She pursed her lips in an angry pout, and the effect was so adorable that he laughed. “Perhaps, but it’s much more effective at keeping me warm when disagreeable giants pull me into a lake.”
“Do you often plan for that contingency?”
“I will now.”
Sometime over the course of the week as they had grown more comfortable together, they had slowly shifted from opposite sides of the fire to sitting side by side. He leaned over and flicked the end of her hood.
Lindy swatted his hand away, and the movement caused her hood to fall back. Her hair, still damp and stringy, had molded to her head under the weight of the fabric, and there was a smudge of dirt on her chin, but she looked so open and at ease as she teased him, her eyes dancing with the laughter that he now knew sounded like music and her cheeks flushed from sitting close to the flame, that his breath caught.
How had he never noticed just how beautiful she was?
Misreading his expression, her hands flew to her hair, and she started shoving her fingers through the ends, lifting it away from her scalp. She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I must look like a mess.”
He shook his head, murmuring, “You don’t. You’re beautiful.”
His words apparently fell on deaf ears, and she continued to feverishly rake her fingers through her hair. He reached for her wrist, clasping it gently. “Lindy.”
She tensed, drawing her shoulders up to her ears as she sank into herself and squeezing her eyes shut before Atlas realized his mistake. He immediately let go, but when she opened her eyes again, the light from before was gone.
Anger, deep and smoldering, burned in his chest, and he wished he could find the person responsible snuffing out her light and give them a piece of his mind.
Preferably with his fists.
Lindy crossed her arms and glared at him defiantly. “I’m allowed to touch my own hair.”
He recognized her defenses, knowing she was choosing to fight rather than show weakness, and forced his own expression to clear. “I’m not angry with you, Lindy. I’m angryforyou.” His words were thick with emotion, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep them from reaching for her. “I’m angry at the person who taught you that you aren’t allowed to be vulnerable and imperfect, who taught you to expect pain instead of gentleness.” His eyes searched her face, hoping that somewhere in her fierce expression he would find answers, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Who hurt you?”
“Does it matter?” Her words were distant and hollow as she turned to stare sightlessly into the fire.
“Only because I would like to know whose home I’ll have to pull down around their ears.”
She laughed bitterly. “I don’t think even you wouldbe quite capable of that. They build castles in Nedra specifically to withstand sieges.”
The implications of her words were a slug to his gut, acting as a bellows to the angry fire still simmering in his core. He cursed. “Who said anything about sieges? I was thinking more of a rampage.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Language, sir. What would Ms. Fumley say?”
“She would flick me in the mouth even while silently agreeing and then offer to help plan a coup.”
“A coup?” She raised an eyebrow. “King is a rather bold step up from hermit.”
“I don’t want to be king,” he said quickly. “But no man who would raise a hand against his own flesh and blood is worthy of wearing a crown, and no country deserves a king like that, either.”
He could see the sheen of tears reflected in the firelight as she pulled her gaze away. “And who would you set up as a ruler to replace him?”
“I don’t have a lot of connections, but I do happen to know a queen.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want it, either. If I never set foot in Nedra again, it will be too soon.”
“Then I guess we’ll leave them in chaos to sort it out themselves.”
“No. Philip doesn’t deserve that.”
“Who’s Philip?” He kept his tone light despite the irrational twinge of jealousy.
“My brother.” Lindy pulled her hood back up and drew her knees to her chest. “He was an unexpected surprise—the heir my father had given up hoping forwhile he punished us for not being. He’s a sweet boy; I felt bad for leaving him on his own, but once he was born, my presence in Nedra became superfluous.”
Atlas frowned, doing his best to read between the lines of what she was saying. “You were going to be queen.”
