The others murmured their goodbyes and exited the cave, leaving Rynn and Isla alone once more. The heavy silence was punctuated by the pop of the fire and the anticipation pounding in Isla’s chest.
“Come here,” Rynn said from behind her, his voice gravelly. She turned to him, and, in one fluid motion, his hands came to her hips and lifted her onto a wooden barrel.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, sparks dancing where his fingers touched as he settled between her legs.
He gave his half-smirk. “Apologizing.” And then his lips were on hers.
Isla smiled into his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, wishing she could draw this moment out forever. Wind rustled excitedly around them, as if mirroring its master’s emotions. It swept up and around her body, lifting her hair and bringing her tunic up above her hips. She broke away with a laugh, putting her forehead against his.
“Tell your wind it needs to behave itself.”
“Can you blame it?” Rynn murmured, cupping her jaw in his fingers and angling her head back up to his.
“As much as I’m enjoying your apology,” she said, biting her lip, “itisgetting late.” Her exhaustion from searching for him was creeping back, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
Rynn sighed but didn’t argue. He simply put an arm under her legs and scooped her up, carrying her to the blankets in the corner. After setting her down, he turned back to the area where he usually slept.
Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh, you know, you don’t have to keep sleeping there, if you don’t want…” She trailed off when she saw the smirk on his face.
“I was only getting some extra blankets,” he said, reaching for the pile on the ground.
Her face flushed as she moved over to make room for him.Thank the gods, she thought. He slid in beside her and tucked her into him, his chin resting on top of her head.
She closed her eyes and focused on his chest moving up and down beneath her. The butterflies in her stomach had calmed, leaving behind the uneasy tension from before. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Yes?” he said, kissing her head lightly.
“After you left, Celesine mentioned that you have a lot of pain in your past with humans after something happened with ‘the last one.’” His fingers stiffened at her side, and she craned her neck to look at him. “What did she mean?”
Rynn stared straight ahead, his features as rigid as always. A slight motion caught Isla’s eye and, out of her peripheral, she saw his thumb twirling the gold ring that rested on his pinkie. It was several seconds before he responded. “Someone I loved put their faith in me and lost their life because of it.”
When he didn’t continue, wariness settled in Isla’s chest. “Who was this person?”
“It does not matter anymore.” His throat bobbed, but the rest of him remained still. “I have cared deeply for very few people in my existence, and they often found themselves hurt, dead, or hating me.” He finally looked at her, his eyes tracing the curve of her lips. “But I am a selfish being, Isla Belthare, for that does not seem to stop me from needing to be near you.”
A tickling, churning sensation formed in the pit of her stomach. She understood not wanting to talk about the past, especially if it had caused him this much pain—but there was more to the story. More tohim. What was he not telling her?
“Isla, I want you to promise me something.”
Isla hesitated, then nodded in response, his arms wrapping around her.
“Promise me that you will let us figure out a way to defeat him without using you. Let it beourbattle. And then, only if there is no other option before us, will you try to help.”
Isla chewed on her lower lip as Rynn’s fingers brushed down her spine. She supposed it was a fair request. A promise she could easily make, as long as in the end, her family, the kingdoms, and the elementals were safe.
“Alright,” she said. “I promise.”
He exhaled, and they fell into silence as her body curled against his. Like him, she felt the constant need to be near him, to assure herself that he was real. That he hadn’t left her.
But she couldn’t deny the frayed thread in the back of her mind, one that had been slowly weaving its way through her thoughts, snagging on sharp edges and pulling her back from these blissful moments.
He said people he cared about wound up hurt, dead, or hating him.
She couldn’t help but wonder: which would she be?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Isla
