Chapter 39 #2
Even with the worries swirling around in my head, my skin still carried the memory of Emrys’s kiss. I felt the echo of him where his fingers had traced the line of my jaw, where his lips had unleashed something aching within me.
He’d wanted me all the way down to his bones.
And yet he’d still turned away.
Emrys had vanished into the curse as he’d destroyed the rubble overhead just to escape our intimacy.
He’d offered a fleeting, tantalizing peek into his world then quickly shut the door, leaving me outside in the cold, wanting desperately back in.
And now I knew it was because he was trying to protect me from him.
The Assembly’s will wasn’t the only force keeping me bound to Emrys. It was time that I accepted that I wanted to be near him, to understand him. I was meek and soft, but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted a man forged of fire and sorrow.
Flinging the blankets off, I sat up, my magic still humming. It also wanted to reach out to him, to be near him. But he was running away again. This time to war.
And yet…
Exhaling a troubled breath, I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
The cold of the stone floor seeped into my stocking feet the moment they hit the floorboards.
I worked silently by the light of two small candles.
I opened the carved chest at the foot of my bed and pulled free the practical woolen gowns—the ones made for movement, not court.
My fingers hesitated on the crimson riding gown the Assembly had given me.
I didn’t want to wear their clothing but it was intended for what I had in mind.
I unfolded it gently and laid it across the back of the chair near the hearth, where the embers still glowed.
The rest I folded and piled on top of another wooden chest. To the stack, I added the red and gold dress I’d been too afraid to wear when I first arrived.
It would serve as a promise, a decision made in fabric.
Work complete, I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. Far too soon, a quiet knock startled me from my troubled slumber. The soft whisper of dawn crept through the curtains as the door creaked open, and Catrin stepped inside, balancing a tray.
Her gaze fell on the riding gown, and she stopped short.
“You’re not… Isca!” Her voice, tight with disbelief, issued a sharp warning. “No, no, no. What is this?”
I dragged myself out of bed, fatigued from the prior day’s excitement and restless sleep, and poured myself a glass from the pitcher of water she’d set down on the table. “I’m going with them.”
Catrin’s fists balled. She rested them on her hips, looking every bit the displeased mother even though she was three years younger than me. “You’re what?”
“I’m riding out with the contingent of soldiers they’re sending to the border.”
“Why should you go, my lady?”
“Because Emrys is my primary job,” I said quietly. “I need to be where he is.”
She stared for a long moment, lips parted. Then her chin lifted in that stubborn way that never boded well. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“Catrin—”
“Bollocks,” she said fiercely, jabbing a finger at me. “I’m ready for a bit of adventure. And it would keep me out of the bloody laundry.”
I blinked. Then I laughed. Of course she would make it about avoiding work.
“If you’re sure… Wait, this is about your beau!” In truth, having her want to go with me was the best outcome I could’ve hoped for.
“I’m sure,” she said, already moving toward my trunk, sleeves rolled up. “And, yes, maybe a little about him,” she admitted with a cheeky grin.
I started working on taming my unruly mane and dressing with as much haste as my fingers would allow.
Midway through packing, Catrin ran out into the hall, not saying a word to me about what she was doing.
Moments later, she strolled back in, commanding two bleary-eyed guards to carry my belongings down to the courtyard.
The sun hadn’t even cleared the hills yet, and the keep was already buzzing with preparations. Outside, soldiers tightened saddle straps and checked weapons. Armor clanked and voices barked orders. The entire courtyard smelled of masculine sweat, horseflesh, and leather.
I stood beside a wagon being loaded with arms and armor. I didn’t need to do any talking because Catrin did it all for me. She instructed the guards on the best placement of the chest and walked away to secure other provisions for us.
As always, I felt him before I saw him. Emrys stalked across the courtyard like a beast on the hunt, sword unsheathed in his hand. His knuckles were white on its ruby-tipped pommel, probably pouring his temper into it instead of exploding at me from a distance like he so clearly wanted to.
“What are you doing, Lady Isca?” His voice was a blade barely sheathed in civility. He didn’t stop walking until he was too close—close enough that I could see the tension running like a taut thread beneath his skin.
I offered him my most innocent smile. “I’m coming with you. Catrin is too.”
He walked—deliberately—in a tight circle, just far enough away that I couldn’t see his face. The snarl that escaped him was meant for the wind. I didn’t flinch; I grinned.
“You would be a liability,” he argued. His grip flexed around the hilt of his sword, the same one he’d worn in Caervorn when we were both still pretending we didn’t want to fall apart in each other’s arms.
“Or an asset,” I replied, refusing to back down. “I can change the mood of an entire crowd of men—you’ve seen it. And I’ve already proven that I can endure your curse’s pressure, Your Highness.” Then lower. “I can help soothe the curse and ensure the success of any peace treaty you hope to broker.”
His head snapped toward me from where he’d been watching the men’s preparations, eyes blazing. I watched him fight for control. This time the growl escaped unchecked, low and animalistic, trembling with restraint. He forced himself to pace again, a tight circuit carved by fury, or perhaps fear.
He turned sharply, used his sword to gesture as he barked toward one of his captains, “Get them both horses!” Then to me, “You. You will ride next to me. We must shore up your mental defenses before we get you anywhere near a battlefield that might have mages on it.”
I carefully controlled my features. He couldn’t know how shocked I was. How had I won so quickly, so easily?
A pause. Then his eyes narrowed. “Does Nisien know about this?”
A voice answered behind us before I could speak. “I do now.”
Nisien descended the castle steps, hands clasped behind his back. He carried a cloud of cloying jealousy and pressing sadness with him—he’d wanted to be the one to go. His smile was faint, clearly a show. “She is fiery,” he said, nodding to me. “I wish I could come to see her shine.”
I met his gaze, and he winked. Nisien was a great man—a steady one—but not the firestorm my soul kept turning toward.
Emrys sheathed his sword with a loud snap. It carried more finality than anything either of them could have said after that.