Her fingers trailed down to her locket, and inside, the noxscura thrummed like a heartbeat. It was still there, still hers, and for perhaps the first time, she was grateful.
CHAPTER 18
A COWARD SWEATS EVEN IN WATER
Reeve had never felt worse. Well, there was that time he’d been stabbed. And that time his soul had been sucked out of him for a bit, though that didn’t really hurt, not like this. This was more like the stabbing. But somehow, in the moment, the headache exceeded a rent belly.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed was even painful, so he stood immediately, thinking that would help. It didn’t. He stumbled barefoot to the window to pull back the curtain.
Oh, the fuckingsun. Did it have to be so bright and blinding and—
“Shit, Valcord, sorry,” he mumbled, and his own voice made his brain feel like it was clawing to get out through his ears.
He had certainly missed the dawn. Hopefully, his god would forgive him, the torture of waking up enough of a punishment. He pressed his forehead against the cool stained glass and closed his eyes.Valcord, give me the strength to—
“Finally rose to the occasion, bud?”
Reeve rocked his head in the direction of the sword propped up in the corner. “Don’t remember putting you there.”
“Youdidn’t.”
That could only leave Celeste, of course. There was little Reeve could remember of the night before except her. She had looked exceptionally pretty, smiling and laughing under the candlelight of the tavern. He had been sitting close to her, and it had been quite warm, and there was something else warm that he had touched. Her…thigh?
Reeve straightened, the movement so quick it rattled his brain. No, surely he had only thought about doing that.
Carefully, quietly, achingly, Reeve trudged himself across the room, down the hall, and to the stairs. It was an arduous journey, perhaps even worse than through the Charred Caverns of Malifort, but a reward awaited him when he peered down into the temple.
Celeste sat in a beam of sunlight in the main hall, twisting her hair into a thick braid. Her fingers moved with an easy quickness, black strands catching the morning’s sun to reflect a blue iridescence. He had touched those strands, hadn’t he? Perhaps it had only been a dream, but it was as if he could still feel them, silky on his fingers as he watched her.
She sat surrounded by the fullness of her skirt and a number of books laid open, a small stack of parchment and a reed beside. The sharp planes of her face were drawn tight as she studied the words before her, fingers working absently to the end of the braid where she tied it off with a ribbon. A long, slender arm reached out and turned a page, and then her hand went to Plum’s head and gently pet the wyvern as he destroyed a bowl of berries at her side.
Since Reeve had come to Briarwyke, each day began with increasing pleasantness, provided he overlooked his current hangover, and while he stood still at the head of the stairs and watched her, his headache was a simple thing to forget. The thought passed temptingly through his mind that every morning could be just like this, waking to seek out Celeste. Or better, waking up together because they had not been apart in the night.
His grip on the banister tightened. Even the worst headache of his life hadn’t ravaged the previous night’s desires, though what had actually occurred was a woozy, muddled mess. He remembered…remembered a dirty story or two, and he remembered being smitten, being jealous, being called a coward. Reeve snorted, continuing down the stairs with heavier steps. He wasn’t a coward, and he would prove—
“You’re awake!” Celeste was as surprised about it as he, but quite a bit louder.
Reeve groaned, rubbing his head as he reached the temple’s main chamber. Blinding light dappled through the broken windows above unhelpfully.
Celeste popped herself off the couch and swept up to him, holding up a wad of something green. “Chew it,” she said. “You’ll feel better in a bit.”
“Did you?” She was awfully awake, eyes wide and unblinking as she stared up at him.
“Didn’t need to, but Delphine used it a lot. Trust me, it will work.”
He sniffed the bitter bundle of herbs, the smell reminiscent of poison, but Celeste would never poison him. He stuck the clump of green in his mouth and immediately changed his mind.
“Keep chewing,” she ordered, taking her hand to his chin and closing up his mouth before he could spit it out. “You need to be in top form today.”
Reeve nearly swallowed, eyes darting down to her fingers before she yanked them away from his face. He wished she’d left them there a moment longer. “You have more heavy things for me to carry?”
“No.” She clasped her hands and spun toward the stacks of books she’d been studying. “Something worse.”
Reeve didn’t know how going to Briarwyke’s general store was worse than continuing to clean up the temple, but he was grateful to be standing in the Horn of Plenty and not lugging around bones since his own felt too heavy to properly cooperate. The bitter root had mostly cleared his head, but that came with another problem: remembering.
Or rather, muddled recalling. Because there were things that Reeve said and did, or wanted to say and do, had thought very hard about saying and doing, but wasn’t quite sure if they actually came out of his mouth or were indeed done.
Reeve was growing increasingly mortified at the possibilitysomethinghad occurred and he’d forgotten. Celeste’s awkward and somewhat cold demeanor wasn’t helping.
