“I would sit at your feet for days to hear them all, wife. Then I’d take them all to the grave with me, guarding them even in the After,” he answered, and gods. Something deep in her belly clenched at the words.
“You’re right,” she said simply, thumbing his bottom lip once more, delighting in the way his breath hitched at the motion. “My experience with fucking is limited. I have experience, but only once. It was—” She paused, rolling her lips at the memory. “But that was just the act of fucking as I understand it. It wasn’t…” Her thumb swiped again.
His eyes were darting between hers, and she could see the desperate bid to try to understand what she was telling him.
“There were no gentle touches,” she said in a hushed rush. “No slow explorations. No letting me…do this,” she continued, brushing her thumb across his lip again. “There was no kiss?—”
She went rigid, yanking her hand back and spinning to the door. Her ashes had felt them, warning her. Lifting her bow over her head, an arrow appeared in her other hand.
A reminder that while secrets stayed locked in her dreams, so did her nightmares.
Buthewas the nightmare when she awoke. She knew the truth, even if he kept it hidden from everyone else.
She lurched up, turning to the right. Again, there was no king in the bed, but she wasn’t in the Cliffs either. Shoving back the blankets, she checked her forearm, finding it bare.
Back in the castle.
Back in Avonleya.
She flopped down on the bed, pushing stray hair from her face.
Of course he wasn’t here. It’d been over a week since they’d visited Shadowfen. He’d slept beside her twice. The first night, he’d slept so deeply, she’d woken before him the next morning. The pillow was still between them, but he’d rolled into it, and her arm was stretched across it, her fingertips barely brushing his forearm.
Lying there, listening to his steady breathing, it would have been so easy to slip from the bed and explore if it weren’t for her power not working right. Even in her dreams, it had still taken control. Taking her somewhere she hadn’t intended to go.
The second night he’d slept in the bed with her, he’d been gone when she’d woken, so she had no idea if they’d woken in the same position or another.
Glancing at the small clock on the mantel across the room, she figured she’d better get up. Razik became grumpier than usual if they stayed in the rooms too long. She didn’t mind leaving, so she let the male escort her around the castle and Aimonway. It was good for her to get to know the halls and local markets, but even Razik didn’t take her from the city, despite his obvious contempt for Cethin. Anything involving leavingAimonway seemed to take at least a day’s worth of planning, if not a week.
It’d become routine to wander through all the rooms on their floor, making sure no one else was here. Then she made her way to the main bathing chamber, leaving the door open so she could hear if anyone entered.
She pulled her nightdress off, rinsed her mouth, and piled her hair atop her head before climbing into the filling tub of hot water. According to Cethin, those with fire magic heated the tanks of water that were pumped throughout the castle. In the mortal kingdoms across the sea, only the wealthy had such a luxury, and their tanks weren’t heated by magic since magic couldn’t be found in the mortal lands. But in Avonleya, at least in Aimonway, it seemed fairly standard. It was why she’d been surprised to learn Tenebrae Halls didn’t have the ability.
Choosing from the array of oils and salts along the ledge, she dumped something in that smelled faintly like juniper berries and lavender before tipping her head back. Her hand glided through the water, playing with the small bubbles that took over the surface, while the other hand toyed with the crystal that still hung around her neck. It had started out as a symbol of her control against Cethin, something to irritate him, but it had since become a comfort in a way. Like the Mark on her arm in her dreams, she supposed.
She’d been here for weeks now. The Union Celebration was approaching quickly, and she was no closer to figuring out the mess with her power. There was so much of itnotworking. Yes, not being able to move through her smoke and ashes was an issue. A big fucking problem.
But also…
Cethin had been stabbed with her dagger and pierced with her arrow and had survived both encounters. No one else had ever survived when struck with those weapons. Her otherdaggers, sure. The arrows not woven with her magic, yes. But Cethin had survived both of her weapons that were created from her magic.
How?
And why couldn’t she move through her smoke and ashes?
For the briefest of moments in that dream, she’d felt like herself again. Whole. Complete despite her physical body being nothing but ashes. It was something that had always been hers. The one freedom no one could take from her, and now it was eluding her. As if she’d somehow failed her magic, and now it was punishing her for it. It was messing with her on every level. She was getting too distracted. She was missing things that should be obvious, feeling too out of sorts. As if every step was on uneven ground and she couldn’t find her footing.
They’d told her. Warned her that something like this could happen. They’d told her it was why they pushed her to have absolute control over her magic. Maybe they’d been right all along. Maybe all that agony and torture had been necessary. But others learned to control their magic without such extreme measures. Then again, there weren’t many like her.
They’d warned her about that too.
How she’d be hunted for her abilities.
So she’d vowed to become the hunter.
She had people to protect just as much as Cethin did. Despite what he thought, she did understand the responsibility of protecting people. She knew he thought her selfish and cold for withholding her weapons, but she wondered if he’d ever considered why. Or did he truly think that was who she was? That couldn’t be true, or he wouldn’t have made her his queen. Then again, he would clearly do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
She sank deeper into the tub, water lapping at her chin as her dream flitted through her mind. The feel of his heartbeatbeneath her palm. The stubble along his jaw. His breath on the pad of her thumb. She’d marveled at it, and it had all made her so…curious. It almost made her understand the allure of physical contact. But she’d been the one doing the touching, not the other way around.
