She nestled back, resting her head on his shoulder, relaxing into his embrace. “I like it,” she agreed.
“Missing home?” he asked gently.
“Not exactly.” She huffed out a breath. “I miss the mountains sometimes, but mostly I like the space. I like the quiet, the break from all the chaos inside. I like the cold and the fresh air.” She twisted so she could look up at him. “Would it help if I told you that when I lived in Castle Duneidyn, I used to stand on the battlements and look south?”
He smiled down at her. It did help. He wanted her to be happy, to have what she needed.
“How’s the pea?”
She rolled her eyes. “Apparently she likes apple pie for breakfast.”
“Then apple pie she shall have,” he agreed seriously.
Keely laughed, settling her hands over his and holding him against her belly as she turned back toward the river. “You came in late,” she said softly.
Tor dipped his head so he could speak softly beside her ear, even though they were far from any guards. “He was able to get away for half an hour.”
Her body tensed in his arms. “And?”
“He’s in.”
“Good.” She softened slowly. “And he’s working with… her.”
“Mm-hmm. He’s still not pleased.”
“Do you think it’ll be okay? The two of them working together?” she asked.
Gods, he hoped so. “I think she’ll be good for him—the first woman he’s ever spent time with who can hear a lie—or maybe they’ll kill each other. One of the two.”
Keely chuckled in agreement, and then grew more somber. “I wish this was over.”
“Me too.” He wished it was over more than he could begin to express. Sneaking around and spying was not his way, and he was so tired of violence. But this was his mission. He had the best insight into Andred, the best chance of predicting what the Wraiths would do next. And someone had to liaise with Reece and Daena.
He let his cheek rest on the top of Keely’s head, the silk of her hair soft against his skin. Reminding himself of why he needed to do this. Exactly who he had to keep safe. And remembering why he’d come to find her.
“Would you mind looking at something with me?” he asked. “In our room.”
Keely let out an inelegant snort. “Don’t tell me… it’s your great… big… sword.”
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
They walked, hand in hand, along the battlements and back into the castle, down the stairs and along the corridor to their suite.
It was the longest walk he’d ever taken. Each step felt like a thousand miles, the seconds counted out in the heavy thuds of his heart. His palms were damp, but he didn’t dare to let go of her hand to wipe them. Instead, he forced himself to relax, to keep his shoulders down.
She loved him. She chose him. It was going to be fine. Gods.
He desperately wanted the relief of cracking his knuckles, but that would be even worse than wiping his palms.
They made it to their door, and he opened it for her, swallowing heavily. She stepped through, her eyes on him as he locked up and turned to face her.
Keely arched a fiery brow. “What did you really want to show me? And why do you look like you want to puke?”
Gods, this woman. He gestured across the room. “It’s on the bed.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all—” Her words faded away as she turned and saw the large wooden box.
It was about the length of his arm, carved from oak and stained jade green. The color of her eyes and the knotwork around her biceps. Mathos had helped him find the best woodcarver in Kaerlud, and the talented Mabin artist had captured the towering mountains and rolling northern forests as if he’d flown over them himself. Perhaps he had.
