CHAPTER 5 #3
Later, back in the room, the quiet is unsettling.
Not the uncomfortable silence I expected when Otto shoved us into a room together, but something more…
tense. Neither of us seems eager to start a conversation, but I feel the need to fill the silence.
I don’t like the idea of sitting with my thoughts for too long, which is a burden in and of itself.
I sit cross-legged on the bed, carving a wooden horse from a block of oak while Onyx settles into the chair near the hearth.
I picked up the hobby long ago, and muscle memory makes each careful stroke almost effortless.
The fire casts a warm amber glow across the room, softening the hard angles of Onyx's face as the faint scar along his jaw catches the light.
For a while, we simply listen to the crackle of the fire.
“I still don't understand you,” I admit eventually.
His eyes lift from the fire. “I know.”
Two words. That’s all he gives me. Irritation flares hot in my chest. Of course he knows. He’d sooner bleed than tell me what he’s thinking.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” I mutter.
“So now you want to know your alleged kidnapper?”
I roll my eyes. Gods, this man is impossible.
“I thought everyone on this continent feared the Shadow Guard.”
“They do, for the most part.”
“Not here, they don’t. Not the way they do back home. The Lycarians avoid speaking about the King, but they aren't deathly afraid of him the way they are in Elvora.”
Like my people.
A muscle shifts in his jaw. “Lycar knows us. They know they have nothing to fear.”
I frown. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means they know the difference between stories and people, and they understand history. They don’t make fear shape what they believe.”
The answer settles heavily between us, and I scowl. I don't like what he’s implying. Mostly because I don't know how to argue with it. He’s undoubtedly seen more of the continent than I ever will, and I can’t ignore the possibility that he’s right.
Outside, the village settles into the night. Laughter drifts through the streets, mingling with the quiet hum of ordinary life. The sort of sounds that don't belong in a kingdom ruled by a cursed king.
“Are you afraid of him?” I ask quietly.
Onyx considers my question as his gaze drifts toward the fire. “Who?”
I know he knows who I’m referring to. I have the distinct feeling he wants to hear me say it aloud. So I do.
“The Shadow King.”
For a moment, I think he won't answer at all. I wonder if he’ll just ignore me as he usually does when he doesn’t want to answer me. Then he exhales.
“I respect him. He is a good king who does what he must for his people.”
My face scrunches in distaste; that isn’t what I asked. I study him for a long moment. “You didn't say no.”
His silence lasts a heartbeat too long. “No,” he says at last. “I didn't.”
The answer sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the weather outside. Because if a man like Onyx respects the Shadow King but won't claim he isn't afraid of him, then what exactly awaits me at the end of this journey?
The question follows me as I crawl beneath the blankets, though my attention keeps drifting back toward him.
Firelight dances across the room, casting warm gold over his features and softening some of those sharp edges he wears like armor.
Gods, Onyx has never looked more—I stop that thought immediately.
As if sensing my stare, he reaches for the hem of his tunic and pulls it over his head. My breath catches. Not because I'm impressed—absolutely not because I'm impressed. I look away so quickly that my neck nearly protests.
“What’s wrong, Tarethyn?” His voice is thick with amusement. “Have you never seen a male undress before?”
Heat rushes straight to my face. “Do me a favor, Onyx?”
“Hm?”
“Shut up.”
His low chuckle follows me as I yank the blankets higher. And for his information, yes, I have seen a man undressed before. That isn't the problem. The problem is that my curiosity has apparently abandoned all common sense. Against my better judgment, I peek anyway. What a terrible mistake.
The sight of his broad shoulders and muscled chest sends an entirely unwelcome pulse through me, and I’m painfully aware of his presence.
Gods help me. The man looks as though the goddess herself sculpted him from stone and decided everyone else should suffer for it.
For reasons I don't care to examine too closely, I don't like the idea.
“You’re fine. Just stay on your side.” The words leave my mouth before I can reconsider them.
His dark brow lifts, and I clear my throat.
“Not because I care if you sleep on the ground or not. But…it would be a waste of a perfectly good bed.”
His mouth twitches. “Of course. Get some sleep, Lyra. We leave at first light.”
The smirk he gives me before disappearing into the bathing chamber is deeply irritating. Mostly because it tells me he doesn't believe a word of it.
When he returns some time later, our earlier conversation lingers between us, unspoken but impossible to ignore.
I watch him bank the fire while sleep slowly begins tugging at my thoughts.
For days, I thought the greatest danger in Solaris was the cursed continent itself. Now I am no longer certain.
The mattress shifts as he settles beside me, keeping a respectable distance between us. Warmth radiates from his body beneath the blankets, and I hate that I notice it immediately. I stare stubbornly at the ceiling.
Tomorrow we leave Lycar.
Tomorrow we continue toward the king.
And now… now I find myself wishing the journey with Onyx were longer.