“Your Majesty.” His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, bruises and scrapes crawling across his jaw and up the side of his face from the battle in the clearing.
A stark reminder of everything I’ve spent the morning avoiding.
“Thorin,” I say. “You were on duty last night, too. Have you slept?”
He shakes his head. “Saeth offered to relieve me at dawn, but I told him I could manage a few more hours.”
I study his tired eyes and wonder how true that is. I’ve had guards outside my door since the day I was born, and I’ve never felt a moment of shame or guilt or a need to explain myself, but this morning, I do.
“I wasn’t . . .alonelast night, Thorin,” I say, and I’m not sure what reaction I expect, but I don’t get one at all. A bit of warmth finds my cheeks anyway, and I wish I could will it away. “Forgive me. I should have ordered you to take leave.”
Thorin frowns, then shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have taken it.”
My eyebrows go up, and he quickly adds, “One of us had to keep watch. We were ambushed. We could have been followed.”
I suppose that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen the tug of guilt in my chest.
“Saeth just got his family back,” he continues. “I wasn’t going to ask him to leave Leah any sooner than he needs to.” His eyes flick toward Quint for the barest second, and then his voice quiets similarly to my own. “I don’t mind taking watch.”
There’s a kindness in the way he says that. A generosity. Not just toward Saeth, but toward me, too.
Some of the tightness in my chest loosens. “Thank you, Ben.”
He nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I wouldn’t normally offer parting words to Quint, because he’d busy himself with his own tasks—but just now, I can feel him behind me. It’s taking everything inside me to keep from turning around, from offering an apology, from grabbing his hand and dragging him with me because I simply don’t want to leave him here.
But I don’t. I have to be the king, and that means touching no one and trusting no one. A king who was tormented, desperate for escape—exactly the way I was in the palace.
So I don’t offer parting words. I don’t even look back. I scowl and walk. But my skin is buzzing withwantandneed, and I can feel his eyes on my back.
He made me tea. He brought me a blanket. He saidnoand sat at my side when I was broken and hurting and lost.
Just like Thorin stayed awake all night so Saeth could be with his family. So I could be safe.
Ah, this is terrible. Was Quint right? Is this torment needless? Does it matter?
I run a hand down my face. What good is being the king if I can’t do what Iwant?
I sigh. “Hold, Thorin.”
My guard stops and waits.
I turn around and walk back to the house, then stride right up the steps.
Quint watches me approach. His voice is tight and formal. “Your Majesty. How may I—”
“Stop talking.” I take hold of his jacket and kiss him.
His reaction tothisis almost better than the way he went speechless over my offer to call me by name. He all but falls against the door, and when I draw back, his eyes are wide, his breathing quick.
“Forgive me,” I say softly. “I won’t turn away like that again. You have my word.”
His eyes search mine. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Harristan,” I whisper.
He hesitates, holding his breath, then shakes his head.
