I swallow my disappointment.
“It’s late, and you’re hurt,” I tell him softly.
“I’m fine,” he says, “thanks to you. But the Kilandrar can sense the Whisting. They’re surely on our trail. And next time, we might not evade them.”
“Then we’d best be prepared and get a good night’s rest.” I walk over to the bedroll I brought with me and arrange it next to his, along with the pillow I threw at him.
“You still want to stay here?” He sounds surprised. “After everything I’ve told you?”
“I know how to stop you from hurting yourself or anyone else now.” I point to the knife by his side. “Blood magic. It released the Whisting’s hold on you. And now we know how to fight the Kilandrar, too.” I begin to unbutton the fastenings on my dress.
His entire body tenses. “What are you doing?” he demands.
“What does it look like I’m doing? Getting ready for bed. Be a gentleman and turn around.”
Dietan falls silent and faces the other way as ordered. I quickly remove my outer garments so I’m wearing only my smallclothes and a modest linen shift. “You can turn around now,” I tell him. “Did you peek?”
“Of course I did.” He grins. “With a beautiful woman undressing in his tent, what man could help himself…”
I blush. I’ve only ever heard such praise from drunk farmers hunting for another pair of hands to cook their meals or care for their motherless children. And yet, coming from this prince who commands servants aplenty, who has greater need of a friend than a maid, those words feel sincere for the first time in my life. Still, I don’t want to fall for it. “I’m nothing and nobody,” I say.
“Aren Bellamore, that could not be further from the truth,” he says solemnly.
“Shut your trap.”
“I can’t win with you, can I? You accuse me of being cold, but when I’m nice, you don’t like it, either,” he says, exasperated.
I shake my head and cluck my tongue, even though I’m still blushing furiously. “When we were fighting. When I accused you of—having feelings for me…” I start. Now he’s the one blushing. “You turned the Whisting on yourself rather than let it hurt me.”
He starts getting into his bedroll and sighs. “I don’t know if I did.”
“You were able to control it. You directed it toward yourself. Dietan, you’d rather kill yourself than anyone you care for,” I say with a small smile on my face.
He notices. “What?”
“You care for me.”
“I never said I didn’t,” he says. “Of course I care for your well-being.”
Fine.Be that way, arrogant man.
Still, when we look at each other, an understanding passes between us. Something delicate, so fragile and tender that we both leave it unsaid. Neither of us speaks for a long moment.
“We don’t have to talk about that anymore,” I say with a yawn as I slip underneath the blankets. “I don’t want to cause you any more distress. I don’t want that to happen again. I now understand why you didn’t want me to sleep in your tent.”
“But you still mean to stay?”
“Yes.”
He frowns. “You’re risking your life, you know.”
I turn on my side so I’m facing him. The lamplight casts shadows on the planes of his troubled face. “Dietan, I’m not afraid of you. You would never hurt me, ever,” I whisper, and I believe it with my whole heart. Then I roll over and drift off to sleep, secure by his side.
He cares about me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aren
