Chapter 29 #2
“I’m aware, thanks,” Brynn snaps and his fingers cease their tapping. “Hags view mixed blood as sacrilegious. I might as well be dirt to them, despite being a prince. They ignore my kind completely.”
“Sorry,” I say, “I didn’t mean to—”
“Do not apologize to me,” he orders, squeezing my waist. The touch coupled with his timbre sends a powerful ripple through me. “I’m the one who should apologize—I’m just tired.”
“You can sleep, if you want. I’m not sure I can catch you if you start to fall from Shadow, though,” I say, my feeble attempt at levity sounding strained.
Brynn’s hand leaves my hip to gently pull my untamed hair back, pushing it to the opposite side. He rests his chin atop my bare shoulder. Oh yeah, literal. He took my jest as an invitation. I try to relax my aching body, hoping he reads my stiff movements as nothing more than casual.
“I can’t sleep. But falling would be worth the risk,” he says near my ear, quickening my pulse. After a tense pause, he adds, “Perhaps I overreacted.”
“About what?” I breathe, turning my face toward his voice. He’s so close that his lips practically brush my cheek.
“I find myself very protective of you. Perhaps excessively so,” he confesses. “I don’t much like the idea of shadow hags entering your mind. And I had a lot of time to sit on it and stew this morning while everyone slept.”
“Why?” I ask.
He lifts his chin from my shoulder and chuckles humorlessly into my skin. “Friendship, I suppose.”
The caustic way in which he articulates the word friendship has me biting my tongue.
Perhaps it’s never been only lust—or maybe it’s simply evolved.
And now… I’m not sure what it is. But I know it’s no longer simple.
Last night, I decided I dare not cross that line, burn that bridge.
It will hurt him worse if he discovers who I am.
I will be unforgivable. And I cannot afford to lose his alliance.
Not yet. To return home—to fix my more pressing messes—I need him.
Brynn finds resolve in my silence. When I do not respond, he rests his warm cheek against my shoulder and begins to wrap his arms around my waist. I flinch at the movement and he draws back at once.
“I—sorry—I got too comfortable,” Brynn sputters. I hear the chagrin in his voice. “Lost my head.”
“No—it’s just—” I start, twisting in the saddle to look at him. Shooting pain barrels up my spine and I nearly cry out. I try again through gritted teeth, “I think I ruined my back jumping off Moon yesterday… twice.”
“May I?” Brynn asks, his fingers already at the hem of my tunic. I nod and he lifts it. He lets out a deep whistle at the sight of my lower back. “Ouch.”
“How bad is it?” I ask stiffly.
“Do all mortals bruise like this? I’m not sure I’ve seen a bruise so purple. You look like a faeplum,” he quips, voice low.
“Very funny. How big is it?”
He snorts a laugh. Poor choice of words.
Brynn’s finger, gentle and tentative, starts at the most northern point, beneath the lower band of my bandeau.
Trails down my spine, across the waistband of my pants.
Back up my hip on my right side. The buzzing heats my skin as he moves along, tracing the edges of the bruise—the coolness in its wake like wet paint left behind by his finger, the paintbrush.
“Sizable,” he answers softly.
“Great,” I sigh unevenly, wondering if I have a broken rib, too. It would explain why breathing feels more difficult than usual.
“Someone should teach you how to properly dive off a veilmane,” says Brynn, amused. He drops the hem of my shirt. “It’s an art.”
“Ha—you’re quite hilarious,” I say. “Sparring a prince was also a poor choice. My entire body hurts.”
“Here, Thea. Lean back,” he commands. His serious tone compels me to obey. A soft groan of contentment escapes me as the pressure on my spine is relieved. His chest rumbles with laughter. “The palace healer will fix you right up.”
Brynn’s arms snake around me to take hold of Shadow’s reins. I allow it.
“Rest. I’m told I’m pretty comfortable.”
“By whom?” I ask a pinch too loudly.
“Well, by Glo, mainly,” he admits.
The quiet grows between us. I watch the trees flash by with very few thoughts in my head. He is quite comfortable, as I know from our first ride together. But I do not wish to fall asleep and dream of my mother again. Another random memory resurfaces and curiosity seizes me.
“You never told me why you were chasing Glo through Aston that day. Only that she took something from you.”
“Ah,” says Brynn cryptically. His pause lingers enough that I worry he won’t indulge me, but he takes a deep breath and continues, “She took my notebook. One I keep, with the notes on my mother. She conjured a passageway in the middle of my apartment.” He pauses.
“I heard that my mother was in Aston. It took a long while to narrow that much down. And admittedly, I was afraid. I’ve been searching for answers, for her—for a long time.
What if… what if she did not claim me? What if she turned me away? ”
I ponder this. I can’t help but think of Mavick. Of everything I know now. That this whole venture could have been a ploy, a game for power, with me as a stupid pawn. I understand Brynn’s fear. What if they do not wish to be found? What if finding answers only brings pain?
“Glo goaded me. Into going. I had no choice but to follow her. I was afraid of what havoc she would wreak—what trouble she could get into alone in the mortal realm,” he continues quietly. “But she knew it was what I needed. She knew I couldn’t take the leap alone.”
“Glo is a good friend.”
“Truly,” he says, and the warmth in his tone warms me too. “We did not find any new clues, though. We were wildly out of our element. And I can only use glamours for so long. Glo lost her licit authorization to conjure passageways—hopefully just temporarily. But it wasn’t fruitless, at least.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I found you,” he says and I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Well, I guess Glo did. She robbed you—her and her godsdamned sticky fingers. When I stopped to help you gather your things, and you looked at me with that boiling expression… I knew I would never forget your face. Those stubborn blue eyes would haunt me forever.”
“Truly?” I ask with a smirk, my insides fluttering. Brynn’s head nods above mine.
“When I came across you bucking up to Tooth in the bazaar, I did a double take. I did not think I would ever see you again. I was in denial for weeks, really. I thought, ‘There’s no way in all the hells that this is the same mortal girl. How lucky I am to be able to save her from good ole Tooth.’”
“Tooth? The minotaur’s name is Tooth?” I dwell on this instead of his sincerity.
“Yes, Tooth and I go way back,” he says.
I reflect again on the serendipity of our meeting.
How rare it was for me to have been in Aston.
How Brynn was there by chance, forced by Glo’s reckless hand.
Despite the guilt that still eats away at me for using Yield on my father…
I would not know these people, perhaps my first real friends outside of Mavick, without it.
“Remind me to thank Glo, too,” I say softly, my face flushing. Brynn chuckles against my hair.
Several minutes pass before his words finally settle in full.
“Wait—for weeks?”
“Yes, our day in Aston was nearly a month before I found you offending a minotaur.”
I do not tell him that, for me, it was only a day. I don’t want to think about what that means for my father’s wellbeing. I press the worry down—hard—burying it beneath everything else I’ve chosen not to deal with yet.