Chapter 22 #2
I studied him. After spending four days together in the wastes, I hadn’t expected S?ren to seek me out. Especially when I’d made it clear I had no interest in forgiving him. “You wanted to see me.”
“Is that such a crime?” The wry note in his voice fell flat. When I didn’t answer immediately, he turned pleading eyes to me. “Only for a few minutes. Just to talk—I promise.”
I hadn’t doubted him at any point, but the show of such desperation startled me. “All right.”
S?ren settled in the armchair. I pushed away the memory of him sitting there in full Hellbringer gear, waiting for me to awaken after the Trials. My scars itched. “What’s on your mind?” I asked, stepping into the bathing room attached to my chambers and pulling the privacy screen closed over it.
I eyed the bathtub with longing, but…now certainly wasn’t the time. My treacherous mind thought differently, and for a moment I pictured S?ren pushing back the flimsy screen and pressing me up against the wall, rucking my shirt up over my breasts and—
“The queen is restless.”
His voice pulled me from my lusting thoughts, and I inhaled sharply. What in the world was I thinking? This man was responsible for the death of my brother.
But you would have done the same thing. My thoughts snuck in, but I didn’t try to push them away. Whether it was my Lurae or myself thinking it, I found myself listening instead. If Frode’s life had been on the line, and S?ren’s too…you would have killed Sonja to try to save them both.
The realization settled in my stomach like a weight. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Regardless, it wasn’t a good idea to fall back into S?ren’s arms. We’d grown too far apart and had missed our chance to make things work between us.
“What do you mean?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the breathy note in my voice. I stripped off my tunic and pants, still filthy from the days of travel. I hadn’t even had the chance to change clothes before Freja and Volkan pulled me back into politics again.
“She’s insistent that you be a master of your Lurae by the time she arrives next week,” he replied.
This time, his voice was closer. Almost like he stood directly on the other side of the thin privacy screen.
I finished unwinding my breastband, fully aware of the goose bumps traveling along the length of my arms. Gods, even his voice made me want.
“She doesn’t care about civil unrest in Bhorglid.
A few unhappy Lurae don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
There must be another reason why she wants you so powerful. Maybe your Lurae is what she’s after.”
I was exhausted. It was the only explanation for the way my body was reacting—nipples peaking at the thought of S?ren’s hands.
Hurriedly, I grabbed a clean breastband off my shelf and busied myself putting it on.
“I shared the prophecy with Volkan and Freja earlier. They think the ‘guardian divided’ means that you and I are now the ones with Aloisa’s…
power? Responsibilities? I’m not entirely sure. ”
Footsteps sounded. He paced back and forth, no more than a few feet from me. “That would make sense to me, I suppose. We both see threads, and you mentioned that Aloisa saw them, too. Do you know what she was guarding?”
“No. I’m wondering if I might have another dream tonight. I can’t control them at all, but it might help me understand.”
“We also need to work on using our Lurae together to summon the Tapestry.” For a moment, there was silence. “I want to know why the queen killed Aloisa, too. And why is she so possessive of Aloisa’s sword?”
I had no idea what the queen would want with a sword, so I focused on the first of his questions. “You think the dream you had was a memory, then? Sent by the Tapestry?”
“Yes.” He sounded certain, and it was easy to picture his facial expression—the determined set of his jaw more familiar than it had any right to be. “I rarely sleep. When I do dream, it’s never so vivid. And it sounds very similar to the dreams you’ve been having. It must have been the Tapestry.”
“The wandering woman who saved you all those years ago was Aloisa.” We’d discussed this on the ride home, but only now, when we’d had a moment to truly process it all, did it feel real. “Was Aloisa truly a goddess, then? Or just a woman?”
“Well, if she’s lived for nearly four hundred years, she certainly isn’t human.”
Tucking in the end of my breastband, I opened my mouth to reply as I reached for a clean shirt. Only to realize…“Shit.”
“What?”
I sighed. “The laundry maid put my clean shirts in the wrong place, I think. Could you grab one for me? They’ll be in the chest near the bed.”
“Shouldn’t they know where your things go?” His voice, which held only genuine curiosity, moved away. I heard the click of the chest’s latch, and he began rummaging.
“I organize my room differently than the rest of the castle’s occupants.
Typically the chests are used for clothing and there are no shelves in the bathing room.
” I leaned against the wall and eyed the shelves I’d hung haphazardly in the days following my coronation.
I’d taken them from the weapons room in the cellar of the Sharpened Axe—a forceful reminder to myself of what I’d done to the man who practically raised me.
The chest thunked closed. “I grabbed the first shirt I found. Hope it works.”
I reached up over the screen and he handed it to me, our fingers brushing in the exchange.
For a moment, we both paused. The world was still on its axis, and I knew with my next breath it would all shatter like glass.
