Chapter 17 #2
When we reached the city center, other servants and knights from the palace joined us.
Dricus’s people. I even recognized Cedric.
He found Mirabel in the crowd at once and would not let her be alone even for a moment.
She blushed at every brush of his hand, and he looked at her as if she were a treasure. It pleased me.
The evening promised to be fair. We drank in the streets, we ate, we laughed. I did everything to forget what had passed between Dricus and me. It was awkward, but with each drink it grew easier.
We followed the music to a raised stage before a tavern, where players worked lute, pipe, and drums. People danced, clapping and stamping in time. Tables stood out upon the street, and keepers carried ale and roasted meats. The air smelled of spice, smoke, and the sweat of a merry crowd.
Brenn and I even tried to find a girl for Kael. In truth, we did poorly. The boy was fair to look upon, but he had no idea how to speak with women.
It was my turn to fetch ale. While getting through the throng I noticed a long loud table across the yard, crowded with bottles and laughs. I knew the faces there.
The sons of the lords from the palace were having a great time. Laughing, shouting and having town girls sitting on their laps, delighted by their frolics with the nobles.
I knew whom I would find in the center.
Aidenar sat laughing with his companions. A dark-haired girl with a large bust just toppled into his lap and flung her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear.
I will not say my heart broke. Nothing bound me to the young Cavareth. Yet a sharp little pain, a sorrow, and a spark of frustration rose, hard to bear. Especially remembering the way he was looking at me recently. Annoyed, I turned at once and went to the bar.
As I waited for the innkeeper to draw the ale, I dwelt on my own foolishness. Why had I allowed myself even a slice of feelings toward Cavareth? What was I thinking? Having feelings for Regent’s son… And still, the anger simmered in me.
“This is on me,” I heard at my shoulder. Coins rang upon the counter. I wanted to refuse the offer, but the innkeeper had taken the coins quickly and gone about his work.
I turned my head and saw him.
Aidenar. He stood beside me, as insolent as ever, carrying that shameless aura. He said nothing. He only measured me with his eyes, as if every inch of me already belonged to him.
I knew I looked different than I did at our meetings: tight trousers, skimpy leather vest, skin glowing from dancing, cheeks warmed by the drinks, stray locks escaping my ponytail.
He was drunk as well. His white shirt hung open, sleeves rolled to show the cord of his forearms, silver eyes a little unfocused, hair in disarray.
I’d just been angry and jealous of him and now I couldn’t stop thinking about touching him.
Why on earth was he making me feel this way?
Why was controlling myself in this City was so hard?
“Why do you not dress like that when we meet?” he asked, wearing that provoking smile.
“Maybe because you do not deserve it,” I said, sharp. “So, are you bored with your friend already?”
I couldn’t hide the jealousy. The ale had set it alight. He paused, realizing I had seen him earlier. He laughed softly.
“A girl trying to sit on me does not mean I will let her stay there,” he said, his gaze steady upon me.
I snorted. “Maybe you are exactly as they say.”
He leaned closer to me. “Or perhaps I would like someone else sitting on me” he whispered, with such brazen heat that I shivered.
“What is it now, another wager to bed the island girl?” I said before I could stop myself.
This time his face grew grave. The press of bodies thickened. Someone shoved us, and he used the moment to come closer. His hand found my waist, he grabbed me firmly as to protect me from the crowd. At his touch my heart flew to my throat.
“No one in the palace may touch you,” he whispered against my ear. “I have made certain of it. No one will harm you.”
He startled me. I drew back and stared wide at him.
“And what if I wish to be touched?” I said, more in defiance than in desire. “Will you stand guard over my body?”
His smile returned to his lips—triumphant, maddening. “I am sorry, but you will have to remain a good girl. Unless…” He gently licked his lips while saying that.
We stood so close to each other that our faces were almost touching. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. A shiver went through my body and I was afraid my legs were going to fail me. I contained myself at last.
“Save it for your playthings,” I said with open disdain. I took the foaming mugs and left without looking back. But I felt his gaze on my back for a long while.
Drinks crept over me, and weariness from dancing at last claimed its due. I sat near Dricus and listened to one of his men tell of battles in the south and the strange women who tried to bewitch him. I wept with laughter until my cheeks ached.
Still, I breathed in Dricus’s scent, heavy and soothing at once. Smoke, wood, and something I could not name.
I lifted my eyes and watched the hard line of his jaw, the deep green of his gaze, the unreadable expression that lent him gravity. But Dricus was avoiding me. My gaze, my touch. So that was it. Nothing more.
As I laughed at another tale, I did not know why, but some part of me drew my glance across the yard to the nobles’ table. My hidden thoughts pulled me toward him. Toward that arrogant, insufferable, possessive prick.
I watched as girl after girl circled the lords’ table.
They poured wine for Aidenar, smiled at him, touched his body.
He seemed entirely in his element. Always the center of attention, always in command.
He found my gaze and stared back with challenge in his eyes.
As if I should come to him and join the line of admirers. He would be disappointed.
But here I sat. Between a man who had rejected me and a palace rake.
Fuck that. Fuck Dricus. Fuck Aidenar. I had enough.
I walked toward the bar, and on the way I spotted a handsome, broad-shouldered man with brown hair. Without thinking much, my body given over to emotion and ale, I caught his gaze as I passed. My hair and hand brushed his body.
As I continued to push through the crowd, I felt a gentle hand stopped me. It was the same man. He pulled me close, and our bodies began to move rhythmically together. We danced to the music. I felt his hands start to roam slowly across my body. I felt my skin heat beneath his masculine touch.
I kept my hand at the nape of his neck while he slowly closed his palms around my waist. I let myself be carried by the music and desire. This was what I needed. Something uncomplicated. Something that meant nothing. I had every right. I owed nothing to anyone.
Then suddenly shouts rang across the hall.
Bottles and mugs began to fly at the nobles’ table.
A brawl erupted. Tables crashed. The crowd roared, and the players’ music broke off.
Chaos spread across the yard like fire. The man I had been dancing with released me from his embrace and began shouting toward his friends, who appeared to be part of the fight with the nobles.
Mayhem blazed in full force.
I saw Aidenar cutting the crowd like a blade towards us, murder carved into his expression.
The man I was with moved to strike him, but Aidenar crushed his face with one fast, almost unnatural blow. He hit the ground, and his companions rushed to help him.
Aidenar stood there. Blood dripped from his fist. His white shirt bore red stains. He looked as though he might kill everyone in the yard.
Chaos raged around us, but I heard only him.
“How many?” He stepped closer, his eyes dark as lead.
“How many men?” He took another step towards me until we stood face to face. He searched every part of my face. As if seeking answers to all his questions in my eyes.
I could not stop staring at him. Could not move. Could not breathe.
“Until you realize there is only me.”
I knew it then. I was losing myself.