How would it feel, to kiss somebody who he wanted to kiss? He had never longed, before meeting her, to find out. But now he wanted to bear her down flat onto the furs. He’d caught just enough glimpses of her, when he’d changed her clothes in her illness, that he could imagine her naked all too easily. If he were being honest with himself, he’d imagined it far too often at night, each daydream soured by the guilty knowledge that she’d never invited him to see any of it.
“I fear I am so inexperienced I ought never to take my eyes off the task at hand,” Niel said. She didn’t answer, but continued to look at him. Niel frowned, and continued. “Not finding the tunnel before those soldiers—and now, leaving the woodpile where their arrows could find it instead of bringing it inside…”
“You cannot possibly blame yourself for that,” Ayla said, tilting her head slightly to the side.
“Strategy is thinking two steps ahead. Something I often fail to do.”
“You cannot see all ends.”
“Perhaps not. But now we are short on wood,” Niel muttered.
The lady only shrugged.
“There’s plenty in the castle.”
“Is there?” Had he missed some cellar with stored logs somehow, even in all the time Niel and his men had spent searching the castle?
Ayla lifted her eyes and glanced around the room meaningfully. He followed the line of her gaze. Tables. Chairs. A desk. A chest of drawers for clothing.
Niel’s lips pressed together in a smile.
“Perhaps I needn’t have forced you to share my fire after all.”
“Nonsense,” Ayla said, lifting her cup to her lips. “There’s still no sense wasting what we have.”
For a moment they sat in silence, their eyes locked, as the fire crackled.
“Ayla?” he said, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. “I’ve a confession. A bad one.” She didn’t answer, but watched him, silently inviting him to continue. “I told you the rider had no news, except that my father received my message. That was not fully truthful.”
“I guessed as much,” Ayla admitted.
“I was supposed to return with him,” Niel said quietly. “My father is… not so certain about sending troops as I had expected.”
Ayla’s eyes stayed fixed on Niel, but he watched her expression slowly change, her lips falling at the edges and the look in her eyes going hollow.
“I’ve ideas on how to fix it.” His voice was low. “You needn’t worry. It changes nothing about your safety.”
“But what about yours?” Ayla’s voice nearly cracking. “Niel. You had a way out? Why wouldn’t you—”
“You can’t think I’d leave.”
“You should have,” she said fiercely. “If you had a path to safety, youshouldhave.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” he admitted, and then, realizing what he’d said, hastily added: “or my men. We’ll find a way forward. My father may yet change his mind.”
“Niel,” she murmured, but she sounded sad, her voice distant. Ayla turned away from him, towards the fire, the wine cup clutched in both hands as she stared dismally at the flames.
“We can last months yet. My father’s Aronthian allies want me alive. And I’ve a few tricks left. But I didn’t like the feeling of having lied to you, so. Now you know the truth.”
“Could you make a deal?” Ayla whispered. “They offered the castle for mercy. And you could trade me back to Ditmar, and—”
Niel felt his whole body tighten and go cold.
“No. Never. Do not even suggest such things.”
She bit her lip, and there was a moment of silence again, this one uncomfortable and laced with a sorrow he suspected they could both feel creeping towards them.
“We can last months yet,” Niel said hoarsely.
