Chapter 39
Ellie
Amid the pops and crackles of the fire, smoke swirls, softening the scent of manure and lanolin that’s been clinging to my skin ever since we arrived at Cadoc’s camp earlier today. Beside me, the warm light dances across Taran’s face, casting sharp shadows across his features.
An emptiness hung between us after we left White Spring, with him hardly saying a word the rest of that day.
Once Emlyn and Reid disappeared to camp by themselves, I tried to get him to open up about what had happened—how he’d bent Merfyn—but he refused.
All I could do was be there for him, curled up in his arms, until his gentle caresses lulled me to sleep.
The next day saw an improvement in his mood—I’d even say he was back to normal, except I don’t know what normal is now.
It feels like we’ve progressed to being in a relationship, but something’s off.
An uncertainty, cutting deep in my chest. Having never courted anyone before, I have nothing to compare things to, but I assumed that after our first kiss, there’d be more of that.
While he’s kissed my temples a few times, his every touch has felt hollow, and there’s been no attempt at anything more passionate.
And he looks away whenever I meet his eyes. As if my gaze burns him, or he fears what I’ll see.
I’m trying my best not to take it personally.
His burdens must be weighing on him more than ever, with the betrayal, willbending, and facing his mother tomorrow.
Whatever comfort I can give him will have to be enough; we can sort out the details of our relationship after I help take his kingdom back from his mother.
Not that I know how I’m doing that, and the ambiguity’s been eating me alive.
He’s tried to clarify my role, but the most we can get me to remember is that Reid knows what I’m supposed to do, so as long as I go to Taran’s old room with him and Aerona, I’ll understand when the time is right.
Our host, Cadoc, will only be attending the wedding as a guest—he can’t risk his people with anything more.
But six of them, whose loyalty he vouches for, have volunteered to back us up as we make our escape.
Taran refuses to entertain the possibility of total defeat. It’s nerve-wracking, if I’m honest with myself. Emlyn’s doubts about Taran’s judgment keep creeping up from the darkest corners of my mind.
“Ellie? Did you get that?”
The fire flares with an exceptionally loud crack as I turn my attention back to Taran.
He’s been reviewing the plan, but my curse has made it nearly impossible to stay focused on the discussion.
It’s as if it and the wedding are intrinsically linked, but all my attempts to figure out why feel like I’m wandering through a heavy haze.
At my confused expression, Taran gives up, announcing we’ll review everything with Reid and Aerona in the morning. Then he disappears into the tent Cadoc offered him for the night.
After a few minutes, I follow.
I poke my head inside the tanned leather tent. Taran sits with one of his bone knives, sharpening it against a stone. A couple candles provide a dim glow, lighting the wool blankets laid out as a makeshift bed.
“Taran?”
“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up.
I swallow, considering the best way to show my support. “I’m sorry if I was frustrating you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I sit next to him, resting my hand on his—the one holding the blade—and he pauses his strokes. “Everything will be alright.”
Taran exhales. “I wish I could believe that. You may be the only one who does. But if it does go well…” He still hasn’t looked at me, but rubs my hand with his thumb.
I cup his cheek in my palm, tilting his face to mine. Sorrow darkens the green in his eyes.
“It will,” I say.
He lifts his hand, running hesitant fingers through my hair. Heat swells at his touch, my heart pounding with every breath between us.
His lips part, a breath away, and the world narrows to that single point of gravity pulling us together.
He closes his eyes and tugs me close, pressing against me with a sweet, sealing kiss.
Gentle at first, until he catches my lower lip with his teeth.
I push into him, his taste stirring a hunger deep within me.
But it’s not enough; there’s an emptiness still unsatisfied.
I climb into his lap, gliding my fingers through his soft hair as I kiss him again, breathing in his pine scent.
His tongue slips into my mouth, and teasing fingers grip my back, building an ache in my core that yearns for his touch.
He slides his hands further down as our kiss deepens, my body burning with desire as they wrap around my backside.
Taran’s hard length presses between my thighs, and a coil of raw anticipation tightens within me. Yearning for him. Ready for him.
But my heart stutters. I pull back, freeing my lips from his.
Something’s… wrong. He’s the first man I’ve kissed, yet I’m eager to give him everything, as if my body knows exactly what to do, despite being in the middle of a busy camp that stinks of sheep. I always envisioned my first time being more romantic.
