Chapter 11
She's standing.
That's the first thing. Not that I slept—I didn't—not that I'm still in the chair I dropped into sometime after dawn. She's standing. By the desk. Looking at my papers.
Her ribs. The bruising. She shouldn't be—
I'm on my feet before I decide to stand. The chair scrapes back. She turns, and her face is better. Still bruised. Still split at the lip. But the swelling has gone down and the marks on her throat have shifted from purple to yellow at the edges.
Healing. Good.
I want to put my mouth on the yellow parts. Feel the blood moving underneath. Taste where it hurt.
"You're awake." She doesn't sound surprised.
"You're vertical."
"Astute."
"How long have you been up."
"An hour. Maybe two." She's watching me. "You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."
"You should have."
"Why."
Because I need to know when you're awake. Because I need to know when you move. Because every second I'm not watching you is a second someone could touch you and I wouldn't be there to remove their hands from their wrists.
"Because your ribs need rest."
"I'm fine."
She's not fine. I can see the way she's holding her weight. Favoring her left side. Breathing shallow. She's standing because staying still makes her feel trapped.
I understand that. I hate that I understand that.
The door opens.
Renan. He looks at me. Looks at her. His mouth does that thing– I want to cut off his face.
"Morning. You look like shit."
"Fuck off."
"The Hollow. Emergency session. Everyone's waiting." He leans against the doorframe. "The Houses are screaming about the breach. We need to coordinate before Coin does something dramatic."
I don't care about the Houses. I don't care about Coin.
There's a crumb at the corner of her mouth. Small. White. From what. When did she eat. Did someone bring her food while I was asleep. Who touched the plate she ate from. I want to cross the room and brush it away with my thumb. Put my thumb in her mouth after. See if she'd let me.
"Not now."
"It has to be now. Faith is drafting formal charges. War is watching to see which way we fall—"
"I said not now."
Renan's eyes flick to Iowyn. Back to me. "You're not coming because of her."
"I'm not coming because I don't care."
"You care about Discord surviving."
"Do I?"
Silence.
She's right there. Five feet away. I could cross that distance in two steps. Put my hand on her throat where the bruises are fading. Feel her pulse jump under my palm.
My hand grips the edge of the desk instead. The wood groans.
"Koshin." Renan's voice shifts. Lower. "This is actually important."
"So is she."
The words fall out. Honest. Stripped. His eyebrows go up. Iowyn goes still.
Good. Let them both know.
"Fine." Renan pushes off the doorframe. "Then bring her."
"What."
"Bring her to the meeting. She stays with you. Problem solved."
Iowyn in The Hollow. Surrounded by my elite. All those eyes on her. All those people close enough to look at her, to breathe near her, to reach for her—
"No."
"Then come without her and leave her here with guards."
"No."
"Then we don't have a meeting and Coin eats us alive."
I want to kill him. Just wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he stops being right. Watch his eye’s bulge, red veins pulsing. It would be easy. Quick. Then I wouldn't have to leave this room.
Iowyn clears her throat.
"I'll come."
Both of us turn. She's still by the desk, still holding herself wrong, but her chin is up.
"I'll come," she repeats. "To the meeting. If it helps."
"It doesn't help." Too sharp. "You're injured. You shouldn't be walking—"
"I can walk."
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"The point is I don't want people looking at you.
" The words come out flat. True. "The point is I don't want anyone breathing the same air as you.
The point is I'm barely functional when you're in a room with just me and Renan, and if I put you in a room full of my elite I might do something everyone will regret except me. " She stares at me. "So. Rest."
She stares at me.
"Breathe the same air?"
"Did I stutter?"
She blinks. Just once. Her lips part—Loss of words? Shock? I don't know. I don't care. She heard me. That's the point.
"I've been resting. For days." She takes a step toward me.
"I'm coming."
Stubborn. Reckless. Mine.
Iowyn is still looking at me.
Fine.
"You stay next to me. The entire time." My voice comes out flat. Good. "You don't leave my side. You don't talk to anyone unless I'm there—"
"I understand."
"I'm not finished."
"You're being overprotective."
"I'm being reasonable."
Renan snorts.
"If someone looks at you wrong, I'm going to hurt them." I hold her gaze. Let her see it. "That's not a threat. That's just information. Stay close."
She should argue. Tell me I'm insane. Walk away.
Instead her mouth curves. Just barely.
"Okay."
My cock stirs.
Just from that. Just from her agreeing to stay close to me.
Fuck…
The Hollow is full.
Twelve of my elite around the central table. Maps. Documents. The conversation dies the moment I walk through the door.
With her.
Every head turns. Every eye lands on Iowyn.
She's walking beside me. Her shoulder almost brushing my arm. I can feel the heat of her through my sleeve. The distance between us is two inches and it's too much, it's way too fucking much, I want her closer, want her pressed against my side where I can feel her skin expand with her breathing—
"Discord." Varn speaks first. Old. Gray beard. "We weren't expecting—"
"Plans change." I pull out the chair at the head of the table. Look at Iowyn. "Sit."
