We lapse into silence again, and something about it reminds me of our time together in the carriage. I think of the way he finally began to share his true thoughts with me when we were alone in the darkness, compared with how he spoke to Jax and Tycho in the barn— or even the way he’s speaking to menow. I wonder if things between us will always be like this: sharp and brittle, with any softness hidden behind shards of glass.
But then his voice quiets to a murmur, and he says, “Truly, I understand why she’s doing it.”
For a moment, I’m not entirely sure I heard him correctly. I look over again, staring into his eyes. “You do?”
He nods. “The king sacrificed himself to protect her. So now she’s going to sacrifice herself for him.”
As soon as he says it, I hear the truth of it. Of course that’s what she’s doing. Ofcourse. No wonder she didn’t protest when Alek said we needed to go to Emberfall. No wonder she was so eager to take Nakiis to find Tycho. It has nothing to do with helping the scravers or hiding our magic. It has nothing to do with Lady Karyl or the Truthbringers. It has nothing to do with any of this. Not really.
It has everything to do with the king, and how desperately she misses him.
I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier. I’ve been seeing her pain for weeks, how badly she’s been suffering.
No wonder she crawled through fireplaces and evaded the guards.
“She loves him,” Alek says. Then his voice takes on his usual cynicism. “I don’t knowwhy, mind you, because the man has the personality of a plank of wood—”
“Alek.”
He falls silent, looking back at me, and I reach out to put a hand against his cheek. His jaw is prickly, and I drag my thumb across it,barely grazing his bottom lip. He seems to stop breathing, his eyes so intent on mine.
“You’re so disheveled,” I say flatly, because I know it’ll make him crazy.
He nearly sits straight up in bed. “I am notdisheveled—”
I rap him on the hand, like he’s a child. “Hush, you’ll wake the princess.”
Alek clamps his mouth shut, then drops his voice. “Fine. But I amnot—”
“Downright unkempt,” I add. “I thought your House was known for style and—”
He puts a hand over my mouth. “Stop, before you truly offend me.”
I laugh softly behind his fingers. But thenhisthumb brushes across my lip, and it’s my turn to stop breathing. When he leans down to kiss me, it’s not the swift surety I’ve always felt before from him. There’s a question. An inquiry.
So I kiss him back, and I’m struck by the fact that it’s . . .gentle. Not that he’s ever been forceful or demanding in his intimacy. Just that he’s always so arrogant. This almost feels vulnerable.
When he draws back an inch, I almost grab hold of his tunic and pull him closer.
But then he traces a warm finger over my lip and says, “Callyn, as lovely as you are, I have spent far too many hours on a horse for me to be a suitable bed partner.”
It’s so unexpected that I burst out laughing. “Aww,” I say with feigned sympathy, stroking a hand down his chest. “Are you a bit sore—”
“No!” he snaps in a fierce whisper. “I amfilthy.”
He’s so outraged about his state of being that it just makes me laugh harder. “I can’t possibly think of any other man who’d put cleanliness above—”
“Callyn.”
He sounds so stern that I curl in on myself, trying not to giggle so loud. I’m sure it’s stress, but I don’t care. He’s just soridiculous.
But then he strokes a hand along my hair, and it’s so gentle and soothing that it steals every bit of laughter from my body. I blink and stare at him, my body gone completely still.
“I’m very sorry for the way I treated you,” he says softly. “I regret every word.”
I’m frozen in place, because I can’t imagine any possible way I heard him properly. “Pardon?” I say.
He flicks his eyes skyward and taps me on the nose. “Go to sleep. We’re going to war in a few hours.”
