Pain rippled through Neil like lightning. He flinched before he could stop himself, and a low, harsh sound escaped his lips. He jerked away from the touch as if it were a hot brand.
Lachlan dropped his hand at once. “Christ, I didnae ken. I am sorry.”
“We can talk another time,” Neil snapped.
He saw the grimace on Lachlan’s face. Still, he could not take back the words.
“Aye.” Lachlan bowed his head, polite as ever, though worry flickered in his eyes. “I will go check on the training grounds.”
“Please do,” Neil said.
The door closed while he set his palm on the wound and pressed, as if he could put the fire out with a steady hand.
He looked out the window. The sky beyond was clear blue, and the sun shone rather brightly on the lawn, spilling a green hue all over the grass.
Neil stood up. He snatched his swordbelt from the back of the chair and slung it, then took it off again because steel felt comforting against his skin, especially in a castle that seemed to close in on him.
Everything could change, but he could always count on steel to remain the exact same.
Evening settled over the castle, and little stars spread across the dark sky like a bar of diamonds.
Kristen had always loved watching the night sky. Since childhood, she had found the endless stars and how they blinked above to be rather soothing.
The stairs curled tight and steep as she climbed with one palm on the cold stone, her breathing slow so it would not betray her trepidation. She should have turned back. She should have let the night keep him and his rules. Instead, she kept going, each step a small argument she meant to win.
The air grew colder near the top. She reached the landing and pressed her fingers to her throat to settle the pulse there.
Part of her had expected Neil to ignore her rule entirely, and another part had expected him to burst out and catch her running from it. Neither had happened, so she opened the door and slipped into his room.
A single candle burned near the bed. The bed itself was neatly made, too neatly for a man who slept hard. The room smelled of smoke, steel, and a man who had lived too long outside.
She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. The mattress had the wrong give, unfamiliar to her body. She folded her hands and unfolded them, then twisted her fingers in her skirt to stop the tremors. Her eyes flitted to the fireplace, before landing on the old clothes lying on the side, a few inches from the low fire.
Why hadnae he burned them yet?
She rehearsed the words she would say if he told her to go. She thought of Finn’s snores and Anna’s thumb tucked in her mouth, of Maggie sprawled like a guard who never slept.
If she let her husband keep the tower, folks would whisper that nothing had changed. They would count nights and pin them to her name.
She would not have it. A marriage could be cold, but not invisible.
Not again. Not now that they had children watching their every step. They needed to show their people that they could return to the couple they had almost been once upon a time.
She was still studying the room when booted steps came up the stairs outside the room. She knew they belonged to him because they were not hurried. Only Neil would walk around the castle with the urgency of a man who knew the world would wait for him, no matter how late he was.
She stood up, then sat back, stubborn as a child who had stolen a chair.
The lock turned, and the door opened sharply. Neil froze when the candlelight met him.
Kristen lifted her chin. “I thought ye might break me rule.”
His eyes narrowed. “So ye thought it wiser to break mine?”
“I came to remind ye of it,” she said. “If ye forget it, I will come here and tell ye again.”
“This room is forbidden to ye,” he gritted out.
“Yer rule is foolish,” she scoffed. “Mine isnae.”