But the warmth of his hand and the thought of us facing each other while I was undressed and he was vulnerable made me shiver.
S?ren drew his hand back, and I wondered whether I was the only one of us who was disappointed.
I finished changing and stepped back out into the bedroom, undoing my braid as I walked. “So the queen killed Aloisa and took her sword. That means the blade is important, but what is it used for? Was Aloisa doing anything in particular with it?”
He was sitting in the armchair again, elbows on his knees, foot tapping away. “She didn’t even use it when I met her in person. But I do remember her having it.”
“Do you think the sword is…” I hesitated, almost afraid to ask the question.
“Special? Magical in some way? I genuinely have no…”
I glanced up, combing my fingers through the hair on my scalp to undo the last of the braid. “No what?”
S?ren stared at me with the strangest expression on his face. Like he’d seen something he desperately wanted just out of reach. Longing. He shook his head. “You’re beautiful.”
I froze.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make this into anything it isn’t, I swear to you.
It’s just that I’ve been thinking of you all day and missing everything about you for…
weeks, really. And I wanted to be able to say it to you, even if it’s for the last time.
” His throat bobbed. “Because I still care for you, Revna. If you don’t want me to, then I’ll never speak of it again. But I needed to let you know.”
“S?ren…”
“I also owe you an apology.” His gray eyes were so earnest, and I didn’t know what to do. “I told you the truth of what happened that day, but I never apologized. And I hope you know how sorry I am. I’ve spent my entire life ruining everything I touch, but I want to be better now. For you.”
“I don’t know that I can forgive you,” I said softly. “Not when Frode is gone.”
“I know.”
Was it terrible to wish I could give him more? To search for a scrap to toss him, so he wouldn’t look so sad? “Thank you, though. For telling me the truth.”
The words were honest. Letting Frode’s death go…a nearly impossible task. One I didn’t trust myself to try pursuing. But learning of S?ren’s motivations for his actions, understanding the desperation of trying to keep one’s sibling safe at least soothed the storm building within me.
The real enemy was the queen.
“Don’t lie.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Not to me, Revna.”
I stepped up to him, arms crossed. “And don’t accuse me of lying when I’ve only ever been honest with you. Too honest, truthfully.”
He frowned. “You’re really grateful? You don’t wish I’d allowed you to go on hating me for all of it?”
“I don’t.”
Since S?ren had told me the truth, I’d been nothing but angry at him—and the inevitable way we drew together like magnets. Like the other times before, though, my anger was a shield. One I’d put up to keep myself safe.
I wasn’t sure whether it was serving me anymore, though. Especially when my mind had started to make peace with the idea that Frode made his own choices that day, too.
I didn’t want to fall into S?ren’s orbit again. Not when it would make me more vulnerable than ever before. But perhaps friendship wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. I could offer him my understanding. Mercy. Compassion.
Fighting the pull—the way I desperately wanted to tell him everything and trust him with the frustrations and failures plaguing me—was too difficult.
Everyone was going to leave me when they discovered the truth.
It was knowledge I carried constantly, a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, the awareness of how my few friends embraced me a temporary relief.
A bomb with a lit fuse, like the ones Halvar had taught Freja to make last year. Before it all imploded around me.
S?ren, though? S?ren had listened to my confession—that I’d killed Halvar—and handed me his own. He understood my monstrosity and didn’t run from it.
I leaned forward and rested my palms on the armrests, bringing my face dangerously close to his. My heart sped and I was startled to feel the thread of my Lurae tying me to him, tempo accelerating with the beat of his pulse.
I wasn’t the only one affected, then.
But I told myself it was harmless when I looked into his eyes and said, “I may not forgive you, but I don’t hate you either. Not anymore. Not when I would have done the same thing, were I in your position.”
His pupils bloomed, the black eating away at the gray until I knew desire encompassed him.
The string between us, only visible to me, pulled taut.
This time, though, I knew it wasn’t a sign of terrible things to come.
Instead, my magic saw its reflection and begged me to close the space between us until the few inches separating our faces fell away and we finally, finally—
“No.” I pulled away from him, gasping for breath. “No, I—that isn’t—we can’t—”
“Revna.” He sounded as breathless as me but managed to put a note of confidence in his voice despite it. “I don’t want anything from you that you’re unwilling to give. I told you before and I’ll tell you again now: I will not touch you unless you ask me for it.”
My hands trembled. I couldn’t face him, but I stared at the windowpanes, the glass reflecting his outline as he rose.
When he spoke next, he was directly behind me. His reflection raised a hand, hovering it over my shoulder for a long moment before he dropped it. “And please, don’t ask unless you mean it. You could break me, if you really wanted.”
And then I was alone, a chill seeping into my bones as I tried to convince myself there was no idea worse than loving the Hellbringer.