Taking a few steps, she came to a sudden halt when she spotted the figure that stood down the beach. Tall and broad, the moonlight made his shoulder-length silver hair seem to shimmer. His back was to her, hands in his pockets as he stared out at the sea, waves lapping at his bare feet.
She shouldn’t be surprised to see him here. Not with how much he’d become a part of her life. It wasn’t the first time he’d shown up in her dreams either, but it was the first time he’d been here, at the cliffs.
Like every other time he’d been in her dreams, he didn’t acknowledge her. He just stared at the water, much like he did in reality when she’d watched him from her smoke and ashes for months. She couldn’t get inside the castle, but he’d left often, always going to the same shore.
“You’re not supposed to be out here,” came a whispered voice in her ear. Before she could make a sound, a hand slipped over her mouth while an arm banded around her waist. Herheels dug into the sand as she was dragged backwards, panic filling her chest. Touch didn’t burn in her dreams, but where she was being taken? She’d burn there.
The sand turned to stone, her heels scraping open, and right before the enchanted doorway took away her view of the night sky, the figure on the shore turned, and glowing silver eyes landed on her.
Chapter 14
Cethin
The sound of the bedchamber door opening down the hall had him glancing at the clock above the hearth. It was the early morning hours of dawn, when most people in Avonleya were only a few hours into their sleep. Despite ignoring him the rest of the day yesterday, he knew Kailia had only gone to bed a few hours ago. She might be avoiding him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of her every move.
Unsure if she simply didn’t sleep a lot or if it was something more, he stilled and waited. He didn’t hear footsteps, but he’d quickly learned she was incredibly light on her feet. Whether it was an Ash Rider thing or her own talent, there wasn’t a godsdamn sound to tell him if she was nearing or if she’d stayed in the bedchamber.
It wasn’t until he saw her in his periphery that he slid his piece of charcoal into the leather-bound journal in his lap and closed it. She slipped quietly into the room, leaving ashy footprints in her wake as she made her way to the windows. Pulling back a curtain, she peered out, but he didn’t miss the tremble in her hand as the fabric shook where she still held it.
Clearing his throat softly, he said, “I didn’t expect you to be awake so early.”
“Most places rise with the sun,” she murmured.
“Avonleya is not most places,” he replied.
She nodded, still staring out the window.
“But I suspect it is an adjustment considering you’ve been in the kingdom a year at most,” he added nonchalantly.
That had her entire being going still for a few moments before she slowly turned to face him, the heavy drape falling closed once more. Any satisfaction he’d briefly had at throwing this at her to catch her off guard quickly faded as he fully took her in.
The smoke in her eyes was swirling faster than normal, the amber in them almost completely obscured. Faint ashes flowed among her midnight hair that was a mess of tangles, as if she’d been thrashing around. She was still in her nightclothes—a black silk nightgown that reached the floor with thin straps at her shoulders and was more than a little revealing in the front. If it weren’t for the rest of her body language, he’d be far more appreciative of the attire. It wasn’t just her hand that was trembling, but her whole body shook with a faint tremor. Her breathing was a little too quick and shallow, and she kept reaching as if she was going to run her hands along her arms or torso but then stopping herself.
Haunted.
That was how she looked.
He stood, setting the journal on the side table, and she took a step back right into the drapery.
“Kailia…” he started, hesitating. He cleared his throat lightly again. “There’s a robe in the bedchamber for you. Several of them, actually.”
As if just realizing how she was dressed, she looked down at herself.
“I’m not cold,” she replied, her brows knitting together.
He paused, as confused as she appeared. “That’s not what I was suggesting.” When she continued to stare back at him, he added, “That’s rather revealing night clothing.”
“You are the one who ordered my wardrobe. If you didn’t want me to wear it, why did you provide it?” she asked, sounding exasperated. Then she lifted her arm, turning it to apparently…study her forearm?
This whole interaction was becoming rather bizarre, but by the gods, he was more than drawn in at this point. He found himself distracted, spending his time trying to come up with ways to figure her out rather than focusing on things that needed his attention. He’d already pushed off an entire council meeting, but every time he thought he was making headway, something like this conversation happened, making him realize he hadn’t figured any part of her out at all. She’d become an obsession—a distraction he couldn’t afford right now—and he needed to stop. He knew that.
But he also didn’t want to.
Her fingers brushed over her forearm before she looked him up and down. “You are still dressed from yesterday’s activities.”
“I am,” he agreed. He’d discarded his belt and boots, and his tunic was loose over his pants. Still far more casual than he’d ever be seen outside these rooms.
“And the other side of the bed was not slept on.” It was his turn to stay silent and hold her stare. “Where did you sleep?”
