20
Chapter 20
Idreamed of a simple life. Sequestered in an idyllic plain, I tended the garden of my little house, watching the lake sparkle beneath the sun. Two children, their faces blurry, ran around the yard, and the door swung open. Joy bloomed in my heart as I stood to greet my husband.
My eyes shot open. I lay on hard, cold ground, wrapped in a thin blanket and cloak. A pleasant breeze ruffled my hair, and light spilled in through the tent flaps. Sitting up, I noticed Eleos lacing on his bracers, bag already packed.
“Morning,” he said softly. “I figured I’d let you sleep in a bit. You needed it.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I’ve always been an early riser.” He deflected, just as Seraphim promised he would.
Pulling up my knees, I studied his face. “I’ve never had this sort of thing before.”
He looked up, interested. “What’s that?”
“Someone I felt I could trust.”
“I did once.” He picked up the other bracer and slid it on. “But it’s been some time.”
“You don’t trust Seraphim?”
“As a leader. As a companion. But not like . . . " He trailed off, searching forthe right word.
I knew what he meant: someone you spilled the inner workings of your heart to.
Rising, I grabbed my sash from the ground. “Was it the girl you courted?”
“Which one?”
“Oh, so he is a skirt-chaser.” I teased.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, neither of them. It was my sister.”
“You have a sister?” I asked, tying my sash.
“I did,” he said quietly. His sage-green eyes glistened with nostalgia. “She was the one who called me El.”
“Oh,” I said somberly. “I wish I could have met her. I bet she had one hell of a sharp wit.”
A smile bloomed across his face. “Oh, she did.” He confirmed, sweeping his cloak over his shoulder.
Grabbing my bag, I reached inside. “I wanted to give this to you under better circumstances, but—” My eyes fell to his journal as he tucked it into his satchel. “I think you need it now.” Pulling out the quill, I placed it into his hand.
Eleos turned it over, admiring the words carved into the leather. “Ah!” He gasped softly. “This is Cynthus leather. When did you . . .?”
“When you and Seth were fawning over the cloaks.”
He grinned. “Thank you, Lady Aethra. It’s beautiful.” Tossing aside his broken quill, he tucked the new one safely into his journal. Cupping my face, he kissed me on the forehead. “Go help Seraphim. She’s probably getting impatient.”
He strode outside without another word. Playing with the clasp of my cape, I loitered in the tent. After what happened last night, I’d expected more than words between us. A kiss? Or, maybe an amorous embrace?
Perhaps Eleos was more traditional and preferred a formal declaration of courtship before engaging in anything intimate.
Stepping outside, I shielded my eyes from the rising sun. A streak of light illuminated Seraphim’s fiery hair as she roused thecamp, snapping orders at the guards and able-bodied men, stopping briefly to help a young mother tie their cargo to a pack mule.
I didn’t believe the masked nobleman—not a word of the slander he’d tried to sell me. Seraphim had started this endeavor, risked her life for the Bloodstone, for Seth, for all of us. She strode with the confidence of a leader, guiding these people though it hadn’t been our plan.
