I drew a curl from in front of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. My gaze fell to the faint bruising at her cheek. I released a breath, the moment stifled by remembrance of what had led us here. “You should be able to defend yourself. That is worth more than the opinions of strangers.”
Evera held my eyes. Again, the emotion from before swelled from her. It was an emotion that my monster never communicated to me. Something warm, thick … I was unsure of the feeling.
She held out a hand and, with drawn brows, I took it.
“I am Evera,” she said. “I have no family name, no crest or sigil, and I have a despairingly meager dowry. But now you have my name. I choose to give it to you. I hope it is enough.”
“It is everything.”
The amusement in her eyes fell away at my vehemence. As if she expected me to laugh at her gesture. But this was what I’d been waiting for. For her name. For her to give it willingly.A flutter filled my chest. Exciting, terrifying, weightless. I rose so that our chests met, and I threaded my fingers through her hair.
A slight gasp escaped her before I stole the sound with my kiss. The touch was light, intimate. When she gaped her lips, offering an invitation, I took it—slowly, though, not wanting to rush this moment. She melted against me, matching my pace, and when the kiss broke, she rested her forehead on mine.
“Evera,” I said her name and cupped her cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips once more before drawing back to study her with the need to memorize every detail; the dappling of freckles across her nose, nearly undetectable in the shadow of the setting sun; the curl of her lashes, a shade darker than her hair. “Youare everything.”
When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “How? How, Neirin, when we’ve known each other less than a fortnight? How can I be everything to you?”
“I do not know,” I admitted, guilt stinging. The words had come to me before I could consider them, weigh them. They were spoken from my heart. “In truth, it terrifies me. But I cannot deny it.”
Evera returned her forehead to mine and made a small, contented sound. All the response I would get, I suspected.
“We should return,” I told her after a moment.
“Must we?” There was a sadness to her words that ached at my heart. But we could not stay here, not without the necessities to make a fire or some form of shelter. And not along the main road, in sight of any travelers who passed in the night.
“We must,” I told her and brushed a kiss to her nose.
She giggled at the gesture. When her amusement shifted into a broad yawn, she fell against my chest in an exaggerated manner and nuzzled at my neck, humming.
I wrapped my arms around her, cupped the back of her head with one hand, and rubbed her back with the other. “Are you sleepy, Evera?”
“Are you going to overuse my name now that you have it?” Her voice was muffled against my neck. The brush of her lips sent a sudden jolt of desire through my body, and I breathed in deeply to settle the stirring. It was not the time. Her body needed to heal from the day. And, in truth, I did not want to cheapen this night; something told me that taking her so soon would do just that.
“I am,” I teased. “Come now, let’s get you back. You need rest.”
The rideback into town was quiet, late enough in the day that the petrels had retired to their nests, yet early enough that the crickets had yet to begin their chirping. A chill had set in with the coming night, and I held Evera close to me, wrapped in my arms. Against her neck, I sighed, and she giggled. “That tickles.”
I laughed and repeated the action, this time with a breath that fogged her skin. She squirmed, a slight whimper escaping her lips. “I thought it tickled,” I chided, resting my chin on her shoulder to keep the moment light.
She hummed contentedly, and quiet befell us again. Alongside the road, the cliff’s edge was nearly indiscernible as the night darkened; the colors of the sunset were long faded.
Despite Evera’s warmth against me and the moment’s intimacy, a twinge of unease itched at my subconscious, a nagging reminder of how fleeting this all was. With it came a tugging at my heart, a hope that the huntsman would return sooner than he’d anticipated so that I might return to the castle, assure my brother’s safety, and unravel the deceptions. Yet, in the same breath, I longed for moments just as this one, as many as time may grant me.
Evera leaned her head back, and I brushed my cheek up the side of her face, letting it rest atop her brow. Though this was all so new and held no logic, I could not deny I was falling hard for her—for her smile and the way it lit her eyes, for the depth of her caring when she let her guard down, for her fire, her cunning, and her sharp wit. For the way she drew me from my burdens.
Waves crashed against the cliffs below, and ahead, light illuminated the windows of shops and homes as we drew nearer to town. I nuzzled into Evera’s hair, breathing in her scent. I’d said no more secrets, yet she still did not know the truth of who I was, who my brother was. It wasn’t that I sought to keep the information from her. It was more than the day had already carried such heaviness.
“Evera,” I started, my chest constricting as I settled on honesty, on having no more deceptions between us. “There’s something you must know.”
She tilted her head back, and I met her eyes. Even in the shadows of dusk, they sparkled with light. The image of her on the ground before the farmhouse ached at my gut.
“What is it?” she asked, tone languid, relaxed, as she melted against me.
I set my eyes on the horizon. Fear of her response quickened my heart. “My brother, he—”
“Evera!” A man’s call interrupted me, and I shifted my attention to find Aureus standing before the inn.
Evera tensed in my arms, and I brushed my lips against her temple.
