Chapter 43
MYRA
The embers emitted a soft glow as dusk fell outside the cave. The light from the fire bounced off the cave’s walls, humming and pushing at the shadows that crept inside. The crackling wood and the soft rustling of leaves outside were the only sounds around the fire.
Myra wrapped her arms around her legs, squeezing them against her chest. It wasn’t as cold as it had been on previous nights, but the light pressure was comforting and settled her nerves.
With a groan, Rian stood, stretching his arms to the sky. "I’m going to go take a lap."
Laurince swiftly shook his head. "I can go. You two should stay here."
"Unless you wish to help me take a leak, sit your ass back down, Lo," Rian said, waving him off.
Myra quirked her brows. "What about the bounty?"
Rian pointed to his head. "I’m unrecognizable, remember?"
"Not entirely unrecognizable," Laurince mumbled under his breath.
They would reach the capital tomorrow, which meant that Rian’s chances of being recognized had increased tenfold because of his proximity to the castle.
They had done their best to avoid the villages where possible.
When they were forced to pass through them, Rian kept his head down.
But they could all sense the tension among the civilians.
They had opted to avoid the inns at all costs, despite the knots in their backs and shoulders.
But even in the deserted cave they had found, there was still a chance of hunters or soldiers searching the woods.
They wouldn’t be safe until the war was over and Rian was back on the throne.
Rian swiped his sword from the ground and twisted it in the air. "Happy?"
"Not even close," Laurince argued gruffly.
"Too bad. Maybe Mys can help you navigate your feelings, yeah?"
Myra’s gaze snapped to Rian, who was backing away as Laurince poked the fire with a long stick, mumbling to himself. A rebuttal was on the tip of her tongue, but Rian was quicker.
He tipped his head in Laurince’s direction and mouthed, "Do it."
She glared at Rian, realizing he was using this as an excuse to make her listen to his advice from the other day.
But before she could argue, he left the cave, slipping into the woods with a mischievous grin on his face.
Myra held her legs closer to her chest. Yet no matter how hard she squeezed them, her heart hammered against her ribcage.
She kept her focus on the fire, praying that Laurince couldn’t hear her rancorous heartbeat.
Minutes passed, and neither she nor Laurince broke the silence.
Restless, Myra shifted. She crossed her legs and slipped her hands beneath her thighs. Her knees bounced as she glanced between the fire and the entrance of the cave. Maybe Rian was right. Maybe she should tell Laurince.
Then again, what if she told him and Rian came back and overheard her silly proclamation? How embarrassing would that be?
"He’ll be fine," Laurince said, poking a burning coal with a stick. The rock disintegrated upon contact.
"Hmm?" Myra hummed, dragging her attention from the fire to him.
He propped his leg up, throwing his arm over it. "I just mean that Rian knows how to use that sword of his."
Myra’s brows scaled up her forehead. "Oh?"
"That’s not—that wasn’t—" Laurince rubbed his hand across his face in embarrassment.
Myra tilted her head, eyeing the captain. Was he blushing?
"What I meant was…" He cleared his throat and scratched the scar on his neck. "When I said I didn’t want him to go before, it’s not because I don’t have faith in his ability to wield a sword.
He’s been thoroughly trained. I’ve trained with him many times.
He can handle himself if he were to come across someone or something.
Although I doubt he will. I just did a lap around the campsite not even half an hour ago. This area seems deserted."
"That’s…that’s good," Myra said, unsure why Laurince was babbling. He was sounding like her.
"So you don’t have to worry."
"Do I look worried?"
"Well…" He gestured to her knee, which was still bouncing against the ground. "You haven’t stopped fidgeting since he left."
"Oh." Myra froze. "Oh. You think I’m worried about his safety?"
"Of course."
If only it were that simple.
She hadn’t realized Laurince paid that close attention to her. She sucked in her bottom lip and chewed on it nervously. When Laurince clocked the movement, her heart pounded. She released her lip immediately.
Dropping her gaze to the pebbles on the cave floor in front of her, she confessed, "I’m not worried about him."
"Then what’s the matter? Are you cold? I can add more wood to the fire," Laurince offered, getting ready to stand.
"No, no," Myra said quickly. "You shouldn’t."
"I can though. We can let it burn a little longer. I’m sure—"
"It’s you," she blurted.
Laurince stilled, half-standing, half-sitting, frozen awkwardly in the middle.
