Chapter 23
Aoife
Iblinked my eyes open, transported to a different place, a different time, one where I went to sleep every night with the sound of others breathing around me, the scent of them, the nearness, the warmth.
I hadn’t felt this in so long, and it was disorienting.
I wondered if maybe I’d dreamt the last two years, that I was actually still a slave, waking up like I had every day for thousands of years.
A body pressed into mine, the warmth and comfort of it like a cloak as the sun shone through the little round window in my safe haven.
Lor’s familiar musky scent washed over me, and the events of the previous night rushed to the forefront of my mind.
Ceri’s dress shop. The prisoner. And wine. A lot of wine.
Flashes of him helping me back to my room, of Castle shifting and bringing us here, of Lor trying to leave and me telling him not to appeared in my mind.
I couldn’t very well blame Lor for sleeping next to me when I’d asked him to.
My gaze traveled down to his hand resting on my belly, and heat instantly flooded me at the memory of the last time we’d fallen asleep together, of where I’d placed his hand in my sleep.
At least I hadn’t done that again. I needed to maintain a shred of dignity after how I’d acted last night.
Lor shifted behind me, and I stiffened, then pushed myself up to a seated position as he blinked his eyes open. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, stretching his arms over his head and revealing a sliver of pale skin, dark hair leading down under the waistband of his trousers.
My gaze snapped back up to meet his, and I hoped he hadn’t just seen me gawking at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, holding out his hands. “You were drunk, and I was just trying to get you home safely. Castle is the one who led us here, and I wanted to stay by your side all night to make sure you were okay. You drank a lot.”
He was lying to me. I remembered grabbing his arm, pulling him down next to me. So why wasn’t he throwing that in my face? I immediately knew the answer: because Lor wasn’t petty, not like me.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, just wanting to get him out of here as soon as possible. I hated the way my body remembered the last time we were together like this, hated how my body seemed to crave his hand between my legs again.
Luckily my brain knew better.
Lor’s gaze swept around the small space. “Why would you sleep in here, Aoife?”
My defenses raised immediately. “What? Are you ashamed of having a queen who sleeps in such impoverished conditions?”
Something like sympathy flashed in his eyes, and instead of answering my question, he responded with one of his own. “Where did you sleep when you were a slave?”
“Not in a closet if that’s what you’re implying,” I said stiffly.
“No, I wouldn’t think so,” he murmured. “But you don’t like big spaces?” His brows furrowed like he was working out a difficult equation.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You know where I sleep. Not at Ambrose’s. Just here. In this closet. Thank you for helping me last night, but you can go now.”
His eyebrows shot up, his face so close to mine in this tiny room. A little crease lined his forehead from the way he’d fallen asleep. For some inexplicable reason, my hand itched to trace it.
“No,” he said, nostrils flaring.
“No?” I asked back. “This is my room, the only space in this entire castle I can claim as just mine, and you want to take it from me as well?” I huffed a laugh. “Unbelievable. Well if you won’t leave, then I will. I’ll have Castle make me another closet, one where you’ll never find me.”
I made to move, but Lor caught my hand in his, staring at me with this intensity in his dark brown eyes that I didn’t understand.
“Let go,” I said.
“No,” he said again, the vein above his temple bulging.
He tugged me back down next to him. “I’m sick of this, Aoife.
You’re my wife, and I know nothing about you.
I didn’t even know you’d been sleeping in a closet for two years, and now that I do know, you won’t tell me why.
” He let out a frustrated breath. “I’m not trying to get information out of you so I can destroy you.
I just want to know you. I want you to feel safe coming to me with information.
We might not be lovers, but the last few days have proven that we are capable of being in the same room, of talking, without having an argument. ”
“We’re arguing right now,” I said drily, even though his words surprised me. Or maybe it wasn’t the words themselves, but the sincerity behind them.
“If I tell you, will you leave?” I asked, and his face broke into a smile.
“Yes, Aoife, I’ll leave.”
I swallowed, my throat thick and my hands clammy.
I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous all of a sudden.
Maybe because I wasn’t used to telling Lor anything about myself or my past. Maybe because he was staring at me so intensely, I felt the burn of it.
Or maybe because I rarely opened up to anyone.
“When I was a slave,” I began, “we were forced to sleep in barracks together. One large room full of pallets.”
His gaze softened, and I hated the pity in it, not wanting to appear weak in his eyes because of this admission.
“We got used to sleeping together. I got used to it. And eventually, many of us chose to move outside on the castle grounds. We used our bedding and sticks to create tents, and we’d sleep in the tents with the families we’d formed.
Lovers, siblings, or just best friends. It wasn’t sexual,” I said.
“It was about community, closeness, all of us going to sleep hearing someone else’s breathing, knowing your loved one was safe and right next to you. ”
“I didn’t know,” he said. “None of the Fair Folk sleep in that kind of arrangement anymore.”
“I know.” The words came out as a growl. “A lot changed while I was a statue, it seems. My people have forgotten many of our ways over the last two thousand years.”
“But you haven’t,” he said, the words quiet, almost like they weren’t meant for my ears.
“Well, we’re even now,” I said before he could ask any other questions. “I saved your life and you helped me in a bad situation.”
He snorted. “I hardly think we’re even. But I do think that we’re getting along. That’s something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
He smiled, lines forming around his mouth. All these little things I’d never noticed about him before, that I’d never been close enough to notice. “Too late. I already am getting used to it, and I think maybe I’m finally starting to understand you.”
“From one little story?” I asked, feeling so bare in front of him. I crossed my arms. “I don’t think so.”
“Your Majesty,” a voice called from the hallway. Margaret. I’d refused to let her have a painting in my room, but I did concede to her having one in the hallway where I could still hear her should she need me for something.
“Yes,” we both yelled, and I shot Lor a withering glare. Now the biggest gossip in the castle would know Lor had spent the night in my room.
“We’re husband and wife, Aoife,” Lor said like he could read my mind. “It’s hardly scandalous that we’re sleeping together.”
His words sent a strange thrill through me, but I shoved it away.
“Yes, Margaret?” I asked. “You may speak plainly.”
“Y-yes, of course. I just wasn’t expecting . . . well, anyway, I’m glad you’re both here. That makes this easier.”
“Makes what easier?” Lor asked, his tone impatient, and for once, I didn’t mind it.
I wanted to know what was happening too.
“Ronan is gone. He escaped early this morning.”
An icy dread filled me. No. No no no no.
“Thank you, Margaret,” Lor said, voice stiff, and I looked at him, everything else forgotten as I took hold of his shoulders.
“We have to go after him.”
“No we don’t,” he said. “It’s too risky.”
“He’s going to find the brotherhood and tell them exactly where we are.”
Lor scrubbed a hand down his face. “I know, I know. I just don’t want to do anything rash. If we go after him, it could be a trap. The brotherhood could already be waiting for us.”
I flung out my arm toward the round window that gave view of the sprawling forest top. “Good, then we’ll kill them and be done with it.”
“Aoife, I know you want to free your people—”
“I don’t think you do know. Sometimes I think you just want more people to rule over, to command.”
The words were unfair and not even true, but I’d wanted to hurt him, and I’d succeeded.
He reared back, face stricken. “How could you think that about me?”
I crossed my arms. “Like you said, we barely know anything about each other.”
He sighed and moved toward the door, hunching over and opening it. He paused in the doorway, his back to me as he said, “If you ever need someone to sleep next to, I’m here, Aoife. I’ll sleep by your side in this closet every night if that’s what you need.”
And then he was gone.