Chapter Eleven
Rolan might as well have been walking on air as they made their way through the thick forest with its unknown dangers, looking for anything they could use for shelter.
Abauna was quieter than before, but the silence didn’t bother him. Not when his mind was still reeling from what she’d confessed.
She’d touched him. Of her own free will. Burrowed into him for warmth and comfort. And… he’d supplied it.
Snuggled meant to touch bodies, but not in a mating way. Like a hug, she’d said.
A hug.
That was a sign of affection, wasn’t it? He’d never been hugged. But even if she only did it to stay warm, he would enjoy it immensely.
He knew because… well…
He couldn’t ever tell her this, but when he awoke to feel her in his arms, he’d been momentarily stunned before believing it was a dream his mind had conjured. He’d drawn her closer, dropping his nose to her hair to breathe her in. As if… as if she was really his female to wake to. The bride he could behave freely with.
He’d forgotten about their incomplete wedding night, their banishment, their surroundings, and was nearly overcome with joy and gratitude.
Thank you, dear Ancients, he’d thought.
As he began to nuzzle her awake, she’d stiffened and that was when he knew their situation was no dream.
When he opened his eyes to the horror of their reality, realizing that he must’ve grabbed her in their sleep…
The dread that had filled him was enough to make him ill.
Wondering if she’d change her mind about their agreement, if she’d fear him again, if he’d lose her… it sent him spiraling into despair again as he waited for her to exit the cave.
But then, she yanked him back to sanity with her confession and a word he’d never heard before.
It is I who snuggled with you last night while we slept.
Snuggled. Like a hug.
Next time, he’d be awake to revel in it.
Peering up through the thick covering of the trees, he tried to determine the position of the sun. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, but he was certain it was past midday, and they’d seen nothing but thick foliage and random stacks of boulders here and there.
No water.
No shelter.
No animals to kill for food.
No food at all except the purple berries that seemed to grow abundant in the Barren. And he was certain they couldn’t survive on berries alone.
They’d stopped to drink water from the cache twice, but if they didn’t find a source soon, he was afraid they’d have to start rationing it. Which might prove difficult in the forest climate of the Barren.
For as cold as it got at night, it was verging on sweltering in the day. Even his bride’s skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.
Abauna yelped, jerking his attention from the sky just in time to notice she’d tripped over some stones in their path. His arm shot out to catch her around the waist and keep her from falling. But in his attempt to save her, he was too rough and her body slammed into his forcing an audible oof from her chest as they collided.
She gasped trying to drag air into her lungs, her eyes staring at him with obvious panic.
Damn it, he had to temper himself. Had to get used to handling her. But he just wasn’t used to touching others. Not unless it was to fight. He could gentle himself for her. He had already—at the altar, in the cave. But if he was acting on instinct, it was always going to be too hard. Too fast. Too much. Until he taught himself another way to be.
“Stay calm,” he murmured, righting her before stepping back to give her space. “Your breath will return, bride. Listen to me count, focus on that… one, two, three, four…”
By the time he reached five, she could draw in a breath, releasing it again in a huff before sucking in another. And another.
“There, it’s coming now.”
Nodding, she continued breathing until she was back to normal.
He let his eyes find the ground as the weight of his awkwardness settled heavy on him.
He’d only been wed for three days. He couldn’t expect to be a good groom yet. But he desperately wanted to be.
He was making a mental list: She must be fed often, she must be kept warm. She was far more delicate than him. Fragile, even. So she must be kept from things that might break her. Like the stones she tripped on. He would watch for things like that in the future. And when it became necessary for him to touch her, he must do so more carefully.
He was learning so much, but it seemed like there was a neverending need to learn more.
“Thank you, groom.” She cleared her throat as they continued walking. “I’d surely have fallen if not for you intervening.”
“You’d also not have had the breath knocked from you,” he muttered.
She was silent as they passed more berry bushes, and he looked ahead to be sure there were no large stones.
“Where did you learn that trick?”
He shook his head. “It isn’t a nice story, bride.”
“Well, I wish to hear it anyway.”
He glanced sideways to find her watching him expectantly.
“Why?” he asked.
It was several steps before she answered.
“Is it not normal for a wife to know things about her husband?”
He didn’t know the answer to that for sure, but he guessed it was. He wished to know all things about her.
“When I was much younger and smaller, one of the Empress’s favorite games was to watch me fight a member of her guard. She would pit me against one twice or even three times my heft, and there were many times…”
What Rolan wouldn’t give to be able to tell her a nice story of his past. One where he was a normal boy, loved by parents. Perhaps one who owned a pet instead of a boy who was one.
