The dwellings up here look like warbly eggs—some tall and narrow, others short and squat—impaled by gigantic pines. At the base of each, wood planks starburst out from the trunk, creating a precarious walkway. Emlyn stops at a smaller one and leads me inside.
“This is my home,” he announces.
We’re in the only spot with space to stand upright, which makes up about half of the lowest level. The tree itself takes up much of the area, its trunk marked with ladder-like grooves to make climbing easier. The second level, at my eyeline, seems dedicated to storage.
“It’s… cramped.”
My mom’s house—which was always uncomfortably tight for her, me, and whoever she was currently leeching off—seems like a palace in comparison.
Emlyn scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t spend much time here. Just the rare nights where I’m in town and haven’t found someone’s bed to warm.”
I crouch, peeking around the tree trunk. A small, knotty table sits low on the floor, and shelves full of clay cups, bowls, and jars splatter the walls, the spaces between embedded with an impressive collection of rocks and shells.
The more I take everything in, the cozier it feels, but we’d have to find someplace bigger if I’m sticking around.
WhenI stick around.
“Where’s your bed?”
Emlyn points up, then starts climbing.
When he reaches the highest level, he pulls himself onto the edge of its floor, sitting with his legs hanging over the side as he looks down at me. I follow him up, and he scoots over to make space for me. The ceiling’s mere inches above my head.
Plush fur rugs cover the floor, basically turning the entire level into a bed—one that curves around the tree trunk in a way that makes sleeping in any position other than on your side impossible.
“It’s a good thing I like to cuddle.”
Emlyn chuckles before leaning into me. “It wouldn’t work. There’s nowhere near enough room for me to do all the things I want to do to you. It’d be torture.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’d like it if you’d be willing to stay here tonight, despite that.”
I slip my arm around him, a warm glow infusing my veins as I rest my head against his soft hair. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“WhateverIwant? Now I feel obligated to make you regret saying that.”
“You can try,” I whisper, pulling him in for a kiss.
As he lays me down, his lips claiming mine, nothing else matters—the cramped space, what tomorrow will bring—nothing.
Only him.
Come morning, I regret nothing.
Chapter 39
Ellie
Amid the pops and crackles of the fire, smoke swirls, softening the scent of manure and lanolin that’s been clinging to my skin ever since we arrived at Cadoc’s camp earlier today. Beside me, the warm light dances across Taran’s face, casting sharp shadows across his features.
An emptiness hung between us after we left White Spring, with him hardly saying a word the rest of that day. Once Emlyn and Reid disappeared to camp by themselves, I tried to get him to open up about what had happened—how he’d bent Merfyn—but he refused. All I could do was be there for him, curled up in his arms, until his gentle caresses lulled me to sleep.
The next day saw an improvement in his mood—I’d even say he was back to normal, except I don’t know what normal is now. Itfeelslike we’ve progressed to being in a relationship, but something’s off. An uncertainty, cutting deep in my chest. Having never courted anyone before, I have nothing to compare things to, but I assumed that after our first kiss, there’d be more of that. While he’s kissed my temples a few times, his every touch has felt hollow, and there’s been no attempt at anything more passionate.
And he looks away whenever I meet his eyes. As if my gaze burns him, or he fears what I’ll see.
I’m trying my best not to take it personally. His burdens must be weighing on him more than ever, with the betrayal, willbending, and facing his mother tomorrow. Whatever comfort I can give him will have to be enough; we can sort out the details of our relationshipafterI help take his kingdom back from his mother.
Not that I knowhowI’m doing that, and the ambiguity’s been eating me alive.
He’s tried to clarify my role, but the most we can get me to remember is that Reid knows what I’m supposed to do, so as long as I go to Taran’s old room with him and Aerona, I’ll understand when the time is right. Our host, Cadoc, will only be attending the wedding as a guest—he can’t risk his people with anything more. But six of them, whose loyalty he vouches for, have volunteered to back us up as we make our escape.