She raises an eyebrow.
"Please."
Where did that come from?
I don't say please. The word sits in my mouth like something rotting. She sits anyway.
I gave her the only seat that matters, which means there's nowhere for me now. I stand behind her instead. Better angle anyway—I can see the whole room, and no one gets to her without going through me first.
I am close enough that my hip brushes the back of her chair. Close enough that my hand could drop to her shoulder. Her neck. The place where her hair parts and I can see skin.
I could slide my fingers into her hair right now. Grip. Pull until her throat is bared and her eyes go dark. Would she gasp? Fight? Melt? I want to find out.
My hand lands on the chair back instead.
"The breach," Renan says, sliding into his spot across the table. "Coin's blaming everyone. Faith. War. Us. They don't know who hit them and they're panicking." His mouth curves. "Our people covered their tracks. For now, we're just another House being accused."
"For now," Varn says. "But if they find evidence—"
"They won't." Renan's voice is final. "The tunnels are collapsed. The bodies are gone. Kairis died in a building collapse during an 'unknown attack.' Very tragic."
The room shifts. My elite know what we did. They don't know why. They're watching me now, waiting for an explanation I'm not going to give.
I hear the words. They slide past without sticking.
Iowyn's hair is loose. Brown waves past her shoulders. I can see her neck.
Five people have kept dragging their gaze back to her. I'm keeping count. I don't know why. Nothing good lives at the end of that number.
"—proposal for a counter-narrative," someone is saying. Sira. Maybe. "We frame the breach as retrieval of stolen property—"
Her shoulders are tense. Something's wrong. Not the ribs. Something else. Someone—
Malik. Across the table. Staring at her.
His eyes track from her face to her throat to her chest and back up.
"Malik."
He looks up.
"Stop looking at her."
The room goes quiet.
"I was just—"
"You look at her again and I take your eyes." Low. Simple. "Nod if you understand."
He nods. His throat working. Good.
The meeting continues. Renan talking about fortifications. Varn talking about trade routes. I don't hear any of it.
She shifted in her chair. Her shoulder is brushing my knuckles now. Skin. Warmth. The fabric of her dress between my hand and her body.
I could slide my hand down. Over her shoulder. Down her arm.
She probably wouldn't stop me. Not here. Not in front of everyone. She'd go still and let me touch her because that's what she's learned to do when powerful men want something.
The thought makes my stomach turn. Makes my cock harder.
Fucked up. I'm so fucked up.
"—Koshin?" Renan's voice. Sharp. "The western access points."
"What about them."
"Do you want to fortify them or leave them as contingency escape routes?"
I don't care about the western access points. Iowyn's breathing has gone shallow again and she keeps shifting her weight and her ribs are hurting her and there are eleven other people in this room who could look at her—
"Fortify them."
"That cuts off our secondary retreat path."
"Then don't fortify them."
"Which is it?"
"Whichever one makes this end faster."
Renan's mouth twitches. Not annoyance. Worse. He's enjoying this. "You've been staring at the back of her head for ten minutes. I'm not judging. I'm just saying—pick one so we can wrap this up before you start plucking eye’s."
The elite go very still.
"I'm not going to—"
"You're gripping the chair hard enough to crack wood."
I look down. He's right. I release my fingers. The chair has dents now. "...I wasn't going to pluck anyone's eyes."
"Mhm."
"Fortify them," Renan says, like I already answered. "I'll figure out the retreat path later. Moving on."
The elite exchange glances. Renan grins at them, daring someone to comment.
No one comments.
Iowyn's hand drifts toward her ribs. Stops.
She needs to rest. She needs food. When did she last—
Her stomach growls.
Small.
Unmistakable.
Cutting through Varn's droning about supply lines.
She goes rigid. Her shoulders hunch forward. Embarrassment flooding her face.
Hungry.
She's hungry.
She's been sitting here in pain while these idiots talk about trade routes and she's hungry.
"We're done."
Sira stops mid-sentence. "—what?"
"We're done." I step back from the chair. "Everyone out."
"Discord." Varn's voice. "We haven't finished—"
"Out. All of you. Now."
Renan laughs. Actually laughs. "You heard the man. War's on hold. The lady's hungry."
"The Coin response—"
"Can wait."
"It can't—"
Renan walks over to Varn, strangling his shoulder. "It can wait until she's eaten."
The Mad God of Discord just ended a war council because a mortal woman's stomach made a noise.
I don't care. I don't care. I don't—
I reach down and take her hand. She lets me. Her fingers curl around mine. Warm. Small. Alive.
"Let's go."
"Where—"
"Kitchen. You're eating."
"The meeting—"
"Is over." I pull her to her feet. Gentle. Careful of her ribs. My other hand finds her waist to steady her and I don't want to let go. Don't want to stop touching her. "You're hungry."
Behind me, Renan laughs. Low. Genuine.
"We'll continue tomorrow," he tells the room. "Same time. Assuming our lord doesn't have more pressing concerns. Like lunch."
I don't turn around.
She's hungry.
Everything else can burn.