I know that feeling as well.
Finally, he speaks, the battle won. “Have dinner with me.” He’s trying desperately to regain his composure, to return his voice to its normal tone and cadence, but it only half works. It’s half “have dinner with me,” half “come to bed with me.”
He found a middle ground. Something between what he truly wants and what he knows is best. I admire that. It’s a sensible thing to try, a de-escalation of whatever it is that’s happening here without running for the door entirely.
But I can’t stay. I shouldn’t. I need to leave; I need to get out of here and clear my head, to think about what’s happening before I do something—“Alright,” I hear myself saying.
What am I doing?
Is this his magic? Is it the reason for the pull he has on me?
“No,” I say more firmly than I truly feel. “I don’t know. I need some air.”
“Come,” he says, andgodsdammit,did he have to say that word?
“Did you have to say that word?” My eyes widen as I realize I’ve said that thought out loud.
But wonderfully, miraculously, it fixes everything. It’s so silly, sostupid, that he can’t help but laugh, and finally, blessedly, the tension breaks.
Kerensa, thank you for helping me in my hour of need.
I’m back in the room. I’m back on solid ground. I feel the cool stone through my thin sandals, feel the cool breeze from the open archway.
That’s where Ronan leads me, straight past the shelves full of insights into Ronan’s character that I might have been able to explore if I could’ve kept myself together for five fucking minutes, past whatever hidden doors the servants use that I could have been finding if I’d rememberedanythinguseful at all, and through the archway onto a balcony overlooking the sea.
It’s an incredible vista, of course. Deep blue water stretches to the horizon, a streak of gold shimmering in the last light of the setting sun. Rocky cliffs jut out from the sides, lending the balcony their natural protection, although we’re up far too high for anyone to climb anyway.
It would be difficult to access his chambers from here. Difficult, but not impossible, I realize, as I see other balconies to the sides.
“What are you thinking?” he asks me, and my thoughts scramble, trying to land on something connected to my feelings but not quite so incriminating.
“I’m wondering whose rooms those are, and what they did to earn the view.”
Gods, what a dumb question.Possibly anything but, I don’t know, waging a war against his throne?
He looks at me quizzically. “You know, I never wanted to read thoughts until I met you.”
A strange thing to say. “What do you mean?’
He leans over the railing, and I join him, doing the same. At a safe distance. “Usually I can guess what someone’s thinking by the feelings that they have. People aren’t terribly complicated. The feelings they have are largely the same. Anger, fear, joy, anxiety, desire.” His eyes flash to mine on the last word, and I’m desperately willing the blood in my neck to stay there and not rush into my face. He swallows, tilting his head to cover the movement. “It’s not hard to connect their feelings, to guess at the cause of them. Sometimes it’s the sequence of them that gives them away, sometimes it's the things they say, even if they don’t match the way they feel.”
He turns to look at me and then shakes his head. “But you’re a mystery to me sometimes. It’s infuriating. I can feel so much from you. Gods, it’s like you’re shouting at me with everything you’re feeling, but I have no idea what any of it means.”
“I’m shouting at you with myfeelings?” That doesn’t seem good.
He laughs. “I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose. But when you’re in the room, it’s like I can feel no one else. It’s nice,actually. My power—it can be overwhelming when a lot of people are around. You quiet the noise.”
I smile a little, and he leans a little closer. He looks so lovely in the dying sunlight. It catches the gold strands of his hair and illuminates them from behind, casting a faint glow around him.
Or maybe it’s his own internal glow. It’s hard to tell.
“If you want to know what I’m thinking, just ask,” I say.
“Will you tell me the truth?”
Not likely, but maybe sometimes. “I’m shadow-born, like you said. It’s in my nature not to.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
