Chapter 14 #2
“It was a dream I’d forgotten about until I heard of the woman with the amethyst eyes in that tavern.
” Sighing, she released my hand. “You were maybe ten years old when it came to me. In it, I was in the woods. They were alive, almost like this garden. The magvis was there, with white hair and those colorful eyes.”
I waited for more, but that was all. “Did she say anything?”
She lifted a shoulder. “She might have, but it was so long ago, all I remember is how she looked. That, and the fact that those woods were alive and vibrant—just like they were before the Domus appeared.”
“Before the dream, did you know what the magvis looked like?”
“I’d heard the descriptions.”
“So this dream could have meant nothing. Your imagination could have built it all on its own, and yet you took it as a sign of something.”
I wasn’t questioning her because I didn’t believe her. Merelda may have omitted that dream earlier, but she would never outright lie to me. I just wanted to understand.
“There was a feeling I’d gotten when I woke up from that dream and saw you in the morning.
I’d ignored it at the time, thinking I was rattled.
But between your sudden disappearance and how we were being hunted, I was reminded of that feeling.
And it suddenly didn’t seem like a far leap to imagine you were the magvis beside Princeps Harthon.
” Her cheek slowly creased. “Which brings us to all we have to discuss regarding that man.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
She hummed to herself. “Callen?”
Callen pursed his lips. “I have made promises to Etarla that must be kept.”
Thank the Domus.
But then he winked, encouraging her right along. The traitor.
Merelda chuckled. “Where should we start? With his physique? That jaw that’s carved from stone? His chivalry last—”
“My goodness, please stop.”
“Your silence is forcing me to list these options.”
I shook my head at her in exasperated wonder. “You have never bothered me about men. Not once. Why are you torturing me now?”
She gave me a droll look. “Dear, the only men you’d ever encountered were the old, rundown dogs in our village, and never once did you express any interest in romance.
When I educated you about the things men and women do together, in case you needed to know someday, you covered your ears and ran away squealing. ”
Callen burst into laughter.
I glared at him. “And how would you react if you were twelve years old, being told about the appendage a man sticks into a woman?”
“I was never told. I learned through experience.” He smugly set his shoulders. “Quite a bit of experience, if I do say so myself.”
“Merelda is right here. We don’t need the details.”
“My point being,” Merelda interjected, trying to hide her amusement, “I never bothered you about men because it was irrelevant. But now, that is no longer the case.” She suddenly sobered. “Is he treating you well?”
“Yes,” I answered easily.
“Has he been treating you well this entire time?”
There was nothing linear about the relationship between me and Harthon. He’d taken me captive, and I’d despised him for it; I’d learned about his past with my parents, I’d run away to Koerlyn, and things had been rocky from then on. Until recently, of course. Because now things were…undefined.
But despite all that, all the ups and downs and switchbacks, never once had he treated me poorly. Even when he was angry at me and scared over what I’d done, he’d ensured I was taken care of.
So I said, “Yes.”
She nodded once, relief relaxing the lines of her face. “You look well-fed. Strong.”
I wasn’t going to tell her I’d just finished healing from a recent attack. She didn’t need that worry. “I get more than my fair share of food. And I’ve been training.”
“I wouldn’t mind training with a man like that.”
“I don’t train with him. I train with Callen.”
Merelda regarded the green-eyed man. “I wouldn’t mind training with him either.”
Callen flashed a boyish grin. “If only Etarla appreciated me as much as you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Have you told Harthon how you feel?” Merelda asked.
Such a simple question, yet it made me so uncomfortable.
I was intensely attracted to him, and I was allowing him to tug at the flouncy emotions that lived in my chest. But it was too soon to define those emotions, and I…I needed to know what he was thinking first.
Like that would ever happen.
The man was a vault.
Instead of sharing that, I countered, “Would you be happy if I was at his side? Princeps Harthon. A man with so much blood on his hands.” Not that I’d thought once about her approval when it came to me and him, but now that she was here and knew him, it mattered.
She answered my question with one of her own. “Is that what you know him as?”
“Of course not.”
“And what do you know him as?”
“A good man.”
She raised her brows in a request for more.
I sucked in a breath, looking to the sky.
“He’s clever and strategic. Ruthless in punishing those who are guilty.
Intentionally intimidating to those who don’t know him.
Bloodthirsty and deadly in battle. But at the same time, he is good—to his people, his friends, to me.
He wants to save this world, to lift us all out of our suffering. ”
I glanced over to find Merelda’s brows were still at her hairline. Skies, she wasn’t letting me off easy.
“He…he’s opened my eyes to some things. Lots of things,” I corrected.
“And he gives me strength. Makes me see my own, believes in my ability to use it. This whole thing started with him forcing me into this role, but I realize now, that in doing so, he was forcing me to grow. Into someone better. More capable.”
“Not someone better,” Merelda corrected. Her tone was stern. “You were always this Etarla. He’s only given you access to the world you needed to embrace it.”
I bit my lip, considering that perspective. Maybe she was right. Or maybe she saw something in me that wasn’t really there. She was biased, after all.
A breeze washed through the garden, and I scanned the greenery for the colorful flash of butterfly wings. I’d been hoping the blue one from the other day would appear again so Merelda could see it, but there were no iridescent wings in sight.
“How are his kisses?”
I choked on my saliva. “I love you, but we are not having this conversation.”
Reminding me he was there, eavesdropping on this entire conversation, Callen whined, “But what if I want to know, too?”
“You’re friends with Harthon. Why don’t you ask him?”
He snorted. “Why don’t I just drive a dagger through my own heart while I’m at it? Harthon has always been private when it comes to women. He doesn’t share details. Never has.”
My eyes widened, my mind zeroing in on one word, and one word only.
Women, plural.
As in, not just Ana.
Realizing his mistake, Callen quickly added, “Not that he’s been with a lot of women.
Well, not these days. Back in the day, he relieved his stress differently…
” Trailing off, he cringed. “Really, it’s been none at all recently, except for, well, you.
He hasn’t had time for others. Not that time is what’s stopping him—I’m going to shut up now. ”
A surge of jealousy hit.
Which was ridiculous. I always knew a man like Harthon would have women crawling into his bed. No one could blame him for taking part, especially when he wasn’t beholden to anyone.
And yet, my gut soured.
Probably because he’d just rubbed in my face that what Harthon had done to me last night, he’d done with others.
But somehow, Merelda found no issue with the information, because she cheekily said, “Well, it only means he has a wealth of experience to pull from. An advantage, if you ask me.”