Chapter 23 #2
He retreated into the third room next to Tislin’s and lay on a long chair.
The room was empty aside from that single piece of furniture.
The way Moira looked at Tislin, Tristian was surprised the room hadn’t been allocated to his brother.
Though he was sure the baby would take it once born.
Moira had to be about five months along now.
She barely showed, which probably helped her keep her secret from Kienna and Danek.
Tristian gave her about another two or three weeks before she’d have to come clean.
Kienna brought a few blankets and set them down for him. With them, she handed him a book.
“What’s this?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Poetry.”
He opened the book, sifting through the pages. They were ancient texts from the Edranic civilization. Tristian could speak some of the language, but not enough to fully decipher the text. He breathed a small laugh. “May I take this back to Trinity with me?”
“Of course. It’s all yours.”
Kienna gave him one more glance before leaving.
He watched her go as the morning light settled in the room.
Tristian listened to the voices in the city, the faint conversations between Connak, Moira, and Tislin in the room next to him.
Out on the terrace, asterlilies bloomed.
He thought of his mother, how she died in this city, and he’d avoided it ever since.
He’d done a disservice to Dove Port because of it, never truly allying his army with the city. He’d fix that.
He’d fix all of it. It was what he was meant to do.
—Moira—
Moira stirred a bowl of boiled potatoes, pushing all her energy into mashing them down and folding them into the salts and creams. She didn’t know which would have tasted better, so she used all three options offered to her by The Elarent House.
She was supposed to be working that evening, but her heart couldn’t manage it.
Not with Tislin strung up in bed and Danek’s hands barely recovering.
So, she cooked. Kienna had watched the place while Moira ventured into the city to find all the ingredients to make her feel better.
She stopped in to check on Elowen, then spent the entire afternoon pouring seasonings on food and putting them over a fire.
The men in the house slept all day, as they should have after the night they had.
Moira wanted to sleep, too, yet her body wouldn’t let her sit.
Kienna asked her only once, and after Moira snapped at her, she left for a run.
Moira would have protested, her arm being strung up in a sling, though after yelling at her, she no longer felt entitled to.
When Kienna came back, she was cupping her arm.
“We can get Connak to heal the pain,” Moira said.
Kienna plopped on the sofa. “I’d rather not. He and I are in a weird place right now.”
“We still don’t know if Danek’s hands will work.”
“I don’t need anyone healing me. I can manage the pain.” By now, Kienna’s eyes were closed, and her voice was distant.
Moira almost argued. Kienna had a healer at her disposal for most of her life. King Vaerin. Danek. Connak. She wanted to say as much but didn’t think it was conducive to their friendship. Her exhaustion tugged at her. “I invited Elowen to dinner. She might not come, though. Thorn is back in town.”
“Mhm.”
A smile tugged at Moira’s lips. “She gave me one of her rats to cook.”
“That’s nice, Moira.”
She must have been drifting. Moira shook her head.
“We have a house full of handsome men, Kienna. Maybe you should go—” A bedroom door opened, and Tristian entered.
Kienna didn’t budge from her spot, sleeping fully now.
Tristian met Moira’s eye, and her cheeks flushed instantly. “Tislin is still asleep.”
“Thank you. I trust you’ll do a fine job watching after him.
” Tristian sat on the chair across from Kienna as he laced his boots, the strings frayed from years of use.
He glanced once at Kienna as she slept, a subtle, golden glow encompassing his body.
If she hadn’t been looking closely, Moira would have missed it.
In fact, in the heat of everything, Moira hadn’t noticed much about him until now.
Tristian had ditched the armor for once.
Still, he managed to look like he was preparing for battle.
A deep, green tunic stretched across his back, sleeves rolled to the elbow.
Over it, he wore a leather vest. His pants were dark, fitted, and rough to move in.
Once his boots were laced, he nodded to her and motioned toward the door.
Moira stopped him. “I’m making food. You’ve got to be hungry.”
“I have business to attend to. Thank you for the space to sleep.” He nodded toward Tislin’s room. “And for all of them.”
Tristian didn’t wait for Moira to respond as he left.
Moira jolted Kienna awake. “Tristian left.”
Kienna blinked, dragging herself out of sleep. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. “Okay.”
“I want him to come back.”
“So, go get him?”
Moira hesitated, gaze dropping to the floor. “Would you, please? He’s taken with you.”
Kienna snorted, scrubbing a hand through her hair as she straightened. “Tolerates me.”
“The man glows around you, so if you could, please.” Moira crossed her arms, leaving little room for argument. “I’d like to have a dinner where we can all feel normal.”
“Tristian being here is not norm—”
“Please, Kienna.” Moira tried to hide the laced contempt in her voice, but the strain in her tone must have worked. Kienna sat forward, groaning. She followed him out anyway.