Chapter 35
Lor
Ahand shook me awake, and I jolted up in Aoife’s bed, almost hitting my head on the rafters. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, looking out the window to see the dark sky, the moon, the stars.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning toward Aoife. “What’s happened?”
She bit her lip, her hands in her lap, looking uncharacteristically bashful.
My gaze traveled the length of her body.
She’d started leaving the door unlocked for me every night, and she was usually sleeping, buried under her blanket, by the time I arrived.
But now, with her sitting up like this, I took in the silky blue nightgown, the fabric so thin, the straps clinging to her shoulders, and the neckline plunging to show her cleavage.
Fuck.
After that night we’d slept next to each other in the tent, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without her in my arms again.
The change had been so sudden, so unexpected, but I found myself there in front of her door, knocking and hoping she’d answer.
Every night since I’d slept with my wife cradled in my arms. Nothing more had happened between us, and I wouldn’t push it.
I’d wait for Aoife to show me that she wanted more, and if she never wanted more, then so be it.
I’d continue sleeping next to her, holding her in my arms, as long as she wanted.
“Nothing is wrong,” Aoife said. “I—there’s something I wanted to show you.”
“In the middle of the night?” I asked, quirking a brow.
She huffed, and I smiled at the change, her bashfulness now gone and replaced by her usual prickly self. “Stop looking so bloody alarmed. I’m not planning on murdering you. I just want to show you something.”
I was fully awake now, intrigued by my wife, by whatever it was she wanted to share with me. “Okay,” I said. “Then let’s go.”
* * *
It took twenty minutes to walk to the opposite end of the castle and up the tall west tower. I rarely visited this part of the castle. The servants’ quarters were down below, and the tower above their quarters used to be a watch tower in the time of Fairwitch, but we no longer needed it.
We arrived at the top of the tower, my heart pounding, my breathing labored after the long walk up the spiral stairs.
“I haven’t been here in a long time,” Aoife said as she walked toward the stone wall that encircled the top.
From up here, it felt like we might very well be part of the night sky, able to reach out and touch the stars.
She turned to me and leaned against the wall, goosebumps pebbling her arms as a brisk breeze blew past us. “I’d sneak up here at night to get fresh air and to clear my head. Sometimes I’d speak to the sky.”
“Speak to the sky?” I echoed.
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger.
“I’d ask the stars to watch over me, to guide me like they so often guide sailors or travelers.
I can’t say they listened, but it felt nice just being able to talk and get all my feelings out.
I always felt bravest up here, at the top of the world, like I could admit my deepest, darkest secrets, my biggest truths. ”
“You never had anyone to talk to?” That sounded so incredibly lonely and sad.
She gave the smallest shake of her head, face tilted up toward the stars, the silver moon painting her features in its light.
“I suppose maybe there were people I could talk to, but it was never easy for me to open up like that. To share that vulnerable part of myself. Like if I gave anyone too much, they’d own too much of me. ”
Yet here she was, sharing this. Choosing to show this. To me.
I stepped forward, peering at Aoife, drinking up these little pieces of her life like a parched man. “Why are you telling me this?”
She tilted her head, gazing at the stars surrounding us. “Because I wanted to. We’re two weeks away from one of us having to cede our crown.”
A lump formed in my throat at the reminder.
Aoife met my gaze, her golden eyes swimming with an emotion I didn’t understand. “But maybe you were right. Maybe we can be partners. Maybe we don’t have to fight anymore.”
So that was her truth; that was what she’d wanted to tell me. And she’d brought me up here to do it.
“I’d like that,” I said quietly. “I’d like it very much.” I joined her and leaned against the stone wall, tipping my head up toward the sky. “That painting was mine,” I admitted.
I felt her gaze land on me. “What?”
“Those scrolls Leena gave me. They were paintings I’d done.”
“You can paint?” she asked. “But why are you telling me this?”
“You shared a secret, so I guess it’s my turn to share one.”
We turned toward each other, Aoife searching my face like she was trying to find answers. “Why is it a secret that you paint?”
“It’s not exactly. Well it was. From my former mentor, Arthon.”
Something feral and angry flashed across her face at the mention of him, but it was gone before I could think too much of it.
“He didn’t like anything that swayed my focus.
He wanted me to work hard, to keep my eyes on the ultimate goal of destroying the brotherhood.
Painting had nothing to do with that, nothing to do with being the rebel leader he was mentoring me to be.
So I did it in secret. I’ve always liked to draw, to express myself through creativity.
But he found my stash of supplies and burned them all.
Except those scrolls that I’d given Leena.
I stopped after that, and I guess it’s seemed like a waste of time and resources when I have so much responsibility on my shoulders.
But Leena giving me those scrolls reminded me how much I miss it. ”
“So why don’t you start again?” Aoife asked. “No one is stopping you.”
“I don’t know where I’d get the supplies,” I said. “We don’t have any of those resources here. Or maybe we do have the resources, but I don’t have the time to figure it all out.”
You’re a waste of my time. A waste of space. I could tell you’d been distracted lately, unfocused, and now I know why. Because you wanted to paint. That’s more important than overthrowing the brotherhood?
I pushed the voice away. “So I just . . . stopped,” I continued. “But it was how I got my feelings out, how I cleared my head when I needed a break.”
“Then it’s not a waste of time,” she said. “Everyone needs a reprieve from their responsibilities. Everyone needs time for themselves. And you deserve that.”
I wanted to believe her, but it was so hard turning off that voice in my head that said I didn’t deserve anything, that I had to hold myself to a higher standard than everyone else. That was my weight to bear, the path I chose when I accepted this crown.
A small smile quirked her lips. “So is this a truce, then, Lorcan Wolfgang? Are we putting aside that edict by Castle?”
“I think so,” I said, stepping forward, loving the little sharp intake of breath that escaped her. It emboldened me as my lips dipped toward hers. “Should we shake on it?” I whispered.
She swallowed thickly, licking her lips. “Yes,” she stammered, eyes flicking to my lips. “Let’s do that.”
I lingered there but didn’t make a move to kiss her. Not yet. She was coming around, but I still wasn’t sure if crossing that line would scare her away. So instead I stuck out my hand, and she grasped it with hers, her eyes dark and full of something I recognized: desire.
I knew I was developing feelings for my wife, and I was starting to think she might finally be catching up.