stared down at the knotted wood. “I want you to stay here. With me. In Eltide.”
He stole my breath, like all of the air in the room was sucked out. The temperature warmed, far too stifling to sit and certainly too thin to breathe. My heart drummed its resolute elegy in my ears, while my brain begged me to stay, and my feet ached to flee.
“I need to think,” I replied unconsciously. My limbs and fingertips ached with numbness and pinpricks as I tap, tap, tapped the table.
Then, like the coward I was, I changed the subject. “Is that all you came for? To spout veiled threats and strange warnings?”
“I admit, it pains me to say this. To speak it out loud, and give it such tangibility…”
“Enough with the preamble.”
“I wanted to get to know you more. And to let you get to know me more. We spend so much time together, I wish there could be…” He bit his bottom lip. “More.”
“If there’s more, do you think I’ll stay?”
He sipped his wine gingerly. “Yes.”
“And what exactly is this more you seek?”
Aelen rose, fingers trailing the table until he sat on it beside me, letting the wood creak beneath his weight.
He loomed above me, but not a bit of menace clung to his features.
“I need you to stop pretending there’s nothing between us.
You infuriate me to no end, but you’ve never lacked sense.
You’re wickedly intelligent, almost maddeningly so.
A lesser man you’d have driven insane by now. ”
I gazed up at him and swallowed, searching for the right response.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he shot back.
“You know what I’m speaking of. How many times have we kissed?
Shared touches, and intimate moments—when we practiced with Mourn and you leaned into me, rubbed your sweet little body all over me, and then pretended it never happened.
You drive me up a wall, and yet I still come back for more. Stop making me beg for your love.”
His voice hung in the air, and his words were so tangible I could cut them. I wanted to give in. Every part of me screamed to let him take me into his arms, to let him hold me, kiss me, touch me. I didn’t want to spend a night with Aelen, I wanted to spend every evening with Aelen.
But for some reason, my mouth failed me, betrayed me like a great bitch.
“It’s not like this frozen hellhole could ever be my home.” I inhaled the bitter liquid, letting it burn down my throat.
His face distorted with anger. “What, the cottage I’ve given you? With warmed wine and everything you could ever ask for? Perhaps if you’d let it be a home, instead of running from anything that scares you, princess.”
“I don’t run from things,” I pressed, my voice rising with every word. “I like nice things, like castles and dresses.” The attack rolled off my tongue like a knife, lashing me with each syllable.
Stop. Stop this right now.
A laugh bubbled from his lips, almost fighting in his chest violently.
“You like nice things? That’s your excuse, that you’ve become too accustomed to a royal lifestyle?
Is that why you found yourself in the lowest slums of your kingdom more often than the throne room?
You can lie to yourself, but not to me.”
I jumped to a stand, knocking the goblet over in the process. “How dare you—”
But the sight of spilled wine stopped me dead in my tracks. Wine cascaded down the table’s edge, but not a deep maroon I'd seen a thousand times before. Bright red, like fresh blood—like life blood—spilling over the edge in an unyielding waterfall.
Just like it ran over the dais.
As the crimson liquid continuously dribbled, all I could see was how it ran down the stone, a bloody waterfall, with Deldren's head lying in the middle.
Drip, drip, drip.
And just like that, his head separated from his shoulders, rolling as his lifeblood spilled over the edge. So much blood I thought it would never stop.
Deldren’s glazed eyes were clear as day, as if I were in the square. The room disappeared, and all I saw was the screaming crowd and my dead brother.
Dead.
Blood.
Crimson.
My fault.
My fingers gripped the edge of the table until I thought the wood might splinter away. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop them. Just like I couldn’t stop them from killing him.
Deldren. My fault. It was all my fault.
I was too much of a coward to save him.
I didn’t realize I was screaming until Aelen gathered me in his arms. I tried to crash to my knees, but he wouldn’t let me, tightening his long limbs until it was all I knew. I found my way into his lap, and then my head onto his shoulder, where I bawled and gripped fistfuls of his leathers.
“Breathe,” he murmured into my ear. “What’s torn you to pieces?”
“My brother is dead. I killed him.” The words slipped from my tongue, rolling off like a thousand shards. Death by a thousand cuts—his death by a million faults.
My fault.
He stiffened beneath me, and his grip tightened. “I was there, and I saw. You didn’t kill him. Your father ordered it. It was brutal work, but not by your hand.”
“They offered me the throne. If I had taken it, if I had said yes, he’d be alive.”