I had mostly been joking, but my words caused a slight shadow to fall across Rourke’s face. When he stared at the wall distantly, I wondered if I’d struck a wound.
“My Dad and Pa were killed in their sleep,” Rourke finally said.
Cold shock ran through me.
Rourke went on. “I was barely older than a teenager, just turned twenty. Amos was a kid. Nine years old.”
My throat went dry. Rourke was only slightly older than Elian when tragedy struck him. I tried to imagine Elian going through the same and couldn’t do it.
“Bandits broke into our house,” Rourke said, still staring at the wall. “It’s pretty common in the outskirts.” He grimaced. “Guess they figured we were well-off ‘cause my parents ran a small farm. What a joke. Two murders for fucking nothing.”
I was quiet. There was no possible thing I could say to console him.
He blew out a harsh breath, then shrugged. “They left me and Amos. Or maybe they just didn’t notice us. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night to grab water from the well when I walked past their bedroom. Took everything I had not to scream. I took Amos and hid in the cellar until it was all over. That’s it.”
Were things really so awful in the outskirts? I felt guilty for not knowing, then another pang of guilt for realizing I hadn’t cared at all until I heard Rourke’s terrible story.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
The fondness returned to his face. The shadow slowly faded as he gave me a tired smile. “Not your fault. Anyway, I should be sorry for ruining the mood.”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” I said. “In any case, I… Thank you for telling me.”
Rourke’s smile deepened and he gently caressed the side of my face. “Thanks for caring.”
After half an hour of simply enjoying each other’s presence, I craned my neck towards the window. It was well past daybreak now, and despite the delicious warmth of Rourke’s body, years of habit were nagging at me to get out of bed. I kissed Rourke and said, “Come. I’d like to take a bath and wash away our lingeringaromas.”
Rourke flushed. “You mean together?”
“No, with Bjorn.”
I was clearly being sarcastic, but Rourke’s eyes flashed with fierce possessiveness. It was honestly a bit thrilling. I liked that he was willing to leap straight to my defence. It wasn’t the cold, neutral manner that the knights kept me safe—Rourke’s protection was fiery, hot, passionate. It was real. It meant something. A pulse of arousal stirred inside me but I pushed it aside. There would be plenty of time for that later.
“I was joking, if that wasn’t obvious,” I told him.
“I know. Still don’t like the mental image,” he growled.
I smiled. “You’re like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“Well, you’re the meatiest, juiciest bone in the world, so…”
I was just about to laugh at his crude compliment when a sudden racket outside drew my attention. I frowned as I listened. Clanging footsteps—dozens of knights. The sound ramped up as they got closer.
Rourke heard it too. He went to the window. “What the hell is that?”
Unease made me hesitate, but I joined Rourke. I almost wished I hadn’t. My stomach turned cold at the sight of a mob of armed knights approaching the guest house. But that wasn’t what terrified me. At the back of the mob, commanding all the knights, was my father.
I wanted to back away from the window, but I was frozen in fear. Rourke had more sense than me. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me away.
“Sebastian, what’s going on?” he asked.
“I—I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Was that the King?”
I was breathless. “Yes.”
I should have been thinking and rationalizing, but I couldn’t. For some reason, my mind went blank. My hands were shaking. In the small conscious pocket of my mind, I knew I was still standing naked.
