84. Clash of Stone and Steel #3
She shook herself mentally. No, there wouldn’t be a next time.
“I won’t use it if you don’t want me to,” he said.
“It’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“You should also move back into my rooms when we return to Tide’s End,” he said. “I need to stay around for a little longer while we deal with Sandrian and Magdalene, and it doesn’t make sense for you to have separate quarters. I’ll talk to Bressen. He won’t send you to Revenmyer.”
Samhail leaned in and pulled her toward him to kiss her. She let him, but her blood had stilled in her veins. He was making plans for a future that didn’t exist between them, and the regret nauseated her.
“I assume there’s nowhere pressing you need to be?” he asked. “I know you and Bressen have had your rough patches, but he’s smart enough to recognize that your abilities can be very useful. I’m sure he can find a role for you if you’re willing to work with us.”
Nemesis damn her. She had to tell him. “Samhail-”
“Just tell me what you need me to do about Cyra,” he said. His hand threaded into her hair as he pulled her to him so his forehead rested against hers. “You’re the only woman I want in my bed, Talyn. Tell me what I need to do to prove that to you, and I’ll-”
“Stop!” she said, pressing back against his chest. Her hands shook as she tried to push away from him, but his arm only curled around her, preventing her escape.
“Talyn, please,” he said, and the panic on his face crushed something inside her. “I’ll do whatever-”
“Stop,” she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. “Stop making plans.”
He was silent a moment. “Why?” he asked finally, and she heard him readying for an argument.
Talyn closed her eyes. She really hadn’t wanted to tell him this.
It would’ve been so much easier just to leave in the middle of the night, but now that she thought about it, it was probably better to do it this way.
Samhail would only come after her if she just disappeared on him. She owed it to him to at least explain.
“I’m leaving,” she said softly. “Tonight. Alone. I already spoke to Lord Bressen, and he’s not sending me to Revenmyer.”
His face showed only confusion.
“What do you mean you’re leaving alone?” he asked.
“I mean that…” Talyn tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, but it felt like she had a huge bite of unchewed apple wedged there.
“I mean that I need to go back to my life now that things are over, and I need to go back to being by myself. I can’t stay here, and I won’t be traveling with you later. I need to leave.”
Samhail’s brows drew together as his face darkened. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want to travel together?”
“Because my work relies on stealth and anonymity,” she said, “and you’re entirely too noticeable. It was good – great – while it lasted, but whatever this is between us can’t go on anymore. Aside from the fact that we’d eventually kill each other, it’s just not feasible.”
Her voice broke by the end, and she locked her jaw to keep her chin from quivering. She fought back the tears that threatened and looked away from him. This was so much harder than she’d thought it would be.
Samhail was silent a long time before he shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I said I didn’t intend to let you go, and I meant it.”
“That’s not your choice,” she said, trying to sound angry rather than like her insides were being torn to ribbons.
Samhail’s hand tightened in her hair, forcing her gaze back to his, and she saw he was looking for some sign she was only kidding. She willed her expression to remain neutral. She couldn’t let him see how much it was killing her to do this.
“No,” Samhail said, shaking his head again. “I won’t let you go.”
“You can’t stop me,” she whispered. “It’s not your choice.”
Samhail opened his mouth to speak but rethought what he was going to say and closed it. He appeared to be waging some kind of internal battle behind his dark eyes.
“No, I won’t let you go,” he said again finally, as if he’d come to a decision. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again, as if making some kind of proclamation. “Talyn of Avril, I…I claim you by Right of Primacy.”
Talyn’s brows shot together. She had no idea what that meant, but the words eased something in Samhail’s face, as if he’d somehow made peace with what he’d just spoken.
“What do you mean you claim me?” Talyn asked as his words sunk in. “What’s the Right of Primacy?”
Samhail lifted his chin. His hands still threaded through her hair keeping her head trapped. She tried to lift herself off his lap, but his muscles tensed around her, holding her fast in his embrace.
“Samhail, what’s the Right of Primacy?” she asked again, growing angry. She shook her head to dislodge his hands, and he let go of her hair.
His face hardened as if steeling himself for a battle.
“It’s a gargoyle custom,” he said, his tone more assured now. “In the human world, the nearest equivalent would be…marriage. For all intents and purposes, we’re now mated, and you’re my wife.”