Chapter 11 #4
Kael nodded. “That’s settled, then. We go for the supply train.” He went on to issue the appropriate orders, making sure everybody knew what they had to do. He let the map roll up, signaling the end.
The room emptied quickly, people pairing off or drifting away. Rather casually, Kael moved over to Maven. “Join me for a moment in my chamber, will you?” and left without looking back. Maven lingered, glanced at Alina, and then left with Tamsin, murmuring in low, urgent tones.
Alina felt the chill of Elara’s gaze before she turned. The witch stood in the corner, eyes wide and unblinking, as if she’d been watching not the meeting, but something beyond.
“You did well,” Elara said, and her voice was neither warm nor cold—just even and steady. “But trust is like a knife. It cuts both ways.”
Alina nodded, not trusting herself to answer.
Elara smiled, a twist of the lips. “We’ll see which edge you choose.”
She vanished, leaving only the echo of her words and the faint, not-unpleasant smell of ozone.
Alina lingered, upset by Maven’s hostility.
She knew that there were many members of the group who did not approve of her or mistrusted her or were simply unsure about her.
But to have someone tell you he would prefer you dead than alive?
That was unsettling. At last, the torches sputtered low, prompting her to gather her thoughts and leave.
The Caves were silent, the path to her cell empty and dark.
The silence of her room pressed in on Alina, thicker than the quilt she’d pulled around her shoulders.
She sat upright on the edge of the bed, stood, and paced a five-step line across the stone floor and back, again and again.
The room was suffocatingly small, the corners shadow-choked and cold even with the dying ember of a candle guttering on the battered washstand.
She’d tried lying down, willing herself to slip back into the fragile warmth that the bed had offered, but the effort only made her mind race faster.
She retraced her path until her heel caught on a loose stone, the sudden scrape echoing like a reprimand.
The day’s events tangled inside her chest: the ugly, sour memory of Maven’s accusations of betrayal, his warning that her presence would lead to the ruin of everyone she cared for.
She knew that many people did not want her here; that many mistrusted her and some simply did not know what to make of her.
But he radiated a hatred that was hard to take.
And yet again, she now measured all the rebels’ actions and attitudes toward her before the backdrop of what she had learned in the safehouse.
How could she blame them for distrusting her?
For even hating her? She stood for everything that was bad in the world.
How could they ever look at her and not see the Crown?
It was a pit she could not climb out of. Her thoughts repeated themselves in endless circles, never leading to a solution. Finally, she stopped her pacing, pressed her palm to the cold wall, and closed her eyes, desperate for a moment of peace.
None came.
Sighing, she gave up, grabbed a thick woolen shawl from the bed, and stalked toward the door. To go where, she had no idea. She yanked it open and froze.
Kael was there. He leaned against the wall opposite her door, arms folded, ankle propped casually over the other, as if he’d been waiting for her to emerge all along.
The torch above his head was nearly spent, bathing his face in ochre.
The rest of him was lost to shadow, a mythic creature half-conjured by the fire and half by her own expectation.
They looked at each other in silence. As always, he looked so composed, his beauty—and there really was no other word for it—not dampened a bit by the patched-up clothing he wore.
The same could not apply to her, with her messy braid sagging over her shoulder, oversized shirt, tucked under the red-and-blue plaid shawl knotted at her throat.
She opened her mouth to say something—what, she didn’t know. He beat her to it.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Kael’s voice was low, but it filled the corridor like a river at flood, impossible to ignore.
“No. The meeting was rather intense. Especially with Maven suggesting I'd make a lovely parcel for the royal courier service. Nothing says 'thinking of you’ like your daughter's corpse.”
He nodded, a hint of amusement breaking through his concern. “War councils tend to linger.”
Alina moved closer, until they were only a few feet apart. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself for warmth. “How long have you been standing there? Don’t tell me you’re my new door ornament.”
He shrugged, chin dropping. “Long enough to calculate the exact number of times you'd pace that floor before giving up.”
There was a weight to that, as if he'd predicted not just her restlessness, but her need for company, for witness.
She shifted her weight, pleasantly surprised at the implication. “You could have knocked.”
He smiled, a little ruefully. “And say what? 'Pardon me, Princess, just checking if insomnia is contagious’?”
She snorted, then, surprising herself with the sound. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
He considered that, then straightened, pushing off the wall with a smoothness that reminded her of a panther uncoiling to stalk. He crossed the space between them in two steps. “Because of all the usual reasons,” he said, “and maybe one more.”
He waited, giving her the option to retreat, to dismiss him or return to her solitude.
Instead, Alina met his gaze, let her shield drop and scraped together her courage. “Will you… come inside?” The words felt thick, as if they’d never graced her tongue before.
He said nothing, eyes blazing, and followed her into the tiny guest chamber.
It was even smaller with him inside. Kael surveyed the space with a glance—the single cot, the battered table, the washstand, and candle stub—then seated himself on the edge of the bed, back to the wall.
