CHAPTER NINETEEN #3
Jaw tightening, Ethenn sniffed in the cold night air. “It’s not your turn to ask a question,” he said.
“You’ll get two next time.”
Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, Ethenn shook his head, dropping her gaze at last. “Because I don’t want to tell you the truth,” he said flatly.
He stared at her hands, the jewels of her rings glittering in the golden-red light of the orb.
“And before you press me, know that I won’t give you any more insight than this: I don’t want to be a Warrior because I don’t want the life it brings, but I’ve chosen to accept it anyway.
Yes, I have family other than my uncle, but I won’t be telling you about them.
And regardless of whether you believe me or not—”
He met her stare once more then, glaring at her with his final response. “I did receive these burns while working in my uncle’s smithy. And that’s the end of it.”
Ilain watched him with a knowing, determined look. “You’re a damaged man, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
“More than most,” he admitted freely. “That’s three questions I get now.”
She dipped her chin in assent.
Agitated by her ability to see through him, Ethenn asked the question that he most wanted the answer to. “Why did you choose me?”
She had the audacity to smile sweetly at him. “Because I like you.”
Unsure how to take that simple answer, he said, “I’m not good enough.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. Next question.”
“Do you really believe Bonding makes people fall in love?”
“I do.”
Ethenn nodded, assured of no falsehood in her tone. He knew that she genuinely thought that once they were Bonded, she’d come to love him. The problem was, he wasn’t sure she was right anymore. And he didn’t know if he could stand two centuries of unrequited love.
But he had one question left to ask.
“What if you’re wrong?”
Ilain drew back, her gaze shuttered, and her lips pressed into a flat line. The light of the orb now made her appear menacing and dangerous, her pale skin flickering with ruby and gilded shadows.
“I am the foremost expert on Bonding,” she said sharply. “I have studied the institution for nearly three decades. If people have questions, they come to me for answers. I’m not wrong.”
Ethenn wasn’t deterred. “What if you are?”
She tossed a hand flippantly. “Say I am. Why should it matter? Being in love isn’t some fluke of fate, Ethenn.
I could love you or Thom or even bloody Rafferty, should I choose to.
And I would have potentially more than two hundred years to perfect that love.
So why should it bother either one of us if I’m wrong? ”
Ilain reached forward, taking hold of his hands, which hung between his knees.
“I chose you, Ethenn,” she said fiercely.
“Out of eleven Warriors in the Alliance, out of hundreds of Mages, out of a thousand men. I chose you. And I will continue to make that choice every day for the rest of our lives.”
At her words, something within Ethenn twisted.
His body thrummed as the pulse of magic rose in his veins.
His senses clarified, bringing the world into sharper focus under her touch.
The faintest scent of perfumed oil drifted across the breeze.
He wanted to take hold of her, to pull her onto his lap, and bury his face in her hair.
He wanted to enfold himself in the whole of her being.
But he didn’t believe her.
No matter what she thought, no matter what she said, she was forcing herself to feel something for him. And that could never last.
“Do we understand one another now?” Ilain asked, the soft glow of the orb glimmering in her hair.
Ethenn nodded, though he was sure she could never understand him. Nor did he want her to.
“Good.” Ilain’s eyes gleamed wildly. “Then I want you to kiss me.”
His stomach pinched. “No,” he said immediately.
“Why not?” she demanded.
He shook his head, pulling out of her touch. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Because you can’t control yourself?”
He didn’t reply, which he knew would be plenty of confirmation.
“You did just fine at our betrothal,” she noted.
“There were people around,” he said dully.
Ilain smirked. “I don’t know if you know this, Ethenn, but I’m not Evylin.” She leaned forward, inching closer across the grass on her hands. “I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor. I don’t desire Jonn Deckard, and I’m not particularly keen on honorable men.”
Their faces were within inches as she murmured, “What I do want is for my bloody husband to kiss me.”
Tension squirmed inside Ethenn’s chest. The heat was like a brand, burning all over his body, flushing him with desire.
But that was the thing: Anger felt awfully close to desire at times.
And anger had driven him to kill nearly three times now.
He was afraid to find out what the rage of full-blown desire would do to him.
His skin burned under the flame of Ilain’s proximity, her lips only a breath away. He swallowed down the longing, hardening himself against the urge within. And his words were a terse whisper between them.
“Then you’ll just have to be patient.”