Chapter 29 Neirin #2
Despite Evera’s warmth against me and the moment’s intimacy, a twinge of unease itched at my subconscious, a nagging reminder of how fleeting this all was.
With it came a tugging at my heart, a hope that the huntsman would return sooner than he’d anticipated so that I might return to the castle, assure my brother’s safety, and unravel the deceptions.
Yet, in the same breath, I longed for moments just as this one, as many as time may grant me.
Evera leaned her head back, and I brushed my cheek up the side of her face, letting it rest atop her brow.
Though this was all so new and held no logic, I could not deny I was falling hard for her—for her smile and the way it lit her eyes, for the depth of her caring when she let her guard down, for her fire, her cunning, and her sharp wit.
For the way she drew me from my burdens.
Waves crashed against the cliffs below, and ahead, light illuminated the windows of shops and homes as we drew nearer to town.
I nuzzled into Evera’s hair, breathing in her scent.
I’d said no more secrets, yet she still did not know the truth of who I was, who my brother was.
It wasn’t that I sought to keep the information from her.
It was more than the day had already carried such heaviness.
“Evera,” I started, my chest constricting as I settled on honesty, on having no more deceptions between us. “There’s something you must know.”
She tilted her head back, and I met her eyes. Even in the shadows of dusk, they sparkled with light. The image of her on the ground before the farmhouse ached at my gut.
“What is it?” she asked, tone languid, relaxed, as she melted against me.
I set my eyes on the horizon. Fear of her response quickened my heart. “My brother, he—”
“Evera!” A man’s call interrupted me, and I shifted my attention to find Aureus standing before the inn.
Evera tensed in my arms, and I brushed my lips against her temple.
“Are you safe with him?” I asked as we drew nearer. I knew very little about her brother, and the angry set of his brows concerned me. Or perhaps it was only as Calix had said, that I was being overprotective of my new mate.
Thoughts of the boy turned my lips down. Would he be at the inn? Why did his well-being concern me? Was it because I owed him for aiding me in protecting Evera?
“Of course,” Evera said. “He is my brother. Aureus is just—” She sighed. “He worries about me.”
I could empathize with his worrying, even if I did not approve of his use of sternness and reprimands.
Not when simply speaking to his sister would accomplish more.
Making a sound of acknowledgment, I steered Sorrel and stopped before the man.
I held Evera firmly against me, needing to judge the situation for myself before I released her to him.
For a moment, Aureus only held his beard, eyes flitting between the two of us. Finally, he addressed his sister, his tone low and flat. “I told you to return to the shop.”
I gave Evera a moment to respond for herself, but she only breathed deeply and placed one of her hands over mine.
“We went for a ride,” I replied.
Scoffing, Aureus clenched his fists at his side. “I’m sure that’s all it was.”
The derisive tone and the insinuation of his words heated my blood. Through the bond, I sensed Evera’s discomfort.
“Consider your words,” I snarled.
In the flicker of lanterns set atop the stone fence of the inn’s garden, I noted the flush to Aureus’s cheeks. Good. Be ashamed.
When I dismounted, Aureus flinched, and I narrowed my eyes at him. Not all men were fighters; I understood this. Still, weakness irritated me. Especially when it was the brother of my mate who showed it to me. It pained me to leave her with him.
“Show your sister more respect,” I warned, standing face-to-face with the apothecary.
Aureus set his jaw and, dismissing me, reached to draw the reins over Sorrel’s ears so he could lead Evera back to the stable. On the mare’s back, Evera sat with eyes cast down, the flame within her flickering.
No.
“Evera can steer her mare on her own,” I said, intercepting Aureus’s reach.
Looking up to her, I placed the reins in her hands and nodded, letting a smile of encouragement settle on my face.
There were words to be said, but they weren’t needed.
Not when the corner of her lips turned up and a sensation of weightlessness flitted through the bond.
Though the world held many dangers for her, and I only added to them, she was strong of mind and body and heart.
I could not let my need to protect her overshadow that.
“Can I come for you tomorrow?” I asked.
Evera nodded, and I brushed my thumb lightly over the bruising at her jawline. She held my hand in hers then lowered it, her smile soft and sad. Tomorrow I would bring her lightness, perhaps bake with her as I had so often as a boy with Nyana.
Aureus voiced Evera’s name, and she squeezed Sorrel’s sides, urging the mare on.
Pride filled me as I watched them set down the road, and when they turned right at the corner and left my sight, an emptiness came over me.
How I longed to keep her at my side, to carry her to bed with me, to lay her down.
Though I ached to be inside of her again, the desire to simply be in her presence was stronger.
To hold her in my arms, to watch her breath, heavy as she slept.
Skirting the fence with my hood concealing my hair, I made my way to the back door of the inn, my thoughts turning to the presence of castle soldiers and a guard.
Who, very likely, would be sleeping under the same roof as Calix and I on this night.
If, I reminded myself, Calix had returned.
