Keeping watch was something I’d been trained to do.
One thing I was good at, and that’s what I did.
fourteen
Princess Erralee
A brush across my cheek from a rough—but tender—hand, gave me goosebumps, causing my lashes to flutter. My eyes were closed but I could hear the wind moan through the trees outside as they seemed to hum out their own dirge. The air in the room was thick with the scent of burning logs, and ash, potent enough to scratch against my dry throat.
The hand firmly pressed against my forehead, doing some sort of assessment, then softened, lingering for a short moment longer, enough to awaken me more. I opened my eyes.
Reeves.
He was the darkest shape, a mere shadow, sitting alertly with his eyes glued to me. Something about his hushed expression put my mind at ease, and I wasn’t afraid.
Mostly confused.
A roaring fire glowed, but other than that, the room was dark.I was in Reeves’ house . . .
Out of reflex, I pulled myself upright.
Like an avalanche tasked with shattering the peaceful skyline, my memories flooded back. Father sold me.
Weston was at war.
I had run away.
That knot—the one that wrung the bile right from my gallbladder and charged acid into my throat—swelled so tightly, I resisted a dry heave. It was a nightmare. By now Father had to know I was gone.I never even made it out of the country!He’d surely be able to find me here. Panic continued to spiral through my chest with each inhale, and my exhale took on more force as I breathed out, “I need to leave.”
Reeve’s face crept into the soft glow emitted from the fireplace. His lips parted into a neutral position, and heaven-spun blue eyes held a quiet sensitivity, as if he knew all my secrets. “It’s one of the worst blizzards in decades.” His voice was gruff and sounded as hardened as the stony gaze he held on me. He clearly wasn’t going to entertain any pushback from me now. “I found you about ten miles north of my house, on the opposite side of the castle, which means you walked almost twenty miles in a blizzard. You nearly froze to death. You aren’t going anywhere.”
My voice was weak, my breath barely enough to fill my lungs, let alone support whispering, but I’d been stubborn all my life, and wasn’t going to stop now. I pushed my words out, “I, ah, told King Aswell I’d marry him, and I was going to do it.” I waited for a beat, sucking more air past my lump. “This morning I found out my father let my guard—Weston, go to the frontlines to fight, and he’d been keeping it a secret.”
Reeves’ lashes lowered. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t even know what that means.” I stared forward. My vision was still a little blurry, but slowly adjusting to the dark room. Light haze fogged the room, and I wasn’t sure if that was from my dizziness, or the dull ache in my heart. After amoment of introspection, I diagnosed it as the cloud of agony that encapsulated my life.
I squinted, doing my best to make out Reeve’s features. He was his usual rugged self, as if he was doing manual labor all day, his blond hair was styled in a buzz cut, almost down to the scalp, clearly not shaking his military habit. He held a take-charge expression, but something else was layered beneath that. An irritation I couldn’t place.
When he didn’t offer any words, I nervously put him on the spot with a question, “Do you think I overreacted?”
His chin inclined, and he hit me with an indirect gaze as if he were weighing my words for truth. When he still said nothing, I went on the defense. “Weston is my best friend. For Father to send him to the front lines, after he promised to end this war if I married King Aswell . . . I felt like I’d died.”
“You don’t ever have to explain yourself to me.” He shifted, now leaning even closer. His face was so near, it brought his scent of warm musky aftershave, adding to the miasma that already coated the air. The cocktail of scents had a calming effect on me. I hadn’t slept more than an hour or two since I had met King Aswell. This entire week had my nervous system in knots. Finally getting away from the castle, even though it wasn’t far, had a soothing effect on me and I felt as if my body was purging everything I left behind at the castle. Add to that, the hazy darkened room, and my six hours of traipsing in the snow, terrified out of my mind, I was exhausted. My eyelids wavered from opened to closed.
I searched for Reeves one more time, confirming what I already knew. He was still and sober, right next to me. Everything about this encounter felt like a dream. So much so, my eyes started to drift closed, and before I could resist, I’d fallen back asleep.
I awoke to the sound of someone walking on the roof. Unfortunately, I’d long since left the naivety of my youth to wish for Santa. My eyes grazed the room. It wasn’t any different from any of the other farmhouses that father had owned. Each was very modest but had enough space for a family. The living room that I was in had a single plaid sofa in the center, facing a large fireplace with a mounted TV above it. It was clean, without wall hangings on the knotted pine walls and open wood beams that framed an arched ceiling.
The kitchen was adjacent and ran in a L shape along two walls with masculine wood cabinets and darker stone countertops. The entire space was free from clutter. Except for the coat rack by the door, piled with heavy coveralls, and a couple of hats, I could barely tell someone even lived here. It didn’t look at all like it used to when the Barnes family lived here.
The Barnes raised three kids, and always kept things piled in every corner. Books or toys. With them being the closest neighbor with kids, Weston and I visited several times in our youth. There was always laughter ringing in the air, and something freshly baked on the stove. Of course, they treated me specially, offering me all the refreshments they had. Often, I wasn’t hungry, but I accepted the treats on behalf of Weston. As a growing boy, he always had an insatiable appetite, and I’d stuff the treat in my pocket to give to him later. My gaze dropped to the side as I thought about Weston . . .
Things had changed so much since then. This war was speeding up transformation in the most unpleasant ways. Iblinked, pushing the thought of the war away, and rose to my feet, crossing to the window, and listened. Obvious footsteps. Scraping. Then a massive plume of snow tumbled down.Is he shoveling the roof?
When his boots dangled down above my head, my suspicion was confirmed. A minute later, he shimmied down, using the porch rail as a step. When he landed on the deck, his eyes caught mine through the window. One side of his lips pulled up into that crooked grin he has, and he immediately pivoted and came inside. “Morning.” His voice was softer than expected, as if he was committed to protecting the silence.
“Morning.” Surprisingly I wasn’t moping. Something about being tucked away at Reeves’ house made my whole predicament feel unreal. I obviously couldn’t stay here, because I would be found but the storm gave me a respite. “Shoveling the roof?”
