Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Unexpected Consequences
Skellie’s Inn
Dravic closed the door behind them, the simple latch falling into place.
He dropped his cloak on the chair as he crossed the room to the lone window.
Pulling the curtain aside, he scanned the village before giving thought to his warriors.
They had to be searching for him, but how long would it be before they found him, and how long before his identity was discovered?
Adira settled on the edge of the bed, watching him stare out into the night. After a few moments, he let the curtain drop back into place, went to the hearth and began to pace in front of it.
“It makes no sense,” he muttered. “My grandfather had Ernach hunted down and killed.”
Dravic stopped pacing and stared down at the floor, then resumed pacing.
“Yet those men spoke of him as though they had shared a drink with him yesterday.”
Adira’s eyes followed him. His long strides would quicken then slow and then he would stop, then pace some more. Whatever the two old men in the common room had told him had stolen his peace.
She wished she understood. She wished she could offer comfort and help restore a modicum of peace, though she doubted he had much of that. She had come to realize that a king enjoyed only random moments of peace, and even those were far and few between.
She continued to watch him, having learned long ago that watching a person’s face was almost like hearing him speak. His brow remained drawn, his jaw tight, his hands opening and closing as though trying to grasp an answer that refused to come.
“Could it be Ernach or someone pretending to be him? A good tale could earn a man more than a drink or two,” Dravic said, and stopped pacing. He pressed his hand to the back of his neck. “My grandfather never lied to me. Or did he?”
He started pacing again, his expression still filled with questions.
Adira always sat and listened to the king. It was her task. It was what he expected of her. But for some reason she felt restless herself and she needed to step away from him. She stood and waited to see if he would turn to her, but he didn’t. He was far too busy talking and pacing.
She went to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Soft torch lights lit a path through the village, and she smiled, seeing the snow resting lightly upon the tree branches, glistening in the light. Beyond the village lay the wider forest.
Her home.
She always thought of the forest as her home. There were times when she was in the forest that she thought she heard it speak to her. If she watched a bird long enough, the rippling of a stream, or a single leaf swaying in the breeze, she could have sworn they whispered to her.
She closed her eyes just for a moment and imagined walking in the forest beneath the ancient boughs.
Feena’s face suddenly interrupted the image.
It had taken repeated warnings for Adira to understand there were places she did not go, boundaries she did not cross.
Feena had taught her to identify the boundaries by trees and plants.
If she saw certain ones, she was to stay away from them. It was not a safe place to go.
Yet she never felt threatened anywhere in the forest, not even the areas Feena cautioned her against.
To her, the forest was safe. Outside of it was where the danger lay.
A hand settled on her shoulder, warm and firm.
Adira startled, turning quickly. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had paid no mind to the king.
The deep lines of worry had softened, though they had not disappeared. Instead, concern now filled his eyes as he searched her face.
His hand slipped from her shoulder to lightly brush a strand of hair away from her cheek.
Adira forgot the forest. She forgot the room.
His fingertips lingered only an instant, yet warmth spread through her as though he had continued the caress.
His gaze held hers. Then, slowly, it drifted to her lips.
She knew that look. She had seen it just before he had kissed.
The memory rushed back with startling clarity. The warmth of his mouth, the tenderness she had never expected from a man who ruled a kingdom with unwavering strength.
She made no move to step away, though her lips parted ever so slightly. If he kissed her again, she would welcome it.
Dravic stood motionless. The room seemed suddenly too quiet. He should step back. He should remember who he was.
Instead, he found himself leaning toward her, drawn by a temptation he had no business entertaining.
Just one kiss.
Nay.
He scowled and with visible effort stepped away from her, cursing himself for even considering it.
He was king. A king who could not allow himself to think like a man whenever she looked at him with those trusting green eyes.
With a regal lift of his chin, he pointed sharply toward the bed. “Go to bed.”
Adira stared at him. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw disappointment flicker in his eyes before it disappeared behind the stern mask he wore so well.
She understood… the king had returned.
She did as he ordered and got into bed.
