“No one has said that name for a very long time.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could drag the words back into my mouth.
His fingers lift my chin, firm but gentle. When I look at him, I expect anger. Instead there is only calm.
“I know you have heard the stories,” he says. “What they say about me. What they say happened to her and the others that night.”
My throat tightens. I don’t want to answer, not because I fear him, but because answering means admitting that he is capable of something so evil.
“Is it true?” I manage at last, my voice barely steady.
“Would you run from me if it was?” he asks, his gaze roaming over me as if he’s committing every line of my face to memory.
“You have saved me too many times for me to think you mean me any harm,” I mutter.
“Then let that be the answer,” he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “For now.”
For once, I don’t argue.
He eases me back onto the bed and then he lies down beside me, sliding one arm beneath my shoulders. I turn onto my side, curling into the solid line of his chest, as his other arm drapes over me.
“Will you stay awhile?” I whisper. “Until I fall asleep.”
He draws me closer, his hand threading slowly through my hair.
He does not answer.
But he does not move away, either. Not for the entire night.
23
Days pass.
Castle Frostwyn, which has existed for so long in a state of beautiful neglect, slumbered for centuries beneath the snow, finally wakes.
All because Lord Rourke and Lady Marlayna are coming.
Members of Lady Atilia’s court arrive first, their carriages cutting dark lines through the snow-choked road. They sweep in with lists and ledgers and sharp-eyed authority, taking stock of every draughty hall and sagging stair. Where once there was silence, there is now the murmur of voices and the clatter of tools.
Luceran brings labor in from the Aurevault, and when I see Pax step down from one of the wagons, I cannot hide my smile.
He lifts one hand in a quick, crooked wave when he spots me across the courtyard. We walk toward each other, weaving around crates being hauled into the castle, until we meet somewhere in the middle of the chaos.
“Nice place,” he says, glancing up. “I see now why you don’t sleep over at the Aurevault.”
I laugh lightly, then my attention catches on his arm. “You’re not wearing your sling. Are you feeling better?”
He nods, clenching his fist once. “Better enough.” His gaze drifts over the courtyard, the flurry of activity, the miners hauling tables and chairs up the stairs. “Poor bastards.”
I arch a brow. “Are you not here to carry heavy things up stairs as well?”
He lifts his chin, eyes sparkling as he grins. “Oh, you haven’t heard? I’ve been handpicked by Lady Atilia to serve the food. Apparently, I’m far too pretty for menial labor.”
“Are you now?”
He nods solemnly. “Oh, yes. If I were you, I’d jump on this opportunity before it gets away from you.”
I tilt my head, brow furrowing. “What?”
