Chapter 25 #2
“Not much farther,” I promised and veered off the path. Sorrel pinned her ears as I coaxed her into the undergrowth, but she didn’t halt or spook, and when we were out of view of the road, I tied her to a tree. “Here.” I offered Evera my hand to help her down.
Studying me, she narrowed her eyes, drew her satchel over her head, and held it out.
“What’s in this?” I asked, taking it from her. It was bulky and weighed much more than I suspected it would.
Evera scoffed. Hiding my amusement, I complied with her stubbornness. She threw her leg over Sorrel’s back and slid off, her back to me; I was close enough that her backside brushed me. Whatever her intention, I doubted it had been to grind against me.
Feeling bold, I wrapped an arm at her waist and drew her to my chest. She squealed, and I nuzzled her ear, breathing on her neck. She melted into me, pressing her ass against me. Her body betrayed her, as did the warmth that coursed through the bond.
Remembering herself, Evera wiggled out of my grasp and turned back, shooting me a pointed glare. I laughed, and she huffed her frustration.
“You’re insufferable,” she said.
I shrugged. “Is this the place?” I asked, nodding to the backside of the abandoned home behind her.
Confusion pinched her brows, and when Evera looked back, she gasped. “Neirin, what are we doing here?”
I brushed past her, the overstuffed satchel a notable weight on my shoulder.
“Where is the window you used to climb through?” I asked, examining the building. It truly was in a state of disarray. “There isn’t broken glass, is there?”
Evera ran to catch up with me. “I’m not a child anymore, Neirin. I can’t just climb up walls and through windows of abandoned houses. I know better now.” She stopped at my side and looked toward the old manor with wistful longing. “It would not be respectable.”
“Then let us not get caught,” I said, ignoring her hapless attempts at talking me out of what may have been the only romantic idea I’d had in my entire life. I stepped up to a crumbled well, resting my hand on the cold stone surface. Like the manor, it was a faded earth tone.
“Why is this house abandoned?” I asked, raising my eyes to the ruins. Ivy grew up the bricks of the manor, beautiful but unkept. “Do you know?”
Evera frowned. “House Tellius owns it. Farren told me that at one time they had a use for it, but it’s been for sale for as long as I’ve lived here. The price is outrageous.”
I left the well with a faint, thoughtful noise and made my way toward a low window, its panes long gone.
Examining the opening for shards of glass, rusted nails, or anything else that may put Evera in harm’s way, I didn’t notice her standing beside me.
When she nudged me, I stepped back—I’d come to learn it seemed to displease her when I didn’t move out of her way when she pushed me.
With a grunt of determination, she braced her arms on the windowsill and heaved herself up, scraping and scrambling at the stone with her boots. I unabashedly watched her futile attempts.
“Have we moved past worrying over things that are respectable, then?” I asked, humor lacing my tone.
Her skirts bunched up to her knees as she dug the toe of her boot into a crack in the stone, but it slipped. With a defeated huff, Evera stopped her struggle and lay half in the building and half outside it.
“Are you stuck?” I bit back a laugh.
“This was easier when I was a child,” she retorted.
For a moment, my smile faltered. Harlan loved climbing up into the window of Nyana’s kitchen. Had the huntsman delivered my letter? How many more days would it be until I received his reply?
“Are you going to help me or just keep staring at my ass?”
Unable to resist, I laughed, and the responding sound that came from her was the essence of annoyance.
I placed my hands at her waist and lifted her weight, helping her the rest of the way into the building.
As she cleared the ledge, she kicked at my shoulder with her boot, rather pointedly, I suspected.
My cloak caught when I braced my hands to pull myself up. I pulled it off, and when Evera’s head came to peer through the window, I tossed her the satchel first, and then the cloak, handing over the wine more carefully.
Evera bundled the cloak in her arms and sucked in her bottom lip, her gaze pointedly on my biceps. Desire seeped through the bond again, and I ran a hand through my hair, looking up at her. Gods, I want to kiss you. But I wouldn’t, not yet.
I made an extra effort to show off a bit, flexing my arms as I easily lifted myself. Face-to-face with her, I balanced on my boots in the windowsill and held her eyes. Evera exhaled roughly, and I grinned.
Scrunching up her face with the cutest damned look of determination, she shoved the satchel back to me, nearly pushing me backward.
