2 #2
Anyway, Aire meant no harm with the comment. Yet it nudged open too many private doors, which would lead to information best kept in the dark, especially out here.
The hedges shivered, the abrasive noise grating on my flesh. He needed to leave.
Soon. Now.
Covertly, I rested a hand on my axe. “I’m sorry for almost decapitating you.”
Aire’s head snapped toward me, his lips twitching. “Almost does not count.”
A joke, coupled with the barest hint of amusement. Two phenomena from this taciturn warrior. And kill me now, a divot burrowed into the corner of that mouth. The extraordinary vision set my flesh alight, heat simmering across my flesh.
A fancy velvet jacket clung to Aire’s muscles, the navy color matching his irises, and thickets of mussed hair fell around that handsome face. He had no right to stand there looking like a sculptural masterpiece. Deadly, gorgeous, unattainable.
How many times have I imagined running into him like this? Under the cover of night, in the woods where no one would see us. His hands disappearing beneath the hem of my cloak, his rough growl scrapping against my open mouth, his fingers wrenching apart my naked thighs.
Taboo. Forbidden.
Rationale snuck up on me like a slap in the face. Aire was doing that thing he did with Nicu, cheering up the boy whenever Nicu needed it.
Humoring a friend. Not tending to a lover.
Aire clocked his head to the side. “Why did you abandon the revels?”
He tried to obscure his disappointment, the effort mincing me to pieces. “I changed my mind.”
“Brazen Creature. You’ve never changed your mind a day in your life.”
“Bold statement, Noble Knight. But I’ll amend. I was out for a stroll and never actually planned on crashing your shindig.”
Contradicting that statement, his gaze traveled to my long brown hair falling in unruly crimps from under the hood, then took stock of the secondhand dress I’d saved up to buy.
Chainmail gray and affordable wool instead of expensive silk.
Hints of the dress billowed through the cloak’s vent, though I stifled the mortifying urge to close the gap.
People called me lots of things, but let no one brand me as vain.
My disappearing act less than an hour ago wasn’t about fashion choices. While loitering near the castle courtyard, my gut had churned for a different reason, an evil realization stalling my tracks before entering the party.
Aire admired the ensemble. “That is a lovely dress.”
My upright chin faltered. I might as well be cooking on a rotisserie, the innocent compliment scalding my flesh from toes to tits. “Oh… Thank you.”
This flabbergasted reaction deepened Aire’s brotherly grin. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“I don’t need—”
“No exceptions.”
“And leave your dripping fan club waiting?”
His virtuous eyes bloated to the size of platters. “My what club?”
Shit. I respected snark and kept a stash of one-liners in my arsenal, to the point where Poet and I challenged each other to banter tournaments. Extra points if the dialogue involved profanities that made the eavesdropping nobles clutch their chastity belts.
But the kind of snark that implied jealousy? Not in front of this man.
Yet there it was. Proof that I had seen all those highborn women vying for Aire’s attention. Well-bred, well-groomed, and well-dressed. Arrested at the courtyard gate, I’d watched the scene unfold while my fingers suffocated the railing.
While competing for an artisanal taste of the First Knight’s cock, the contenders ticked all the boxes. Clad in expensive gowns, they had flapped their fans as if suffering from heat stroke and cooed whatever the fuck rich people cooed to eligible warriors who stabbed people for a living.
Aire’s face alone was enough to soak dozens of undergarments. Every citric pucker and feminine chortle had grated on my nerves like sixty-grit sandpaper.
So what if I’d wanted to ram the butt of my axe into their exfoliated faces? Likewise, I wasn’t about to metamorphose into a simpering lady to get his attention.
That aside, the visceral impulse to flirt-shame and put dents in their smiles had lasted only a second.
Ultimately, Aspen of Autumn didn’t lower herself to that bar, much less disrespect her sex out of competition over a male who grunted more than his cranky stallion.
While this soldier wasn’t a shallow peacock who prioritized wealth, a pretty face, and ass-kissing over brains and bravery, it also wouldn’t be fair to assume his admirers didn’t measure up.
I digressed. This wasn’t the reason I’d left.
Like the last celibate knight in recorded history, Aire fumbled for a response. “Every guest is appreciated. But your presence is just as meaningful.”
My impressionable pulse sprinted. Remorse and longing played a tug-of-war with my dignity.
Stop imagining he means it the way you want him to.
I shook my head. “You didn’t need me there.”
