Chapter 24
Islowly peel my lead-filled eyelids back.
I know I was dreaming, but it slips away too fast for me to catch it.
I groan and roll over on my back, stretching my sore muscles.
I just want to lay in bed and sleep the day away to help my body heal, but that isn’t an option.
We have to keep pushing forward. The Montbeths are coming for me and it’s about damn time I find out why.
I roll my head, ready for an argument, but Caene isn’t there.
I’m not surprised that he’s gone, but the disappointment I feel is unsettling.
I shake my head to clear it but immediately stop.
My head is splitting. Too many emotions, not enough food and water, and zero coffee.
Gods and goddesses, I’d kill for some coffee.
I sit up and let the moth-eaten quilt pool around my waist. The chilly air caresses my nipples.
I look down and realize I’m completely naked.
The towel I had wrapped around me is lying underneath me on the bed.
Memories that, up to now, had been fuzzy come flooding in, and I can’t help the embarrassed blush that heats my cheeks.
Nor can I help but be a little angry with myself.
I let him comfort me. He held me as I cried; he saw me naked.
I let myself be vulnerable with a man I know I cannot trust. Again.
For Death’s sake, you really are a fool Vay.
I put my head in my hands just as the door to the room swings open.
A strange squeak escapes my lips and I scramble for the quilt to cover myself.
Caene shuffles in, filling the room with the scent of rosemary soap with his personal woody scent curling underneath.
The combination is not unpleasant. Every time I’m not directly beside him, I forget how utterly devastating he is.
No one should be so handsome. My blood runs hot, my cheeks warm, and I find myself unable—or unwilling—to look away.
He looks down at the quilt I have pressed tightly around my chest and gives me one of his irritating half-grins, raising an eyebrow. I roll my eyes.
“Where have you been?” I ask, trying to keep the relief out of my voice and deflect his evaluating stare.
“Why? You worried about me, Aelavi?” his smile grows. I scoff.
“Your ego barely fits in this room, Big Man,” I taunt.
He laughs. The sound makes me shiver. I want more of it.
He stands at the side of the bed, leaving the door wide open as he stares down at me, his eyes soft.
I watch as he opens his mouth, then closes it again, shaking his head, clearly deciding against whatever it was he was going to say.
He turns, disappearing back into the hall in two steps.
My brows come together in confusion for a moment before he returns with a tray stacked with food.
I smell fresh bread and eggs, and there’s fruit and vegetables piled precariously high.
I’m fairly certain I’m drooling into my lap and I honestly couldn’t care less.
He places the tray on the bed by my crossed legs before vanishing into the hall again and coming back with two large mugs.
The smell of coffee nearly makes me orgasm on the spot.
I snatch a mug from him and take a huge swallow, not caring that it burns my tongue and my entire esophagus.
I just need it in my system. I don’t bother to fight back the moan.
By all rights, it’s terrible coffee, certainly burned, but gods it’s exactly what I needed.
Caene chuckles and sits down on the bed on the other side of the tray, lifting his long legs to finally shut the door.
“Dig in,” he says. I wasn’t waiting for his permission but now that I have it I start shoveling food into my gob as fast as I can while still keeping the quilt tucked around my chest.
“Hey, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.” I barely register his warning. I don’t care. This is the best meal I’ve ever tasted and I’ll gladly suffer the consequences of getting as much of it as possible down my throat.
Once my stomach is full and the tray practically licked clean, I lean back against the pillow and wrap the blanket tighter around my naked body, a content smile ghosting on my lips, my lids growing heavy once again.
Caene opens the door while still sitting on the bed, lifts the tray, and carries it back into the hallway. He brings back a brown sack.
I raise an eyebrow. “What is that, a magic hallway? Where do you keep pulling this stuff from?”
His only response is another half-grin. I’ll never admit it out loud but I really like those little smirks.
It’s like there’s a secret that only he and I know.
They feel special, only for me. He tosses me the sack.
I open it and pull out the contents. It’s clothing.
Everything I’ll need right down to underclothes.
I stifle a giggle at the thought of this burly, bearded man shopping for women’s underwear.