But he knew she had her own sad stories, and maybe if he told her his… she’d let him learn about her too. So, he continued.
“There were many times the breath was knocked from my chest and the panic would have me choking and spitting and clawing at my throat. I’d count in my head, thinking I’d be dead by the time I hit ten. But… well, I learned that my breath always returned by five.” He shrugged.
“How long have you been with her?” His bride’s voice was threadbare. Quiet enough that the wind could have carried it away.
Rolan grunted. He didn’t want to answer.
But shouldn’t she know?
“I was given to her as a gift by her father when I was five years of age. I have no memory of my years before that.”
“For what purpose?”
“To be her pet. Her plaything.” The words didn’t leave his throat on a snarl like they did other times he spoke of his time with the Empress. Perhaps because she seemed so far away now.
Physically maybe, his mind uttered. But she’d never be rooted from his soul, would she?
“But the games were only fun to her,” he continued. “When we were young, she liked to see me in pain. She would burn my fur to the skin or cut me to see if my blood was the same color as hers. If I touched her or retaliated in any way, punishment was… severe. But when I grew strong and oblivious of the pain, she liked to inflict other injuries. Ones that went beyond the skin.”
He’d taken three full steps before he realized Abauna was no longer beside him.
Turning, he found her standing stiff as a board, fists balled at her sides, a furious expression twisting her pretty face.
Oh, no. What did he say that would make her so angry at him?
“She is positively wretched,” she spat out, making him blink. “Such a miserable excuse of a female. Of… of a person. How could the Ancients allow her to be so utterly cruel when there was no cause for it?”
Her words left him breathless as he stared at her.
Was she… was his bride angry on his behalf? Was she red in the face and spitting her fury because someone had wronged him? Him? The savage beast no one in the world had ever defended.
He might’ve fallen in love with her that very moment.
“There is something flawed within her,” he murmured past his awe. “Something not right. Even from the days of childhood. Perhaps she doesn’t know—”
“Don’t you dare defend her—” Abauna marched forward, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Not after all she’s done to harm you. There is no excuse—” Another jab. “No defense bold enough to redeem her.” And another, every poke pushing him deeper into the trance she was responsible for.
It was as if he was caught in a spell of her making.
No one had ever spoken about the Empress’s treatment of him as… wrong. Though he knew it was. For all his years, he’d been alone in that conclusion. Even made to believe he’d deserved it.
But not now.
Now, his bride was spitting angry over what was done to him, and it was all he could do not to scoop her into his arms and put her right against his pounding heart so he could keep this feeling close.
Instead, he lifted his hand—slowly, so he didn’t alarm her—and wrapped it around that jabbing finger, pulling it down but not letting go. He stared at where he held it, his thumb tracing the lines of her knuckle when she didn’t pull away.
“I don’t defend her, sweet bride.” He swallowed the emotion in his throat. “I only meant to say that I can’t answer those questions. Perhaps the ones who are born to be cruel will always be, and the rest of us will never understand.”
“It… it isn’t fair.” The anger had bled from her voice, and he looked up to find her shoulders slumped. “While she lives to make people miserable, we are the ones tossed from our home and struggling in the wilderness. You should have been married to a proper bride and given a dwelling safe in the city.”
But he only wanted the bride he’d been given. The one who offered understanding instead of judgment. Who taught him about snuggling. Who became defensive on his behalf.
She was the only one who mattered now.
“I never considered that place home anyway,” he rasped.
Her eyes met his and one side of her mouth turned up as she pulled her finger away.
“Neither did I, beast. On that, we agree.”
She pushed past him, continuing through the woods, and he followed her.
“I could say the same about you,” he said quietly. “You should have been given to a proper groom.”
He felt her gaze turn to him, but he kept his eyes forward, scanning for any danger.
“Nah. A proper groom would’ve left me at the entrance to the Barren. Or worse…” She shivered. “Forced me to confirm on our wedding night. Or let the Empress examine me before the court. No, I think the groom I was given was just right.”
Just right.
Warmth like nothing he’d felt before filled his chest with those words.
Just right.
He knew from that moment on, he would try harder than ever to be just right for her.
She stopped walking, suddenly going still.
“Bride—”
“Shhh. Do you hear that?”
He stilled himself, listening. “It sounds like…”
Finding her wide-eyed gaze, he felt his go wide too.
“Water,” they both said at the same time.