His eyebrows stapled together. “That’s not true.” Rose-tinted hope fluttered in my chest, an instant before he crushed it to smithereens. “You’re part of the clan. You’re one of us.”
An ally. A comrade.
Apart from Nicu, I was the youngest member of our fellowship. Seventeen to Aire’s twenty-seven. He was only looking out for me the way an older brother would.
“Foolish girl. He’s a grown man, a decade past your age, and a soldier of noble birth with a court full of admirers. In short, he’s out of your league.”
“He will never look at you in any other way.”
The oily residue of Rhys’s pep talk wrecked the moment.
This might be the only fact that high-and-mighty ignoramus got right.
Aire had always been fond of me, even when I baited and exasperated him, but he wasn’t a lecher.
This upstanding soldier had never seen me as anything but a little sister in the making.
It should be enough. It had to be enough.
If I shooed him out of here quickly, I might even start to believe that. Besides, this wasn’t a safe time to linger, to dwell on things too far out of reach.
False excuses cluttered my tongue, each one faker than the last, a polite string of hints to send him on his way. It was getting late, and I was tired, and he had three dozen damsels waiting in line to bang him, and I had no problem with that.
Please leave. Fuck off and take your sincerity, goodness, and sense of duty with you. Go before it hurts too much.
Desperate to quit while I was ahead, I parted my lips to deliver my best farewell. Out of nowhere, an object hovered between us, delaying the attempt. Confused, I blinked at the bundle wrapped in linen and tied with a silver ribbon.
Awkwardly, Aire cleared his throat. “For you.”
I wavered, unsure what to do. “What is it?”
“A gift.” Discouraged by my silence, he added, “It’s your favorite color.”
A gift.
A gift for me.
This man was giving me a present during his goodbye revels, when it should have been the other way around. I’d had something in mind for him, a pair of new scabbards for his swords, but I hadn’t been able to get the design right.
Carefully, I took the item, its heavy weight filling my palms. I cupped it like a relic, as if it might crumble to cinders if I held it the wrong way.
When was the last time someone gave me a present?
“I don’t know what to say,” I murmured, staring down at the bulk.
“Neither do I,” Aire confessed in a low timbre.
Awkwardness pulled across his face. In unison, we huffed out a laugh. Aire had as much practice at gifting things as I did at receiving them.
The knight scrubbed a hand through his hair, antsy as I unwrapped the linen and gasped. A whetstone. Yet not just any weapon-sharpener, but one crafted of premium masonry, finely grained and shimmering with tiny silver flecks.
Aire nudged his chin toward the stone. “Turn it over.”
I complied, flipping the stone upside-down. Letters engraved the bottom like cursive penned by ancient scribes.
Keep your edge.
My heart broke open like a shell. I traced the engraving with delicate fingers, marveling at the attention to detail.
This had been commissioned, forged by a tradesman who must have cost a hefty price.
Also, this type of stone didn’t exist in Autumn.
No, it had been imported from Winter. Either that, or King Jeryn had brought it with him at Aire’s request.
“For your axes. And to remember this night.” Aire said. “Do… you like it?”
No impractical trinkets. Aire had known better. Fripperies weren’t my style, the whetstone indicating a vital fact that chipped me to fragments.
This gift said, “I see you, despite the cloak.”
It also said, “I’ll miss you.”
Only now did it hit me with the force of a mallet. He was leaving tomorrow. Come sunrise, Aire would embark on a mission to root out the traitorous Autumn soldiers who’d aligned themselves with Rhys.
This quest wouldn’t be necessary if I knew their identities, but I hadn’t gotten it out of the Summer King. Not yet.
Until then, Aire could be gone for years.
Unworthiness, gratitude, and adoration pressed against my sternum. He’d wanted me at the revels. He had this gift made specially for the occasion.
This loyal, ethical, selfless warrior deserved everything I couldn’t offer. Not according to his principles.
Nor to the laws of survival. From the sideline, the hedge rattled. But for all his natural abilities, Aire failed to detect it.
So much the better. With every breath I drew, I could ensure he left here untouched. No matter what it cost, or how it destroyed me, or how badly I’d have to eviscerate him to get the job done. I would bury the pain, just as I did whenever crossing weapons with an adversary.
Amplifying my voice, I drove the knife home. “I don’t want to remember this night.” My gaze lifted to his. “Or you.”
A direct cut. A killing blow.
I’d told countless lies in my life. But this one was my best.
Shock contorted Aire’s handsome features, wounded apostrophes trenching between his dark brows. “Has the gift offended you?”
“That’s not the issue.”