“I’m sorry,” Neirin said, his tone gentle.
Whatever fire I had before was extinguished. Everything was laid out now. “As am I.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
I blinked, my eyes dry and weary.
“You look exhausted.”
Shaking my head, I considered. “I got about a hand’s worth last night.” Each night since I returned from the festival, my nightmare had haunted me. The grip of fear, fingers clasped around my wrist, pulling at me. A woman’s scream.
“You need rest.”
Irritation firmed my jaw. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you care.”
“Why would you believe I don’t care?”
Perhaps the guard was right. Perhaps I did need sleep. Everything was simply too much to make sense of, and for the time being, I was done trying. Despite cutting my outing with Ruairc short to walk alone for some time and clear my head, I felt just as lost as I had when I woke. For lack of a better way to express myself, I turned to frustration.
“I don’t belong to you.”
“No,” he agreed.
“No?” I challenged, tone sharp.
“No, you don’t belong to me. Were you not listening?”
I shook my head, exhaustion slackening my shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“If my kind is the spawn of greed, if my monster is a reflection of my own darkness, and my strength only a crutch for my inadequacies, then there is no reason you would belong to me. You could have anyone, bear a child with anyone, as you said. If anything, it is I who belongs to you.”
I was too tired to grasp the depth of his statement, my mind too heavy. I let out a breath, and Neirin came around the side of the table to stand beside me.
Caging me with his right arm on the table, he lowered his gaze to meet mine. “I’ve never desired a woman before you, only sought them out for their attention because, gods, I felt lacking. But with you …” His tone grew heady, and though he didn’t lean in or push himself on me, his presence enveloped the space between us. “My body burns for you, Evera.”
Who had given him my name? His last statement simultaneously sent a coiling warmth to my center and a trickling unease down my spine.
“You were meant to be something I chose for myself.” My voice cracked. “The carver, he—” I was rambling again, but I was beyond caring. “Obscurity … that is what I wanted with you. Not this.”
The bell on the shop door rang, but Neirin held my gaze.
“You have to go,” I said, forcing my voice to be firm.
A muscle twitched at his jaw.
“Neirin, you have to go. I want you to go.” My voice caught, betraying my emotion. Another moment under this weight, and I would be unable to breathe. I could not handle Aureus discovering this, not now.
Finding my strength, I gathered Neirin’s basket and shoved it into his arms. I thought to make a comment on his trespassing, but my desire for him to leave before Aureus caught us together was greater than my irritation at his intrusion.
Above his dark brows, Neirin’s hair was a tousle of thick and glorious silver waves that looked significantly better than it had the last time I saw him. I stared a moment too long, the desire to run my fingers through it nearly winning over. I stood on my tiptoes, even as I knew better than to offer any sign of affection that might lead him on, and drew his hood up, using it as an excuse to experience the brief brush of his silken hair. My heart leapt. When I dropped my hands and took a step back, neither of us broke the lock of our gazes.
The bell rang again, and my brother’s voice came from the front of the shop as he greeted a customer. I let out a shaky breath.
“Go,” I told Neirin. “Through the back door.”
“Can I see you again?”
I shook my head, words eluding me. Was I doing as my brother always claimed I did—leaning into stubbornness when things became heavy? Was I pushing Neirin away to salvage my already-limited independence or for some other reason I could not yet articulate? Bitterness burned at my throat. Was there no situation where I could avoid marriage? Whether it be to the guard or the shoemaker.