She forced herself to look at him. The embers were like stars in his dark eyes as he gaped at her.
"Me?" he asked, pointing at himself as he slowly sat down.
Myra nodded, and the regret was instant.
Gods, she was so foolish. She shouldn’t have said anything.
"Why me?"
"Because you…you…" Myra sighed, struggling to find the words. Why was this so hard? It shouldn’t have been. Yet her palms were sweating, her tongue felt heavy, and despite the cold, her hair was sticking to the back of her neck.
"Wait, Haze," Laurince said, concern filling his voice. "Do I make you nervous?"
"No, of course not." She wiped her palms on her trousers. Then, she admitted quieter, "Maybe?"
Dejection, guilt, and regret twisted around him, and Myra didn’t understand it. Had she said something wrong?
"Is it because of what happened back at the tavern?" he asked.
What happened at the tavern certainly didn’t help.
Myra was sure she had developed some kind of interest in the captain before then, but the tavern had caused something to change.
It was there that she realized she couldn’t deny she enjoyed his presence.
She would have been lying if she said she hadn’t thought about dancing with him, his hand on her waist, his—
She cleared her throat. "Maybe?"
Laurince nodded, but the movement was rigid. "I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. Truly, I am."
"What for?" she asked, afraid of the answer. If she had been wrong—if she had misread his emotions—things were going to get awkward fast.
He pulled the cuff of his sleeve down, stretching the fabric over his hand. "For scaring you. I shouldn’t have been so brutal, but it was as if something had overtaken me." He leaned his weight to one side, then the other. "When I saw you, I…I was so angry. More than I had ever been before."
"What could I have done to upset you?" she asked, suddenly regretting starting this conversation.
"You? You did nothing," Laurince said, aghast. "But I shouldn’t have killed him. If I had missed him, I could have hurt you. It was reckless and stupid and—"
"By the gods, you are more foolish than I thought," Myra mumbled, shaking her head and standing.
Laurince tracked her movements, but Myra didn’t think he was really seeing her. His brows were drawn tight, his brown eyes wide and full of sorrow.
"Yes, and foolish," he said as he nodded repeatedly. "I shouldn’t have done it, but I had to do something. He had a blade pressed to your throat. If he had harmed you—"
Myra grabbed his head between her hands. The shock and panic puckered his lips and enlarged the whites of his eyes. In any other situation, his expression would have been comical.
"Laurince," she said, drawing out the syllables of his name.
"I know," he said, the words mumbled.
She loosened her hold, her touch melting into a caress.
He wrapped one hand around her wrist. His calloused fingers were a balm to her skin.
"It was a foolish decision. It put you at risk, and now you’re nervous to be around me because I scared you—" The crease in the center of his forehead deepened as he looked at her quizzically. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because," Myra answered, chuckling, unable to contain her amusement, "you’re not listening."
"Yes, I am." He pulled back as if offended, which only made Myra’s smile widen even more.
"No, you’re not. You’re not a foolish man because you saved me. You’re a foolish man because you believe I am scared of you for what you did when that couldn’t be further from the truth."
"Then what…what is it?" His eyes flitted across her face, searching for the answer as if his life depended on it. "Why do I make you nervous?"
"Isn’t it obvious?" Myra asked, her hands still resting on his sharp jawline.
"Apparently not," Laurince muttered.
Myra exhaled.
Are all men really this daft?
She had only been this close to him once when they were dancing, and even then, she didn’t dare stare too long at his features out of fear of being found out.
But what had she been afraid of? Why had she let herself go without seeing him this close up before?
His jaw was sharp as a knife. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled from years of laughter, and softened the hard edges of his cheekbones.
Her attention dipped to his mouth, where his lips were set in a flat line.
She looked to the spot where she knew a small dimple hid.
As she observed him, her breaths shortened, and the thump of her heart pounded harder.
"Haze?"
"Yes, Laurince?" His name was no more than a breath on her lips.
He swallowed, the bump in his throat rising and falling. "Why do I make you nervous?" he asked again, his voice low and his pupils dilating. He brushed her collarbone with a knuckle, sweeping a stray hair away. The touch sent a chill across her skin, and heat pooled low in her stomach.
The beat of her heart was an echo in her ears. It hummed, pounding, threatening to burst through her ribcage. Her eyes dipped to his lips again. He scraped his bottom lip with his teeth, and she wondered if he was even conscious of doing it.