He went and stood for a long moment before the hearth, watching the flames dance around the logs. Without a word, he unbuckled his sword belt and rested it within easy reach of the chair. He lowered himself into it, stretched out his long legs, and leaned back.
Adira watched him from beneath the thin blanket. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, though she doubted he saw it. His thoughts were elsewhere. But where? On the two men he spoke with. Or on a kiss that never was?
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and surprisingly sleep came quickly.
Dravic closed his eyes with no intention of sleeping.
He would not take the chance since he was in unfamiliar surroundings and without his guards to protect him.
He was well trained to defend himself if necessary.
His father had begun his training when he was young, and his grandfather continued it after his da’s death.
But it wasn’t only himself he needed to keep safe.
There was Adira.
He shook his head. He had almost kissed her again and he could not let that happen. A kiss would not protect her. It would do the opposite and bring her only… he shook his head again. She deserved so much more.
He drifted off in a light sleep, cognizant of every sound or slightest movement.
A sharp chill brushed across Dravic’s face and his eyes opened.
More time had passed than he realized, the fire having nearly died, leaving only a dull red glow beneath a blanket of gray ash. He rubbed a weary hand over his face and rose from the chair, every muscle reminding him that a wooden seat had never been meant for sleeping.
Only three logs remained in the basket beside the hearth.
He fed them to the fire one at a time, watching as small flames slowly licked at the dry wood. It would be enough until morning.
As he turned away, his gaze settled on Adira. She had drawn herself into a tight ball beneath the blanket. Even in sleep she trembled.
A scowl briefly crossed his face as he crossed the room. He rested the back of his fingers lightly against her hand.
Cold. Far colder than it should have been.
He glanced toward the fire. The room would warm again… eventually. But she was cold now. He stood there longer than he should have.
Finally, with a quiet sigh born more of resignation than desire, he pulled off his boots, moved his sword beside the bed where his hand could reach it in an instant, then he slipped beneath the blanket. The mattress shifted beneath his weight.
Careful not to wake her, he eased an arm around her waist and drew her gently against him.
She stirred.
For one uncertain heartbeat he thought she might wake.
Instead, her chest rose and fell in a soft sigh, then she nestled closer, instinctively seeking the warmth he offered.
Her trembling eased. Only then did he allow himself to relax.
Only until she was warm, he told himself, then he would return to the chair.
Outside, the winter wind rattled the window. Inside, the warmth of the fire slowly spread through the room.
His eyes grew heavy.
The last thing he remembered was the steady rise and fall of Adira’s breathing against his chest before sleep claimed him.
Shouts broke through his sleep, disturbing his pleasant warmth. He would see someone in the castle reprimanded for this.
A deafening blow rattled the door, and Dravic’s eyes flew open. He was not home in Caerith Castle, he was in an inn. He came instantly alert, though for one brief moment he did not move. Warmth rested against him.
Adira.
She lay asleep in his arms, her cheek against his chest, the blanket tucked securely around them both.
Another blow struck the door.
“My king!”
The familiar call reached him just as the wooden latch gave way.
The door burst inward. Two of his elite guards stormed into the room with swords drawn, prepared to defend their king. They stopped as if rooted to the floor.
The room fell deathly silent.
Dravic needed no explanation for the astonishment written plainly across their faces. They saw exactly what he saw.
The king of Scotara in bed, holding the young woman the kingdom believed to be his servant.
The tremor in the room had awakened Adira. She lifted her head, confusion clouding her face. Her gaze moved to the doorway where two-armed strangers stood motionless. Before she could make sense of it, she became aware of the arm around her.
She looked down, then slowly up at the king. Worry immediately settled in her eyes.
Dravic withdrew his arm and sat up, never taking his eyes from the guards.
“Explain,” he ordered.
The elder guard was the first to recover.
“We searched for you since we got separated, my king. When your horse was found here, the innkeeper told us you were up here. You did not answer our knock.”
“So, you broke down the door.”
“Nothing would stop us from reaching you and know you are safe, my king.”