“And how do you know so much about this event, Evren?” Agnes asks, her amber eyes scouring his face.
“I was a guard,” Evren says, his voice lowering. “And after that, a hunter.”
Tallulah tucks a piece of fallen hair behind his ear, and as she begins to pull her hand away, he catches it. Placing a delicate kiss to her knuckles. “Clearly, much has changed.” His smile is faint and no one else speaks on the subject for the rest of the morning.
“Cora!”Jarek screams, waking me from my sleep. His eyes are still pressed tight, fingers clenching around our sheets.
“Cora!” he screams again, this time bolting upright.
“Shh,” I whisper, running my fingers down his arms. “It was only a nightmare, Jarek.” I sit up behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest. His breathing is strained, skin damp with sweat. “Only a nightmare, my love.”
His breathing begins to steady, his shaking body slowly calming. It’s been a long time since he’s been plagued by nightmares of his home, but I run light kisses down his back until I feel his muscles relax.
“Thank you,” he says, as we both lay back down. He rests his head on my chest, his arm draped around my middle.
I stroke his blonde hair, not missing the slight tremble of his shoulders. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“The same as the last,” he says against my skin. “Cora and Helen and Ma, their bodies and blood and—” He presses his face deeper into my chest.
“It’s all right,” I say. “I’m here. It was only a nightmare.” But the truth of the matter is, there’s no way of knowing just what waits for Jarek in Scandavi. When he was forced upon a ship four years ago, his family was alive.
But we know all too well how quickly things can change.
His breathing becomes heavy, his arm still tucked around my middle, pinning me in place. I relax my shoulders but my mind is racing. Too occupied thinking of this man who has wandered so far from home. Who has been forced to stay in Teravie during the blight. The seas overturned with storms, too deadly to sail.
He has so many unanswered questions about his family and the fate of his home. Just how long will he stay before he goes searching for answers?
Fifteen
Roman
The whip cracksagainst my skin a second time, but I don’t flinch. If I do, it’ll only drive my father to raise it again. So, I stay perfectly still, tears stinging the sides of my eyes, jaw clenched.
“Get up,” he says, voice flat and unbothered.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stand on uncertain legs. I bite my tongue to keep from wincing, the pain shooting across my back as I turn to face him.
He places the whip back in its holder on the wall. “What did you learn?”
My lip snarls as he flexes his hand, as though he’s in pain from the work he’s done on me. My gaze lingers a little too long and before I can correct it, his eyes snap to mine.
“I asked you a question, Roman.” He takes a few strides toward me. I suck in a breath at his abrupt closeness, fighting the urge to shrink into the corner.
“I-I…” My tongue trips over itself as my father looms over me. He doesn’t even have to speak for my body to react to him.
Fight or flight, Roman.
Much to my father’s despair, it’s never been fight for me. I wish I could run, right now. Straight through the doors and never look back, because no matter how I pretend, I’ll never be the son King Silas Rudhek expects me to be.
Preferring books over weapons and art over bloodshed. It’s the same damn foolery that’s ended me up here today. Squaring my shoulders, I tilt my chin, so we’re eye level. “I’ll never miss training again,” I say with much more conviction than I feel.
His dark eyes narrow. He doesn’t believe me. Idon’t even believe me, but what else can I say? Certainly not the truth. That I’ll always choose the library over the sparring ring, just as I had earlier today.
He wasn’t supposed to be in Valebridge and so I took my chances, running from training and straight into the welcoming arms of a thousand tomes. But much to my disappointment, his trip to Scandavi was cut short, and he arrived back in Valebridge just in time to hear word from my mentor that I’d skipped yet another session.
I open my mouth to defend myself, but before I can speak a word, his knuckles connect with my cheek in the lightest of touches. Brief and warm and harmless, he runs his fingers down my face.
“Good,” he whispers before smiling. “I only want the best for you son.” His fingers linger, cupping me just under my chin.
