Chapter 4 #2
A brief silence hung. I stared up at the stars through the trees.
I heard him, then felt him lie down next to me.
There wasn't room. I should move, but where?
I'd need to turn on my side, but was it worse if I rolled towards or away from him?
Towards was worse, I decided, in a silent panic, as I rolled towards him.
The instinct to not turn my back on a possible aggressor was strong, but this just brought…
everything in contact, like I had been ladled onto him, just poured against him, and I was never going to get used to the no-shirt thing, and-
"This is nice," he said quietly. I peeked my eyes open, just saw the side of his jaw, his ear pointing into his short-cropped hair.
I was glued against him from his shoulder down to his hip, marinating in my own ridiculous shame, but his eyes were on the sky.
He swallowed. "I hadn't known how to go about this.
I didn't want…to make you uncomfortable. "
I almost choked out a laugh, sealed it back behind my lips, all but a ragged breath. My nose was inches from his arm, and the back of his hand rested against my thigh.
I should be prepared for this. I was acting like he hadn't cleaved me open already, as if he hadn't already seen all of me.
What was this blushing and cringing for?
I was no maiden. It was warmer here, under the blanket.
So what if his hands might start exploring later?
So what if at some point he thought the others were asleep and wanted to try again?
At least it would be over afterwards. I already smelled like woodsmoke and blood and fear and days on the road; what would it matter if I also smelled like him?
All of them already thought he was taking me in the dark.
I didn't even know why he wasn't. If he was shy, that was a mercy; let him stay shy.
I flinched at that thought- at the thought of hurting him, of him hurting, further cringed as curling in on myself just changed the way he was touching me, curling into more contact with his arm, his hand, his shoulder brushing my forehead till I just…
gave up, let myself press against him. His skin was cooler than I expected it to be.
I couldn't see his face. He couldn't see mine. Small mercies.
"I keep thinking," he murmured, "that I shouldn't move, or I'll wake up, and you'll fly away." He was speaking the Ka Morth again. This was the most practice I'd had in my life.
"There's nowhere to fly," I said back, my own voice another whisper. "I am your wife."
"I know. It just doesn't seem real." I could feel his breathing, rhythmic and steady, and if I concentrated, the beating of his heart. "You were an idea until three days ago, and I don't think I let myself hope this far. Not like this."
I'd never thought of being something to hope for. I'd imagined our joining before as being a right he claimed, maybe as some primal demand, but not a hope.
"What part of this…is surprising?" I whispered, felt chastisement spread its heat across my face, in the night. "I just…want to understand."
His breathing slowed. "I had hoped that in time you would come not to hate me. That's as far as I let myself imagine." He turned, looked down. "I did not let myself hope that you would want me, too."
I glanced up, shock freezing me. I was arrested by his gaze.
"You are…better at boldness than I am. I am still learning. But if you will be patient a little longer, while you lead us both, I know I will catch up with you. Rowena."
My mind was breaking. This was the most ridiculous interpretation of the last few days, and I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. “You think too much of me, my lord.”
“‘My lord?’ What is that?” He shifted to look down. “We are not liege and chattel. We are bound to each other.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled out, closing my eyes again. “I suppose I am still rather human.”
He pulled away, and my eyes opened. He’d rolled to face me, and his hand touched my cheek, my hair. "We’ll grow bold together,” he said. “Together.” His face rested on my hair.
I wasn’t glued against him anymore, just the heat between us, his fingers in my hair, on the back of my neck. “Together,” I murmured. We lay there in the dark, listening to each other’s breath.
“...Khal?” I whispered. “Are you awake?”
His breath brushed my forehead. “Yes.”
I swallowed. I was not good with words. I’d never had to be. Never gotten to be. But he deserved something. He deserved… “You’re a kind person,” I whispered into the dark. “You deserve someone to be kind to you. Someone who wants you back.”
He let out a huff of air. “I don’t think you can deserve a person. I think they want you, or they don’t. But…”
A shiver traveled down my spine, as his fingertips brushed the nape of my neck.
“I’m glad we chose each other."
I watched the stars long after his breathing deepened into sleep.
It had never occurred to me that Khal might be hurt by me running away.
Enraged, yes. Made dangerous, probably. But not hurt.
Because orcs that bought girls like we were sheep and dragged us into bedrooms in our fathers’ castles could be angry and dangerous and malevolent, but they didn’t deserve, and they didn’t hurt.
And Khal did both of those things, whatever he believed.
But him being deserving of good things couldn't be a chain that bound me here.
I needed freedom. I had searched and fought half my life for it.
And with our deceptions- my people's deceptions- only resentment could grow between us even if I stayed trapped with him, a lifetime paying the penalty for a lie.
I looked at his face, relaxed in sleep in the banked coals' glow. He seemed so much younger, more vulnerable now, like someone I wanted to protect. He deserved better than this. Better than me. And he'll find it, I told myself. I just have to get out of the way.
I told myself that. But I fell asleep listening to his breathing, feeling the warmth of him radiating off the blanket. And I woke to find myself cradled in his arms.