I look at his clothes for the first time today and notice he is also wearing a fresh black tunic and clean black trousers.
His boots are still soiled with mud and blood though.
I meet his eyes again. He reaches up and rubs the nape of his neck. “They might not fit well but they’re clean. I had to buy them off a woman traveling with her husband. They belonged to her son.” He chuckles. “I think she thought I was propositioning her, and she didn’t seem to hate the idea.”
I ignore the stab of irrational jealousy.
“Thank you,” I croak, emotion clogging my throat. The thought that I won’t have to put on the clothes I’ve been wearing for weeks has tears burning behind my eyes. Even if they were cleaned, they’d still reek of memories.
I wrap the coarse quilt tighter around my body, ignoring the chafing of my nipples, and drag it with me as I scurry into the bathroom. Caene’s chuckle follows me.
I take care of my business in the “necessarium.” I’ve decided I’m going to call a toilet that from here on out.
I dress in the clothes Caene brought me.
A green tunic and black trousers. I’m surprised that he didn’t bring me a dress.
The clothing drowns me but I couldn’t care less.
I’m going to burn the old ones. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to get the tangles out.
It’s futile, so I tear a small strip of cloth from a relatively clean spot on my old trousers still lying on the floor where I discarded them last night and tie it back.
I open the door to see Caene sprawled out on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed.
It’s a strangely sexy pose, his colossal biceps bulging from under his rolled-up sleeves.
As I stare at him, he cracks one eye open.
I startle at being caught openly gawking and try to ignore the blush I can feel from my chest to my scalp as I round the bed to sit beside his hip. He silently watches my every move.
I don’t bother to pussyfoot. “Why are you helping me?”
He sighs and sits up, propping himself up against the wall.
He rubs his eyes and I notice the dark bags under them.
He may be indestructible, but he clearly still needs sleep.
I briefly wonder if he slept at all, and if so, where?
I remember him getting up and going to the bathroom but did he come back to bed afterward?
“I think we need more coffee,” he says instead of answering my question.
He reaches around me to open the door, momentarily trapping me behind it, and shimmies out into the hall.
Anger and frustration rise like fire in my belly.
I follow him out the door, slamming it behind me.
He’s already at the end of the hall going down the stairs.
“Caene!” I run after him. I catch him at the bottom of the stairs, grip his shoulder, and pull.
I know he could easily resist and keep walking but he swings around.
“Answer me, godsdamnit! I think I deserve that much! Why are you helping me? You’re a Montbeth.
You should be dragging me back to that cell, yet here we are.
Why? Why does your family even want me? What do they want from me? Who do you think I am? Or better yet—”
“Slow down,” he growls, “and keep your voice down.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “If you wanted a private conversation you shouldn’t have walked out of the room. Tell me the truth!”
“I will!” I startle a little at his bark but I won’t back down.
I refuse to let him intimidate me. He runs his hand down his face.
“Fuck . . . I will, alright? I just . . . gods I need a drink. Go find a quiet table. I’ll get drinks.
” It’s still early, far too early for me to drink, but something tells me I’m going to need to take the edge off.
This isn’t going to be a comfortable conversation.
I nod and stalk off into the nearly empty tavern.
I find an empty table in the back corner, almost hidden beneath the stairs.
I sit down and Caene soon joins me, placing a glass of brown liquor in front of me.
I take a tentative sip, trying not to make a face.
I really should have reminded him I hate whiskey.
The alcohol mixing with my too-full belly has me suppressing a gag.
I set it down and glare at Caene. “Talk.”
He sighs and downs his whiskey in one gulp, not reacting to the burn. “What do you know about your father?”
“My father?” My eyebrows pull together. “What does this have to do with him?”
“We’ll get to that. What do you know about him?”
I quickly sift through my memory to find what my mother told me about him. “My mother didn’t talk about him much. He was a wealthy fisherman. He lived and worked in Kuarmac. He was wealthy enough to take care of us. And he was handsome, with red hair like mine. He died when I was fourteen.”
“The only truth in that is your father had red hair. And that he’s dead.” Caene’s eyes bore into mine.