But what else could he do? Without my blood, his control would not last, and if his magic killed—if he was caught for it—a swift execution would befall him.
The hens greeted me as I reached the garden, clucking and pecking at my boots.
The new rooster, a proud and aggressive creature, studied me and kicked at the earth.
I scoffed, nudging the hens aside as I walked.
Reaching the back door, I entered through a crack, careful not to let any of the daft creatures inside.
A pot of fresh soup bubbled over the fire, filling the room with the smell of onions and rosemary.
I drifted to it without thinking, giving the creamy broth a slow stir as my stomach rumbled in response.
On the table, a loaf of bakery bread sat on the table with a serrated knife beside it.
I carved a slice free– the crust crisp beneath the blade, the inside was soft and pillowy–and tore off a bite. Warm. Comforting. Delicious.
The split doors swung open, and Maerel’s eyes narrowed the instant they found me. With a sharp flick, she tossed a rag over her shoulder and strode to the table, snatching the bread from my hand as though it were contraband.
“Some help you are,” she scolded. “This place has been packed since sun fall. Remind me what you’re doing to earn that free room of yours.”
Rearranging barrels of beer, washing countless dishes, dispersing drunkards, cleaning their vomit when they drink too much …
“I’m sorry, Maerel.”
“Yes. Well, you’re here now.” She turned her back to me and drew plates and bowls from a shelf. Returning to the table, she placed them beside the bread. “Soup tonight. There’s a group of soldiers from the capital over by the hearth. Start by bringing them each a bowl.”
A tightness constrained my chest. “I cannot.”
Maerel slapped the rag from her shoulder onto the table and met me with a firm stare. “And why is that?”
Working my jaw, I sought the words. Then a deep laugh came from the bar, and the familiarity of it chilled my blood. I froze, listening. The quiet complaints of a young woman rose and were cut off.
Maerel hissed a breath. “That guard is a problem.”
“How so?” I asked. My tone was gravelly, and my hand itched to reach for my sword and uphold the threat I made back at the festival. Maerel gestured with her chin, and I went to the split doors and peered through a crack in the upper section.
Cyan leaned into the bar, propped up on one arm, boxing in a young woman.
Her hair fell in loose waves, and when he tucked the strands behind her ear, the softness of her face revealed her youth.
Barely more than a girl. Still, older than he usually went for.
Bitterness stung at the back of my throat.
He spoke boisterously over his shoulder, and the soldiers at the table exchanged uneasy glances.
The woman turned her head aside, and Cyan grabbed her roughly by the chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. I gritted my teeth. He reached down with his other hand as if he were working at her skirts with a cruel twisting grin, bunching them. The girl squinted.
“Go upstairs,” I instructed Maerel.
“Lark—”
“Now,” I commanded. The firmness in my tone gave no room for discussion, and this time her footsteps sounded her assent as she obeyed my order.
Hand at the hilt of my sword, I lowered my hood and shouldered the door, pushing it open just enough to draw Cyan’s attention.
His hand stilled beneath the woman’s skirts, and his eyes narrowed on me.
I raised my chin, knowing even as I did that it was a risk.
I could justify the need to separate Cyan and deal with him privately while the other soldiers were distracted.
Though they surely had my description, none of them had worked alongside me, so they would not so easily take note of me in a crowd if I did not stand out.
Eliminating Cyan greatly lowered the threat of my capture and bought me time to wait for the huntsman’s return.
Questioning him, too, could draw valuable insight.
But the fire in my blood, the clench of my fist, told me this would be an act of rawness too, not one my training would prepare me for.
In a primal sense, he was a threat to the fragile life I was forming here in Elrune and a threat to Evera, my mate.
That, along with the violence he was forcing on the woman he’d cornered, was enough to move me to action, even without thoughtful reasoning.
Withdrawing his hand, Cyan turned his eyes back to the girl and forced his fingers into her mouth.
She choked back her fear, and his grin of satisfaction deepened.
Though it took every ounce of restraint I had, I held back in the doorway.
I knew what he was doing, and I would not allow myself to be drawn out into the open where he could so easily attack me.
I retreated to the table in the kitchen and braced my hands on the wood.
Knuckles white, I snarled, waiting. I needed Cyan to come to me.
If he were wise, he would raise the attention of the soldiers so that they could detain me as a group.
But Cyan was greedy and believed too highly of himself.
It was a gamble to try to draw Cyan out alone, one born of recklessness.
My own frustration only further fueled my anger, further heated my blood.
When the split doors behind me creaked on their hinges, I turned to him.
“A duel,” I said, forcing my voice to stay firm.
“In the woods behind the inn.” Rash, thoughtless.
I drew a long breath, regaining myself. I needed to remain level-headed, to regain my composure, and to work with the situation I’d put myself in.
I could not let Cyan see how he riled me or how desperate I was for a fight.
Cyan sneered. “Fine, Bastard. A duel.”