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“Arlo?”
“I’ll find you later,” he says quickly before stopping. “Unless you don’t feel safe with him and want me to walk you back?”
Kylian growls at his words.
“No, go before you catch a cold,” I say, and he glares at Kylian before taking off back up the path that led us here.
Once he leaves, Kylian stomps over to my discarded clothes, shoving them at me. “Get dressed.”
Hesitantly I take the clothes and quickly slip them on, all while Kylian glares. Once I’m dressed, he snatches my arm, marching us back to the castle.
The silence stretches all the way to our bedroom. Just yesterday, he was calm and caring. He walked fearlessly into a storm of my creation and kissed me so fiercely that my whole body and mind relented. Whatever drove him to save me from myself is gone now. There is no softness between us.
Once the door shuts behind us, I turn to face him.
“You didn’t have to humiliate me like that—”
“Humiliate you?” he cuts in, incredulous.
“Yes, dragging me out like a disobedient child!”
“You left without Eagan.”
I blink. “That’s what you’re upset about?”
His expression hardens. “What if something had happened to you?”
The question lands heavier than I expect. “I can take care of myself.”
“No,” he snaps. “You can’t.”
Anger flares. “I wasn’t in danger. I was with Arlo—”
“We’ve had Draven’s spies and fucking sirens come onto the island since you’ve been here. In the very fucking water you were casually soaking in.”
I falter. I didn’t know where Arlo was taking me at first, but he’s right, I should have thought about that.
“You think because you are with him, they won’t come for you? If they realize what you are, you know what they’ll do. Or did you forget already?” he demands.
“You’re not even angry about . . . what you saw?”
His gaze flicks to me. “Do not mistake restraint for indifference.” The words send a shiver down my spine. “I am choosing,” he continues carefully, “not to do something that would hurt you.”
My chest tightens, and I can’t seem to find my words.
“Next time,” he adds, voice dropping, “take Eagan with you.”
I just stand there, the damp fabric of his cloak clinging to my skin, my hair still dripping onto the stone floor as the weight of everything presses in at once.
I let out a slow breath, some of the fight draining from me, replaced by something heavier, something harder to argue with.
“Fine,” I finally reply.
His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before he exhales and turns away, dragging a hand through his hair like he is trying to gather what little control he has left.
“Go shower,” he says coldly, turning to walk away. “Before you catch your death.”
I glance down at myself, only now fully registering the cold that has settled into my bones, and my skin has started to pebble beneath the dampness.
