“No, Elodie.” He smirks. “It is not.” My breath catches at his response, his voice lower and dripping with something I haven’t seen from him before. I lose my grip on my dress as it falls briefly before I catch it.
“I’m just going to—” I raise his cloak in the air and nod to the side. He observes me as I slip the cloak over myself, making sure it’s fully covering before slipping out of the dress. It swamps me, hanging below my knees and smelling of him. Of pine and leather. Giving him an awkward smile before stepping into the bed and pulling the covers over myself. He removes his shirt slowly, not in any attempt to impress, just the absent movement of a man used to shedding his armour. The low light of the room gathers along the lines of his body, shadows carving definition where muscle meets bone. He has the type of body shaped by years of discipline and bruises, pale lines of scars cutting across his ribs. I’m shamelessly staring at him before I look up to his face. Our eyes meet briefly before I snap my gaze away. Trying to focus on anything but him, the wall, the floor. I don’t think I haveeverfound a floor this interesting before. Drawing a quiet breath and hiding my hands under the blanket, I look back at him. He’s still watching me, not smirking or amused, just watching. His eyes are darker now, unreadable, and for a second I’m frozen in place as he stands there, silence stretching between us. His jaw tightens before he moves closer, stepping into the bed beside me. We both lie there in silence, and I know if I stretched my hand a little further, it would brush against his.
“Rowan,” I break the tension.
“Elodie,”
“Why did you get me those overalls?”
“You needed some more.”
“Why did you get my name embroidered?”
“So you have something that is all yours,” he says simply.
My pulse stutters.
The gesture is not something I would have expected from him. It’s something he clearly thought about and chose for me.
“Even though I am trying desperately to return home?” I whisper.
“Wanting to leave doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to belong. You can belong somewhere, even if it’s only for a short while.” My throat tightens at his words, my thoughts returning to the dinner earlier this evening. I don’t belong, of course.
It’s not my family.
How would it feel to belong?
To have someone waiting for you at home?
Then my thoughts return to my conversation with Mara and Kael.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I ask, “Who is Masen?”
The question hangs between us.
I don’t dare move my head to look at him so I remain with my gaze firmly planted on the wooden beam that runs along the ceiling.
“He was one of us. Me, Masen and Kael. We were brothers,” he says, his voice tight.
“What happened to him?”
There’s a pause, long enough for me to think I’ve asked too much of him. The rain patters softly against the roof as his breathing shifts. But then his cold voice slices through the air.
“I killed him.”
Chapter 12
Rowan
I don’t elaborate.
I simply let the words sit between us, heavy and unmovable. Elodie doesn’t push me for more, and for that I’m grateful. I have learnt to forget, to hide my feelings and focus on my duty. To serve the King, protect the castle, and be a leader to those below me.
It’s what I’m good at.
Shadows stretch thin along the walls, and I hear her breathing even out as I stay wide awake. Sleep has never forgiven me, not that I deserve it. Masen always used to say the hardest person to forgive was always yourself. I didn’t know then how true his words would become. A soft sound leaves Elodie’s throat as she shifts in her sleep. Her brow creases briefly, her eyes shut as she turns towards me, her shoulder pressing into my side. I freeze, my arms hovering above her. She moves again, her head resting on my chest as her hair brushes against my throat. It smells of crushed leaves and lavender. It catches me by surprise, and before I know it, my arms wrap around her as I draw her in close to me. And for the first time in years, the tightness in my chest eases. The guilt, the pain, all of it quiets, and I sleep.
