His shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath filled with resignation. “Yes.”
We mounted again, and he chewed in silence, waterskin resting in the mess of my skirts, ready for him whenever he needed it. I tried not to look around and stare at the bruised hollows under his eyes, but it was clear—he hadn’t slept. He might not have eaten either.
The day stretched long over the road. I told him everything about my capture, what little I knew of Maelric’s men and Anwen’s intervention—everything but the conversation we’d shared in her warded chambers. That could wait.
He didn’t speak about what he’d done to rescue me. He might never. It would be a bloody story, but if he ever wanted to tell it, I’d be there with open ears and arms.
By the time the sun kissed the horizon, I shifted stiffly in the saddle, ready to make any excuse to get him to take care of himself. “I need to rest. You know I’m still a terrible horsewoman.” I tried for a smile then sobered. “Emrys, you look worse than I do. While it’s still light, and I’m not drowsy,pleasesleep. I can keep a lookout. I’m not completely defenseless.”
His answer was soft, unexpected. “I know.”
A copse of trees waited a little way off. We turned the horses in, and for the first time, he let me help him pitch the tent. Side by side, we worked until the canvas stood taut and ready, and I dared to think maybe, just maybe, the curse’s grip was loosening with every mile we put between us and Tir Gelida.
Inside the tent, the air was still and quiet as I rolled out our gifted bedrolls. Ever wary, he kneeled, keeping watch out the opening.
“Emrys, will you hold me?” I asked, tone hopeful.
He startled as if he’d been half-asleep on his knees. His eyes were softer when he turned to me. He wrapped the blanket Anwen had given us around my shoulders then pulled it and me against him, still wearing his armor. Within moments, he’d slipped into slumber.
I didn’t mean to follow him into sleep, but the rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing pulled me under with him.
When I woke hours later, he was still holding me, asleep. Or so I thought, until he nuzzled into my hair and murmured a single word, almost too low to hear, “Mine.”
My heart swelled until it hurt.
“Yours,” I whispered back.
His arms tightened, and I laughed softly. “Emrys, I feel like history keeps repeating itself. I love this, but I found soap in the saddlebags. Youreallyneed to use it.”
He laughed, his face mirroring the joy of the man who’d stayed up all night, reminiscing about his childhood with me. Moonlight spilled through the tent’s half-open flap as he levered himself up to crouch over me.
“The river’s close,” he said quietly, as if afraid to disturb the hush of the night. His eyes caught the faint moonlight, bright and untamed. “But I can’t leave you.”
“I’ll come.” I stretched under the blanket, savoring the lingering warmth he’d left behind.
The idea of cold water should’ve made me shiver, but there was a low hum of anticipation in my chest. The curse might still have had its claws in him, but here, under the moon’s silver light and far from prying eyes, it felt like there was enough space just for us.
We left the horses tethered near the tent with some hay they’d had stowed in their packs and followed the sound through the trees until the ground sloped down to a narrow bank. The river glimmered black and silver in the moonlight, slow-moving but deep, reflecting the sky so perfectly it felt like stepping to the edge of another world. It was the northern reaches of the same one we’d bathed in together what felt like an eternity before.
Emrys stopped at the water’s edge, scanning the dark beyond. He was always assessing, always protecting. His fingers brushed mine in a momentary connection that felt like an unspoken question.
“I…” he started, but his voice was unsure. He twisted to assess the land around us yet again, wary.
By the time he turned around, my fingers were already halfway down the laces of my bodice. “I’m coming with you.”
He watched, spellbound, as I hastily removed my outer dress. I watched him, and he was so still that I couldn’t detect even the faintest rise and fall of his chest. Now, wearing nothing but my thin chemise, I reached for the soap in the pocket of my discarded gown.
“Anwen had my clothes cleaned. I’d like to keep them dry.”
Emrys still hadn’t moved, so I tossed the soap at him. He intercepted it with a quick hand just before it hit him squarely in the face.
Decision made with eyes wide open, I lifted my chemise over my head, revealing myself, body and soul to him.
“Take me with you, Emrys.”
Chapter 58
Emrys
