Chapter 20 #2
Look away.
She moves well. Very well, I’m forced to admit, better than several of the other men I’ve seen on the fields. She needs a bit more training to get her where she needs to be to hold a real blade but there is a certain grace to her movements.
Not to mention the hardened gleam of her eyes.
There is no hesitation when she strikes against her invisible enemies, only a fiery will. If she were up against a real opponent then she might be overpowered soon enough. She leaves herself open on too many fronts. Not to mention any soldier she faces will employ underhanded tactics.
No one will hesitate to strike her across her tendons and sever them so she’s unable to get up again.
My mouth goes dry, a knot forming in my stomach. A trail of warmth shoots with precision down to my core.
Fascinated, I stare, my fingers frozen on the door.
I hardly feel the cold night deepening the chill inside the castle walls. All her rage, walled up inside of her without an outlet—
Her movements echo the battle cry inside of me.
Tears fall from her eyes and she lets them, moving like she’ll knock the stars loose from the sky.
It tears something inside of me.
The way her anger powers her movement is raw, untapped. Does Morgan put that same power into everything she does? Would she kiss with the same hunger, like she might consume her partner entirely? Would her fingers clench against skin and leave bruises behind, a mark of her passion and claiming?
I slide my tongue across my lips. What does she taste like when she’s fighting?
Will her taste change if she chooses to yield?
Would she buck and claw and fight if I press my body to hers or would she be soft and open? There isn’t a single bone in her body willing to give me anything, I’m sure of it.
I reel myself back in. The intensity and desire won’t change anything. The woman is a force to be reckoned with and I have no business watching her.
I shift my gaze to the racks of weights and other exercise tools.
How many of them has she used?
Her presence makes the room overwarm but the harsh cold line of her lips remains. Everything is silent.
A sharp exhale pushes past my lips. Whenever I’m around Morgan, my focus shatters, honing in on her instead.
She stops and leans heavily on the staff, her eyelids fluttering shut. When she opens her eyes again, the tears are subdued.
The sight of her threatens to break my heart.
I say nothing, a vein ticking on the side of my neck and my nostrils flaring.
It’s a stolen moment, one she’d hate to have anyone witness.
My heart thrashes in my chest before it stills.
She looks like she’s close to breaking and the rest of the world goes blurry except for her.
Breath tickles the back of my neck, and then a disembodied voice asks, “Wow, you are a lech, aren’t you? Such a creep.”
Astrid’s voice comes out hard, and I freeze at her silent arrival.
If she’d brought a weapon, I’d be dead before I realized my mistake. Drawing back, I slowly turn to face her, Astrid watching my face for changes.
The urge to excuse myself is so oppressive I have to clench my jaw to keep the churning words inside of me.
Astrid looks beyond me. Morgan has resumed her exercising. Neither one of us says a word. Astrid shifts for a better angle, tracing hard eyes over the girl inside the room, her body rigid.
Then her shoulders lift in a small shrug, and she brushes her fingers across my elbow. She’s seen enough.
“Come along, lovesick fool.”
I draw away from the door, leaving Morgan inside to work out her rage. We’re halfway down the hall before Astrid sniffs.
“Did she see you?”
Blast, I hope not. I’d be neck-deep in dragon dung if she did.
“Neither seen nor heard,” I answer in an undertone.
“Do you know what she’d do to you if she knew she was being watched? Especially by you?” Astrid continues conversationally. Her hands slide into her pockets. “Better yet. How will your fiancée feel about you stalking a maid?”
“Pardon?” I grit out.
“I saw the expression on your face, Kieran. Control yourself. Otherwise you are going to be no good for anyone. Least of all poor neglected Evie.”
A stone drops in my gut.
Is that why Astrid came to collect me? Had Evie somehow managed to corner my second in command?
I stare straight ahead and the afterimages of Morgan’s sweaty form linger in my head. “I’m not engaged. And I’m not stalking.”
This late at night, the hallway outside my gym is empty of everyone but us. We are the only people insane enough to be awake this time of night.
Now there’s Morgan.
Astrid and I round the corner to the short stairwell taking us down to the outside pavilion. The edges of my vision go blurry. For a blissful second, it had only been me and Morgan, and a consideration for the future that hadn’t been possible before.
Now I’m caught and considering everything.
“I came to get you because you were supposed to meet me ten minutes ago.” Astrid gives a stiff nod. “You were late, and I worried.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. We have more important things to discuss. I’ve heard reports from the palace.”
I startle and she notes the movement. “Your spies hear everything.”
“That’s why they’re spies. The reports state that your father has been there more and more,” she whispers.
At the palace?
“Speaking to the king?” I ask out loud.
Astrid shrugs a muscled shoulder high and stomps ahead of me toward the glass doors leading outside.
The handle gives a squeal of protest when she pulls it.
“No one has really spoken to the king. If your father did so, it was managed in secret. All reports claim the king is isolated in his chambers. No one goes in or out.”
The heat from before dissipates into a wave of sickly queasiness. The night air gusts against my overheated skin and I push the sensation away, planting myself against the wall for a moment. This deep in the shadows, we’ll hopefully be unnoticed until the others join us.
Whatever my father is doing there, I guarantee it’s nothing good. Just as I guarantee the king is not as isolated as the stories claim.
“We’ll have to keep our ears open and see if anything changes,” I say in a sharp undertone.
“Clearly.” Astrid rolls up her sleeves. “I’m already taking care of it.”
Her attention latches on something over my shoulder. Out of the shadows ringing the edge of the pavilion come two students, first years. Their outlines sharpen the closer they get.
Astrid’s potential resistance fighters.
It’s smarter to meet with them here rather than going into the tunnels. If they know about the caverns, before we’ve judged their trustworthiness, we’ll never get off the ground.
But my father and the King…
I’ve known the two of them are working together for some time, but the extent of their relationship has never been particularly plain. How much of my father’s movements has the king sanctioned? How many of them are done right under the monarch’s nose?
Roman Ryson has plans for King Lochlain, I guarantee it, to use the child monarch to catapult his own rise to power.
The king may not remain in his position for long. The sooner we all brace for change and impact, the more likely we’ll be to survive the transition without too many scars.