Besides all of that, the monks here at Falkeron were renowned for their hospitality. Those intrepid faithful who made the trek here to pay tribute to the gods or to learn from the monks were welcomed, housed, and fed without question.
And yet a chill kissed my nape as our little boat approached the rocky, snow-dusted shore.
“Why do I feel like I’m being frowned at by an especially stern teacher?” Gareth murmured, gazing up at the monastery’s towers.
“Oh, not to worry, sir,” our hired sailor replied happily. She was a hardy, ruddy-cheeked woman who seemed more at home on the water than most people did on land. “The Cloisters cut a mean figure there—as they should, I would say, so as to remind us of the mighty power we come from—but the holy fellowship is always happy to receive the faithful. In fact, the Blessed Abbot is quite famous up here for his beef stew. Warms you up fierce on these winter nights.”
“I do love a good stew,” Gareth replied.
“As does anyone with a pulse and a brain, I would think, sir.”
“Indeed.”
As they continued their conversation about stews—which was their favorite, and why, and what ideal “stew weather” was, and various notable stews they’d each consumed—I resisted the urge to reach over and wipe Gareth’s glasses clean. It had taken us all day to reach our destination, and we’d been lucky; only now was it beginning to snow. Fresh, fat flakes dotted his fur-trimmed hood, and melted onesspattered his lenses, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I both envied and resented his ability to act as though nothing had changed, as if the world we occupied today was the same as it had been yesterday.
Yesterday, I’d been determined to quash any and all feelings of love for Gareth Fontaine.
Today, no matter how diligently I tried to steer my thoughts elsewhere, I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on my body, his lips on mine, how his voice had fractured around my name as he’d finished inside me.However many days are left to me, I will love you for all of them.
That memory, more than anything else, was the one that made my chest quietly seize up every time I came back to it. I closed my eyes, the harsh sea wind nipping at my cheeks.
What would this mean for us?
Would the days ahead now become even more difficult to bear?
I knew how Gareth would answer that question:What if loving each other makes the days to comeeasierto bear?
Maybe my years in the Order had made me too cynical, but trying to wrap my mind around that idea felt like trying to grab hold of a wriggling fish. Last night, wrapped up in the haze of my desire, I’d relented in the face of his hopeful logic.
But now, in the harsh light of day, miles away from that cozy little cabin, it was taking all my strength not to let my thoughts tumble somewhere dark and cruel.
I was a fool for letting this happen.
If he really loved me, he would have abandoned the idea forever upon seeing my hesitation.
I was a fool.
We’re at war, and I cannot let anything distract me from my duty.
Someone will kill him, or me, and the one left alive will never recover.
I am a fool.
And so is he.
Our boat softly knocking against the wooden dock wrenched my thoughts back to the present. Gareth was already standing a few paces down the pier, looking back at me curiously.
I hefted my bag over my shoulder, offered the sailor a pouch of extra coin, and lightly jumped up onto the dock with a barely courteous good-bye. The sailor stared after me in wonder; I suspected not many of her passengers chose to eschew the ladder.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I muttered, joining Gareth. “She’ll remember us now.”
“Given our gorgeous faces, she would have anyway,” Gareth said lightly. “And besides, why does it matter? As far as I understand it, our mission isn’t covert. Unless you’ve neglected to tell me something?”
I bit back a curt reply. “I’ve kept nothing from you. I suppose I’m just not used to traveling like this.”
“With the man you love?”
