Chapter 38 #2
Emlyn snorts. “Definitely not—a prince can’t be brother to a commoner.
Once he outgrew the need for a governess, they gave Ma a nice home in the countryside.
I could’ve gone with her, but I stayed. Taran didn’t need a playmate anymore, so I needed a new purpose.
He trusted me more than anyone, so being his spy… It made sense.”
“And now?” My mind drifts back to Emlyn’s reaction to his latest task. “Does it still make sense?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “It used to be thrilling. Balancing between what I was willing to do and what was necessary. But now…” His eyes pierce through the darkness as they meet mine. “I find I don’t really want to take those risks anymore.”
Because of me? I offer him my hand, and he takes it, focusing his fiddling on my fingers.
Despite the relaxing heat from all the alcohol, my chest coils tight. I should be eager for tomorrow to come—it’s the whole reason I came here. Instead…
“What if we don’t show up tomorrow?”
A burst of laughter sounds nearby as Emlyn’s eyes flick to mine. “You’d abandon Caeo like that?”
I shrug, as my suggestion was trivial. “Ellie will be there. He’ll remember her, and he’ll go.” Just like Taran originally planned. He never wanted me here anyway.
Emlyn raises an eyebrow. “Do you really trust that’ll work out?”
Ancients’ sappy hollows… “No,” I sigh. Ellie just can’t stop making my life difficult.
“Then I’m going.” He squeezes my hand. “I don’t like Taran’s plan, but if he insists on doing this without willbending, I don’t have a better one.”
“Why won’t he? Why put everyone at risk?”
“He’s terrified of becoming his mother. Which is probably good, since I can’t think of anything more horrifying than Taran willbending as casually as she does. He’ll probably end up doing it anyway once everything goes to shit, so hopefully that happens before his plan gets us killed.”
“And then what?” My pulse quickens as I peer into Emlyn’s eyes. “What will happen after tomorrow?”
“Assuming everything goes right, and we both survive?” He takes a sip of his drink.
“It will. We will.”
A wry smile curls his lips. “To be mortal and able to say such things.” He exhales. “If I were to imagine that’s true, and Taran gets his throne, I would hope that he’d let you stay. As you, not hiding behind a glamour all the time.” He tugs at my ear. “If you wanted to, that is.”
To spend the rest of my life here, among his people? A warm glow swells in my chest as I bring his hand to my lips, kissing his fingers. “I’d like that.”
Emlyn smiles again, but it doesn’t light his face like it normally does. My heart dims at the realization that threatens to burn a hole in it.
He doesn’t think it will happen. He really believes he could die tomorrow, but he’s doing it anyway. For Taran. For Caeo.
For me.
I’m seconds away from begging him to forget about it, to get the fuck out of here with me. But before a response forms, he pats my thigh. “I want to show you something.”
He leads me out of the bustling part of the city, through the dwindling crowds. We ascend to the canopy by way of wooden walkways spiraling up the trunks, connecting neighboring trees.
The dwellings up here look like warbly eggs—some tall and narrow, others short and squat—impaled by gigantic pines. At the base of each, wood planks starburst out from the trunk, creating a precarious walkway. Emlyn stops at a smaller one and leads me inside.
“This is my home,” he announces.
We’re in the only spot with space to stand upright, which makes up about half of the lowest level. The tree itself takes up much of the area, its trunk marked with ladder-like grooves to make climbing easier. The second level, at my eyeline, seems dedicated to storage.
“It’s… cramped.”
My mom’s house—which was always uncomfortably tight for her, me, and whoever she was currently leeching off—seems like a palace in comparison.
Emlyn scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t spend much time here. Just the rare nights where I’m in town and haven’t found someone’s bed to warm.”
I crouch, peeking around the tree trunk. A small, knotty table sits low on the floor, and shelves full of clay cups, bowls, and jars splatter the walls, the spaces between embedded with an impressive collection of rocks and shells.
The more I take everything in, the cozier it feels, but we’d have to find someplace bigger if I’m sticking around.
When I stick around.
“Where’s your bed?”
Emlyn points up, then starts climbing.
When he reaches the highest level, he pulls himself onto the edge of its floor, sitting with his legs hanging over the side as he looks down at me. I follow him up, and he scoots over to make space for me. The ceiling’s mere inches above my head.
Plush fur rugs cover the floor, basically turning the entire level into a bed—one that curves around the tree trunk in a way that makes sleeping in any position other than on your side impossible.
“It’s a good thing I like to cuddle.”
Emlyn chuckles before leaning into me. “It wouldn’t work. There’s nowhere near enough room for me to do all the things I want to do to you. It’d be torture.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’d like it if you’d be willing to stay here tonight, despite that.”
I slip my arm around him, a warm glow infusing my veins as I rest my head against his soft hair. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want? Now I feel obligated to make you regret saying that.”
“You can try,” I whisper, pulling him in for a kiss.
As he lays me down, his lips claiming mine, nothing else matters—the cramped space, what tomorrow will bring—nothing.
Only him.
Come morning, I regret nothing.