Do I fear tomorrow that much?
I bury the thought. My core’s throbbing with impatience, my lips hungry for his.
His eyes slip open.
GREEN.
I throw myself off him, my heart slamming against my chest. Taran scrambles up, his feet tangling in the blanket.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. “I-I…”
What just happened?
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine,” I say, then push myself up. “It’s… I can do this.”
Taran runs his hand through his hair, shifting it away from his eyes. “No. Not tonight.” He swallows. “Tomorrow—after. If you still want to. But not tonight.”
He’s gone before my mind even catches up to what he said, leaving me alone and more confused than ever.
* * *
I step into the morning air with renewed determination to make sure Taran succeeds today; it’s unclear what will happen after, but we’ll have prevented a war, and then maybe I can figure out how to convince everyone at home that incanting’s wrong.
But for now, I’m wearing the servant’s garb Aerona gave me: a simple, hooded dress of undyed wool, with a long belt that matches the dark blue tunic Aerona wears—the perfect shade against her auburn curls.
She breaks away from her conversation with Taran and Emlyn, giving me a sharp nod. Then she directs me to sit near the remains of last night’s fire so she can braid my hair.
“Why? Won’t I have the hood up?” The dress, while warmer than the shirt and pants I’ve been wearing, won’t stop the icy morning dew from soaking through. I don’t need to spend half the day with a wet backside.
“It’s tradition, and people will notice. Now, sit.” Her rosy eyes bore into me until I comply.
With a grumble, I bunch my skirt beneath me and sit on the damp ground. “Will they really let you wander through the palace with us?” I wince as she tugs my hair much harder than necessary. Clearly, she has a problem with me.
“My father was one of the queen’s most trusted generals. There’s little reason to suspect any treachery from me.”
“Even though you’re friends with Taran?” I ask, watching him weave around some sheep on his way to Cadoc.
“We had a very public breakup four years ago and have hardly been seen together since. No one would consider us friends.”
I knew it. I bite back the smile trying to break free. The thought of Taran going from someone as beautiful as her to me? It’s petty, but it makes me feel good about myself.
She tucks my hair into my hood as she pulls it over my head, then she leans close to my ear. “A word of advice: keep your distance. You can’t fix him.”
“Fix him?” Does everyone really think Taran’s that broken?
But she’s already gone, joining Emlyn, who’s busy fussing with the bandages on Reid’s chest. She hugs him like an old friend, laughing at something he says while Reid blushes. She lifts her palm to Reid, and Emlyn directs him to press his against hers. It must be the fae equivalent of a handshake.
A pang of jealousy cuts through me. All I wanted from attending the Academy was to find people I could truly connect with—people who understood me. Several months later, I’m trapped in the faelands with no way of knowing if I’ll ever make it home, Reid wants nothing to do with me, and Taran…
There he is, still talking to Cadoc. I have no idea where he slept, and he’s avoided me all morning—I waited for ages inside the tent for him to do my glamour, only for Emlyn to pop in and do it himself, grumbling all the while.
As irritating as that was, my heart twists at the thought that Taran may very well go off to face his mother without saying a word to me.
Determined not to let that happen, I march toward him.
“Can we talk?” I say, interrupting Cadoc. He stares at me, and my cheeks burn with regret at my zealousness.
Meanwhile, Taran averts his gaze as he rubs the back of his neck. Cadoc excuses himself, my anxiety swelling as he departs.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I should’ve waited.”
Taran finally looks at me. Despite the healthy glow to his skin, his eyelids sink, as if weighed down. “What did you need?”
“I…” Now that I’m here, everything I could say floods my mind, and my nerves spike with indecision—words of anger, fear—but I settle on honesty. “I didn’t want last night to be our last moment together. In case… things don’t go well today.”
Taran’s face softens, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I didn’t consider that.”
With tentative hands, I wrap my arms around him, tightening the embrace when he doesn’t pull away. I rest my face against his chest, melting into him.
“Tell me you’ll be safe,” I whisper, the steady drum of his heart beating in time with mine.
His fingers caress my back, his voice thick. “I can’t.”
The rhythm hitches as I fight the sting behind my eyes. He folds his arms around me, and I lift my gaze to his.
“You will be.” It’s a promise. To him, and myself.