So fast I didn’t see him move, Emrys suddenly had his sword out—pointed directly at our guards with a growl in his voice. “Let me be perfectly clear,” the tip of his sword moved to point at six throats, “if a single one of you leaves his post for his own dinner before my return, he will lose his headafterI’ve cut off less vital parts.”
A chorus of “Yes, Stormdân” followed.
I turned my head away so I could roll my eyes and let out a silent sigh. I’d have to get used to this side of him.
The stewpot bubbled slowly, steam curling around the scent of thyme, wild garlic, and onions. Everything about this moment was familiar, reminding me of our tiny hearth at home in Caervorn. As I cooked, I practiced my mental barriers to keep the guards’ emotions out. It was almost peaceful.
Emrys eventually returned to join our fire. Buoyed by food and rest, Catrin became her normal talkative self, filling the air with stories about the young princes growing up in the castle.
As I passed him the wooden bowl, his fingers grazed mine. Given his nimble hands, he’d done it deliberately. The contact was enough to spark that same heat I’d felt beside the river, when he’d taken my hand and hadn’t let go.
Emrys took a bite, his expression thoughtful as he chewed slowly. “This is good,” he murmured, and for once, his words weren’t guarded—they were grateful.
“Well,” Catrin said with a mischievous grin, “that’s one way to put what’s goin’ on here.”
He leveled a withering look at her, which she promptly ignored.
His silence during the meal was nothing new, but I did catch him sneaking glances at me occasionally. It seemed I was still on his mind. I was perfectly fine with that because I couldn’t stop thinking about him either.
After the meal, Emrys stood and crossed to our tents. His was on the far edge of the camp, presumably so that his nightmares would affect fewer people. Ours was placed a respectful distance away, but still the closest to his of any. Without explanation, he shifted the angle of our tent by levitating the entire, still intact, structure into the air. Then he turned our tent until its entrance nearly kissed his.
He offered no explanation, but his intent was obvious. No one would reach us without going through him first. After seeing his casual display of power in the cave-in, gods help anyone who tried.
A single flap of fabric now stood between us and him. Between me…and sleep I suddenly wasn’t sure I’d get.
We settled in, and Catrin fell asleep almost instantly. She’d warned me that sleeping outdoors was more effective than any sleeping draught for her, but I’d thought it was an exaggeration.
I had a different experience altogether. Emrys moving around on the other side of the thin walls kept me awake. Every rustle and shuffle was amplified in the quiet as I lay in my bedroll. When I looked over, I saw the unmistakable outline of a body at the tent’s opening, suggesting he’d shifted his bedroll to be at the entrance.
I couldn’t help but smile as I pictured him slumbering, his sword clutched loosely in his hand, the moonlight painting shadows across his scarred face because he refused to shut the flap between us—all because he was too worried.
But his walls were up again. He was shutting me out.
Looking over to ensure that Catrin was still fast asleep, I scooted my bedding closer to the entrance. “Prince Emrys,” I whispered. “Are you awake?”
A rustle then, quietly, “Yes.”
“Can we talk?”
His tone was carefully dismissive. “We are…”
“Please…stop pushing me away.”
“…I must.”
That was it. I was done playing this game with him. I sat up, grabbed my fur robe, and wrapped myself tightly in its warmth. Without a second thought, I untied the tent’s flap and stepped over Emrys’s prone form still at the entrance of his own tent.
The interior offered no comforts, unlike ours. He didn’t even have a pillow. Was this how all the warriors slept? With only two rolls of leather, a tiny washbasin, and weapons nearby? Or was this Emrys torturing himself in yet another way?
His eyes were wide as I kneeled beside him on the tent floor, hair unbound, my modesty only retained by the thick furs I’d been gifted. His almost innocent startled expression said that my boldness had truly shocked him.
I whispered, “You care. I see it. So why do you act like you don’t? Why do you shut the door just when I reach it?”
He exhaled and closed his eyes, laying his head back on the hard ground. When he spoke, his voice came out as little more than a whisper. “Because you look at me like I’m something more than a monster…when I’ve spent far too many years proving that’s all I am.”
His eyes remained tightly shut when I said, “Then I guess we disagree on who you are, Prince Emrys.”
“You saw what I did to Owain.”