I braced myself with an arm on the right side of the window frame, catching the bag with the other. “Do you want me dead?” I asked, doing my best to feign injury to my pride.
“No,” she mumbled, and the lack of a quip surprised me.
I studied her, and when she looked up at me through her lashes, my heart stilled.
“Am I permitted to eat now?” she demanded.
The return of her sarcastic wit curled my lips into a smile. “Not quite yet.” I dropped down from the windowsill and into what appeared to be a large entry room.
Evera glowered.
“Show me your home.”
“Neirin—”
“Show me what you pretended when you were a child. Amuse me with this, and I’ll reward you”—I leaned down to her flushing cheeks—“with a tart.” Heat trickled through the bond, and with a grin, I turned from her to take in the expansive room.
The walls were high—two stories with a railed balcony along the upper level, broken in sections.
Beneath my feet, the wood flooring creaked, old but sturdy.
It was clear that in its time, the manor was built without concern for cost. I rested my hand on an intricately carved support column, pondering the structural stability of the home I’d brought my mate into.
“Are you coming?” Evera called from the base of a staircase.
Worry for her well-being clenched my chest. “Let me go first.”
She scoffed and ran up the stairs with hapless abandon.
I followed her, gritting my teeth when I took in the state of the upper-level flooring. “This place isn’t safe.”
“You worry too much.”
Only over you. The realization was sobering. For I did worry over her, desperately so. My very existence seemed inextricably linked to hers; her safety was imperative. Equal it seemed, though in a different sense, to the protectiveness I felt over Harlan.
Evera continued, a lightness to her step and a glint of childish wonder in her eyes when she looked back at me.
Sighing, I allowed myself a soft smile. To see her spirit lightened, her walls down … This was a good idea. Unless she steps on a rotten board and falls through. The corners of my lips turned down.
“There are three rooms up here; our home only has one room we all share,” Evera rambled as she led me down a hall. “What could anyone possibly need so many rooms for?”
I shrugged, considering the countless rooms in the castle. Though admittedly, most of them wouldn’t be needed for a single family.
“A study,” I offered, peering into one of them. A large window at its back let in ample light. “The castle has a separate nursery for the children.”
Scrunching up her face, Evera shook her head. “I would want my children in my bed. At least until they’re older.”
“That sounds horrible,” I retorted, my thoughts going to Calix. As I followed Evera into the largest of the rooms, I envisioned rolling over in the morning to meet the wide, honed eyes of the messenger boy and shuddered.
“Why’s that?” She looked up at me.
I raised my brows and leaned into a lighter response. “In your imaginary world, you can sleep with your children. In mine, I’m using the bed for other activities.” I nodded to the side of the room. “And that wall.”
Evera flushed. “I thought you didn’t want children.”
A somber weight fell over us, and her smile faltered.
“No,” I said. I’d only been teasing her, but now an air of discomfort disconnected us. I would never have children, not even for her. “What’s downstairs?”
Evera nodded, eyes cast aside, and brushed past me, leaving me alone in the room. I sighed. She was just starting to open up, to relax, to be comfortable in my presence.
Double windows let sidelong light into the room. And though there was no furniture, I could envision a canopy bed between them. The view looked out to the broken well and what could be restored to a quaint garden. There truly was such potential here.
Leaving the room, I determined to lighten the mood, and I found Evera at the bottom of the steps. As she showed me the lower rooms of the manor and spoke of her childhood imaginings, her energy began to return. By the end of her tour, the lightness of her smile had come back to her.
Sitting before an empty hearth, I pulled the cork from the wine bottle and tested the drink. It was a red, which was not my preference, but the faint smoky flavor to its undertones was a nice surprise.
Evera stifled a giggle, and I handed it over with a challenge in my eyes.
She took the bottle and turned it up, mimicking me. It was a sweet drink, low in spirits, but if she thought herself impressive for drinking it with vigor, I would not be the one to contend her beliefs.
Drawing breath dramatically, Evera set the wine on the wood floor, pride dancing in her eyes. Gods, she is incredible.
“Have I earned a tart?” she asked, sarcasm lacing her words.
Acquiescing, I opened the satchel in search of the two tarts, but my attention caught on the thick-bound book shoved in with the deliveries.
“You brought the book of lore,” I observed.
Evera sobered. “I thought you might want to learn more about yourself. You can borrow it if you would like.”
The caring gesture tugged at my heart.