He left her the other half, a clear invitation, and watched as she hesitated on the threshold before giving in and perching beside him.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the slow, twin rhythm of their breathing and the faint hiss of melting wax.
Alina cleared her throat, then drew up her knees, wrapping the shawl tighter. “Why does Maven hate me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I know why…but why does he hate me so much more than the others do?”
Kael raked a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “He’s afraid. Fear makes people sharp, and sometimes cruel.”
She stared down at her knees. “But what if he’s right? What if my being here does get people killed? I never asked to be a part of this. I never wanted to fight anyone. I don’t even know what I am, let alone what I’m supposed to become.”
Kael let her words hang in the air, then answered without rush. “That’s more honest than most leaders I’ve known.”
She looked at him, and found his golden gaze on her. She searched his face for irony. There was none.
He went on. “Do you want to hear a secret?”
She blinked, then nodded.
“My first winter here, I was asked to lead a raid. I was seventeen. I’d only ever fought in drills, never for real. The people we went after were better trained, better armed. We lost the fight, and two good men with it. I ran, at the end. I left the others, and I hid in a ditch until it was over.”
He stopped, letting the admission settle between them.
Alina was silent, shocked. She had never imagined him as anything but unbreakable.
He was still holding her gaze, gold eyes darkened by the flicker of candle.
“I still have nightmares about that night. About what it means to be responsible for lives you can’t save.
” He reached, slowly, and put his hand over hers, clenched in her lap.
His palm was rough and callused, but still gentle.
His long fingers stroked her hand, much as he had done on the evening of the Festival of Lights.
“You’re not alone in this, Alina. You’re just awake enough to know what’s at stake. ”
The touch was an anchor. She unclenched her fist and turned her hand so their fingers interlocked. The sensation was more real than anything else in the room.
He squeezed, then leaned in, the barest fraction. “Do you regret your decision? Of fighting with us? With me?”
Alina’s breath caught. The thought of her old life…
a few weeks ago, she would have said yes, in a heartbeat.
But now she thought of the festival, of the children in the village square, the candles she’d set in the wall, the taste of spiced wine and the warmth of Kael’s hand.
“No,” she said, with a certainty that startled even her.
Kael nodded, once. “Good.”
They sat, the silence softer now, but charged with a hyper-awareness of each other’s bodies.
Their thighs touched and this time, Alina was quite sure it wasn’t by accident.
She studied their joined hands and the way his thumb traced gentle arcs over her skin.
A surge of heat flooded her, equal parts comfort and something entirely different.
She looked up, and again found him watching her—not as a commander, but as a man on the edge of longing for something he’d forbidden himself from wanting for too long. His eyes were dark, like molten gold.
He did not move. “Do you always have to be so careful?” she asked, the words a dare and a plea at the same time.
He smiled that crooked smile that was seemingly reserved for her alone. “Only with you.”
The distance between them was nothing. Kael reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear with an intimacy that made her shiver.
His hand lingered, cupping her jaw. Excitement shot through her, a pull toward him she was unable to resist. She tilted her face into his palm, savoring the feel of his touch on her skin.
Her eyes fluttered shut, overcome by the tenderness Kael showed her.
He bent, slow enough for her to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
All she wanted was to feel him, and more of it.
His lips touched hers, once, feather light. Then again, firmer, the taste of him sweet and electric. She melted into it, hands coming up to his shoulders, then neck, pulling him closer. Desire bloomed in her belly.
The kiss deepened and his hands slid to her waist, hers threading into his hair.
He inhaled deeply and tugged her onto his lap, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.
Alina forgot the world—forgot herself even, lost in the impossible fact of their bodies pressed together on the narrow bed, the candle flickering a foot away.
The universe, as wide and vast as it was, shrank down to the space between her lips and his.
She wanted more. She parted her lips wider, inviting him, and he answered with a hunger that surprised them both.
He growled deep in his throat as his hand slid beneath the rough hem of her shirt, palm splaying over the bare small of her back.
His touch was hot enough to burn away any lingering doubt.
The ball of heat in her belly dropped much, much lower.
She straddled his thighs, feeling the strong muscles beneath her, her own body pulsing with need.
It propelled her forward, relentlessly, to feel more of him, taste more of him, have him closer.
His hand roamed her back, up and down, leaving a trail of sparks behind. He tucked her closer, pressing her to him. She could feel the evidence of just how much he wanted her through the layers of their clothing.
He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, forehead pressed to hers. “Alina,” he said, opening his mouth to say more.
A mighty crash and loud rumble came from the corridor, followed by shouts and the sound of falling stones and debris.
He was up instantly, hand to his dagger, all trace of gentleness replaced by the sharp, cold focus of command. He paused only to look at her, eyes wide with apology and promise.
“Stay here,” he said and was gone before Alina could even blink, the warmth of him ripped away from her. The candle’s glow felt suddenly cruel in the empty room.
Alina sat there, her chest heaving, skin thrumming. She was still engulfed by the smell of him, her heart more exposed than it had ever been. She had no idea where all of this would lead to, but she knew one thing: she would follow him anywhere. Even into the dark.