Chapter 43
Emrys
With the sun hidden behind thick clouds, the camp was plunged into an early, gloomy night. The air grew colder still. The camp settled down as dying embers glowed faintly, while the sentries moved like wraiths in the darkness.
I watched the shadows drift like smoke across the walls of my tent, waiting. A knot of anticipation tightened in my chest as Isca stepped over the threshold without hesitation, never looking back. She was showing me more trust than I deserved, considering how I’d treated her in the past.
Now I’d rather suffer in silence than risk seeing fear in her eyes again. I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, or worse. Inside, I felt the curse’s tense energy, a perfect echo of my own tightly wound state. Her trust held a blade poised above my heart; breaking it meant certain death.
Her hair was unbound, falling over her shoulders in a cascade of spun gold.
She carried her bedroll under one arm and her pillow under the other.
That particular comfort was only afforded to her and Catrin, a fact she appeared to disapprove of from the pointed expression she wore while looking at the lack of comforts in my tent.
She was wearing that fur robe again. The one I’d imagined peeling off her too many times to count.
Control yourself, Emrys. She’s only here to prevent the general from being murdered, not for you to lose yourself in the warmth of her body.
But by the cursed gods, I still wanted to, even more than I wanted my next breath. There were so many ways I wanted to touch her. None of them were appropriate, and each was carved into my damned soul as if hunger itself had possessed me.
Isca laid her bedroll and extra blanket on the ground, moving like a woman used to hard work.
The dim magelight I cast illuminated the delicate curve of her throat and the elegant shape of her fingers as she worked to unroll it.
It was easy to forget that she was lowborn—though even thinking the phrase filled me with ire. She was anything but low.
Isca belonged in the place of honor in every hall, in every room, she ever entered. She belonged on a throne.
As she stood to grab her pillow, I reached out with a thread of invisible power and silently dragged her bedroll closer to mine. My willpower to resist every temptation was limited. I couldn’t deny myself this one indulgence.
She noticed. Her face showed no shock, only a question. Is this what you need, Emrys?
The answer my eyes gave as our gazes connected was Yes, but my heart added, but I would do anything for more.
My face betrayed me, and she likely read everything I’d tried to keep concealed behind mental walls.
But I was tired of fighting that struggle.
She’d already felt the physical evidence of how much I wanted her.
With her in such an intimate setting, I had become a man of instinct, driven by desire.
I needed her close enough to smell, to feel the heat radiating off her body.
With a little shake of her head and a faint smile, she took a step forward and removed the robe.
I forgot how to breathe.
She was fully covered, but her silk nightdress was thin, clinging to her, and through it, two soft pink peaks pressed like tiny declarations of war against my self-control.
I growled like a feral dog.
By all the magic, I needed to be thrown into the river for the places my mind kept wandering. I clamped my eyes shut and breathed out forcefully to regather my wits. “Sorry.”
Restraint, Emrys. To say that I was embarrassed by my behavior was an understatement.
When I opened them again, she was already snug in her sleeping roll, facing me, amusement dancing across her features. Her blond long hair spilled across her pillow in a fan, and the scent of lavender twisted through the air again.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice a gentle murmur.
My mental walls were reinforced with Avanfellian concrete, so I knew she couldn’t read me like she wanted to. She didn’t know that I wanted to brand her with my name, my scent, my sweat in every way a man could.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
“Just…concerned about getting closer to the border,” I lied. “To get my mind off it, will you tell me more of your life in Caervorn?”
The way her face lit up at the suggestion, I felt like a cad for having talked so little with her since she’d arrived in Tir Darreth.
I’d been running away from her for so long I’d never gotten the full story.
Hearing how hard it had been for her in the past few years made me want to pull her close and never let her go.
No one deserved to have life be that hard.
The bitter truth was that the Assembly—the very people who’d arranged for her to be with me now—bore the greatest responsibility for her suffering. Should I thank them or want to destroy them?
If pushed, I might do both.
Then we switched to talking about my life before the curse. Throughout our conversation, the monster dozed contentedly, only pulling at me occasionally when mention of something painful arose.
She giggled so hard her entire body shook with the effort of being quiet so those around us could sleep. “So, Nisien stole your father’s crown, and now you’re telling me it ended up on the dog? Whose fault was that?”
“Borrowed the crown!” I corrected, laughing myself, feeling freer than I had in forever. “I…had it in my mind that the dog should be king for a day. We even held a coronation.”
“A regal hound! I wish I could’ve seen it.”
My life probably would’ve been much brighter had I met her earlier. “Yes, well, he ran away with the crown still on his head. The guards chased him down eventually, but Father wasn’t amused.”
“Oh?” she asked, suddenly somber.
“Nisien and I were punished, of course. But I still say the dog ruled more wisely than half the council.”
“I’ve never had a pet.” She shrugged. “Maybe one day.”
The sparkle in her eyes made me want to open an entire zoo for her.
Our conversation dwindled to a few sleepy words, punctuated by the occasional sigh. She was growing tired, but I would’ve stayed up all night if it meant hearing her voice. It must’ve been the small hours of the morning by the time we stopped talking.
She finally yawned, a wide, slow stretch of her mouth, before whispering, “Goodnight, Emrys.”
The urge to kiss that mouth again, to savor the feeling of her fingers on my skin, was nearly overwhelming. Still, this had been more shared intimacy than I’d had in…ever. It had to be enough for me.
It took fewer than five heartbeats to realize I was lying to myself.
I waited until her breathing slowed to a steady, even pattern. Then, I reached out with my magic once again. Her bedroll slid the last few inches until she was beside me.
I don’t think she woke. I took a chance and curled an arm around her, drawing her close to hold her. The curse stirred inside me, eyes half-lidded, licking its claws in smug satisfaction.
I fell asleep holding onto the last bit of warmth in my world.