I guess there’s something to be said for never being able to remove one’s armor.
Xandril’s lack of armor—or anything at all from the waist up—gives me an uninhibited view of his honed muscles, how they bunch and flex, how the heat inside him flares and wanes as he navigates the fight. I could have watched this from my spinning room, could have enjoyed the show without my guards pressing in on all sides of me, but then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of hearing the blades scrape along his impenetrable shoulders or the thrilling sounds he makes when thrusting forward with his own weapon.
EvenIam feeling the fight’s intensity, lowering my hood to cool the sweat beading along my hairline. Down below, Xandril stumbles, for a moment looking up toward me. Too long a moment, actually. His lapse is quickly pounced on, and the gang of guards takes him down like a pack of wolves after an elk.
Expecting to see the earth around him steam, his heat glowing, I’m surprised to watch Xandril stand and graciously congratulate the guards while brushing off snow and dirt. He looks back up toward the guard tower where I am, pinning me with that fiery gaze as he approaches.
“That was an impressive display, Your Highness,” I say when he reaches the ramparts, my guards quickly scattering to leave us alone.
“I lost.”
I shrug. “Even so, one against four, you gave them a challenge—I thought Captain Hilduin said you distract them?”
His eyes are the only part of him that flares, but those burning coals could singe right through me. “Curiously, she’s designed some exercises I can assist with. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re implying, Your Majesty,” I say, still utterly failing to keep my smile tucked away.Damn. There goes any plausible deniability.
“Is that not why you’ve found yourself here?” he asks. The deep rumble in his voice and the heat coming off of him together are enough to make my cloak wholly unnecessary.
“Is it not reason enough to want to watch my betrothed display his considerable skills?” I tease.
He says nothing, only raising his brows, skepticism on full display.
“My lessons finished early and I hoped we might find the chance to dine together again.”
“I’d like that,” he says, a softness in his voice I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. “How have your lessons been? Have they…improved since we last talked?”
Shattered realms,I’ve been an oblivious fool.
“They have, in fact. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” I ask, tossing his own accusation back at him.
He doesn’t outright admit it, but his inability to look straight at me after I ask is admission enough. I didn’t have to tell him my tutors were bullying me for him to fix the problem right under my nose.
I don’t even know how to react. I’ve never had anyone fix things forme. It’s always been the other way around. It’s alwaysbeen the needs of everyone else before my own. And now here’s Xandril, every bit as competent and capable as I am, every bit as stubborn to right the wrongs he sees in the lives of those around him…and every bit as derelict in caring for himself.
It’s a mirror I’m not prepared to have held up to me, and I’m not sure he’s even aware it’s in his hands.
His big, strong hands. Work-roughened, practiced and skilled, and still gentle enough to help deliver a newborn back to life from the brink.
The moment I let my eyes drift to his hand, it’s too late. I don’t have a chance to stop myself before I’m slipping my fingers into the spaces between his, tugging him toward the stairs.
“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Xandril
“Brightstar?” I echo after Ingrid’s introduction to the ifrak calf. “Who told you its name?”
With all the other issues facing the reach, I haven’t kept up with news about the castle’s newest resident, but last I heard, the babe still hadn’t bonded. If that’s changed, it’s cause for a celebration.
“Well… No one did,” Ingrid says sheepishly, intently focusing on the calf’s wool, slowly beginning to lose its adolescent spots. “I just sort of…started calling it that one day? It felt right.”
I’m not sure what to think. On the one hand, anything that prevents losing the calf to the wild herd is a boon. On the other, Ingrid’s disregard for the rituals and customs surrounding our most sacred beasts might ruin any hope she has of being accepted by the reach or its throne.
In the end, she looks so happy nuzzling the calf and feeding it treats that I can’t bear to tell her she’s doing anything wrong.
Is she though?
