Ten #2
“Yes and no. It’s more complex than that.” Rorik failed to keep the amusement from his voice. “Don’t worry about it for now. You’ll be able to do more soon enough.”
Rolling my neck from side to side, I pinned him with a scowl. “Assuming you don’t stop teaching me, of course.”
“Of course.”
Another errant pang spurred in my neck, and I winced. Removing my hands from his, I kneaded my fingers deep into the muscles curving from the base of my skull down to my shoulders.
Rorik tipped his head to the side, his sly grin growing impossibly sharp. “You could ask for help, you know. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
My gut tightened at the memory of his fingers working the length of my spine.
It had been a few days after he and Orin had rescued me from the Starglens’ den, where I’d been strung up and lacerated by an ancestor tree of their own.
Once I was healthy enough to train, I’d met him here, on these very lawns.
I’d known from the look in his eyes and the clipped tone of his voice that something was wrong.
I hadn’t objected—much—when he’d offered to knead the muscles between my shoulders.
I’d liquefied into his arms that evening, soaking up the relief his touch brought.
Once he’d released every possible knot, he’d pressed my back against his chest, cradling me between his legs, and forced me to breathe in time with him.
Practice, he’d called it. In reality, it’d felt an awful lot like peace—something we both needed at the time.
“You won’t catch me denying that offer.” I let my hands fall away as I turned in place, giving him my back.
“Someone likes a little pain with their pleasure.” He immediately found a knot, and a moan instinctively slipped from my parted lips. Fucking great timing. A pleased chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Again with the sounds.”
“Shush. It can’t be helped.”
“Not where I’m concerned.” His response was purely mischievous and downright smug, and I was thankful he couldn’t see the heat crawling up my cheeks.
I bit down on my tongue to bury another moan as he targeted a fresh knot.
His fingers worked to chase away the more incessant pains, and while it did little to alleviate the headache or exhaustion, his thorough touch did coax me into a familiar liquid state.
Before I knew it, I was leaning against his chest again.
His hands fell away, and he rested his elbows on his bent knees, so his arms dangled in a loose cage around my body.
Silence stretched between us as dusk settled over the lawns.
The quiet chirps of insects began to lilt over the still air, and a few nightingales called from their invisible perches within the surrounding woods.
As a handful of brilliant white stars burst to life in the lilac sky, I let out a quiet sigh. Peace. Just like before.
“What are you thinking?” he whispered against the shell of my ear.
“Can’t you tell?”
He seemed to consider that for a moment before shifting, angling his head forward so that I could just catch the profile of his face in my peripheral. “If you let me.”
The heartbond. I felt a gentle tug along that golden river winding through our chests.
Since my little . . . outburst after seeing Ossanna, I’d tried my hardest to keep my emotions in check.
And, judging by the lack of foreign anger or irritation flooding me in turn, I assumed that meant he was doing the same.
For now, that was safest. Talking, though, that I could do.
I was just admiring the scene. The words rolled easily from my mind and flew down our bond as quickly as if I’d uttered them aloud. Lydia was right. Physical contact certainly seemed to help.
Rorik’s heady stare felt like a warm blanket against my skin. You once told me that you never wanted to see this place again.
I was mad and hurt. Can you blame me? I shifted in his lax embrace so I could study every inch of his expression.
After killing Orin and ridding Fernglove, temporarily, of blight, I’d awoken from slumber furious.
I’d been betrayed by Orin and Rorik so deeply, so viscerally, that I hadn’t been able to see beyond my own immediate need to run.
Just like Rorik had taught me. Sadness flickered through his eyes, and he dipped his head low toward my shoulder.
His breath skated along my neck, and my pulse ratcheted to an unbearably fast cadence that I was positive he could sense.
I’m sorry, Edira. The slow, measured way his words fell into my mind spoke to a churning guilt that was amplified down our bond. It swirled around me, threatening to drag me under with the certainty of a fast-moving current, but I didn’t want to drown in the past anymore.
Turning my head, I dragged the tip of my nose lightly against his cheek. His frame tensed, but his lips just barely caressed the curve of my neck. The ghost of a kiss, and while it was so unbearably faint, it sent a purl of heat through my limbs that I couldn’t explain.
“I forgive you, Rorik.” I wanted him to hear the words spoken out loud so we could put an end to the maelstrom of grief plaguing our bond.
I also needed to feel the weight of those words on my tongue, to measure whether I was truly ready to move on.
And I was. Rorik’s actions, as misguided and horrific as they were, had been entirely orchestrated by Orin.
I’d nearly lost my brothers because of them, but Rorik had been powerless to stop Orin’s rule.
Still, the more I sat with the weightlessness and relief that came with reconciliation, the easier it was for me to remember everything else he did to try to save me from the nightmare Orin had devised.
I wouldn’t have survived without Rorik.
Gently, I cupped the side of his face and angled him toward me.
His gaze was thick with emotion, and a tendon flexed in his jaw.
So much raced through his stare that it was impossible to catalog it all—even more so because, at that moment, he’d sealed his feelings away behind an impenetrable wall at his end of our heartbond.
It was so sudden and staunch that it left me reeling, and a chill swept down my spine.
“You should’ve stayed away.” Rorik’s throat bobbed as he scooted out of our comfortable cocoon, and then he simply stood up and walked away. I blinked at his retreating form while anger and frustration raged in my mind.
Why? What just happened? Why just . . . walk away? I sent every ounce of my irritation down our bond, trying in vain to break down the icy exterior he’d erected on his end, but it didn’t even shudder under my wrath. All I could do was fume alone.
Gritting my teeth, I flopped onto my back and glared at the evening sky, headache now on full blast. He was such an ass.
I’d known it from the start, but something about this exchange felt different.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it reminded me of those unnamed emotions quietly snaking down our heartbond.
I could never pin them down. Just like Rorik.
Exhaustion tugged at my senses, and I blew out a long breath.
A twisting pain spiraled down my neck and infiltrated the muscles Rorik had just loosened.
I couldn’t help but wince. Maybe it wasn’t the magic feeding the aches in my bones, but the wielder himself.