The Forsaken King

“Ivory.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Huntley took me from Delacroix. We’ve been traveling together for a while.”

That seemed to be enough information for her to put it together, as if she knew about the mission Huntley had set out on. Her eyes had this knowing look, and the surprise slowly faded. “Tell him I came by. He knows where to find me.”

I never got dinner.

I sat in the armchair near the fire upstairs, replaying the interaction over and over in my head, her face still fresh in my mind even though hours had passed. I had an unsettling feeling in my stomach, a discomfort that gnawed at my insides.

My heart hadn’t stopped racing.

I heard the front door open and close, and then I heard his footsteps on the stairs a moment later. He appeared after a few seconds, already removing his tunic as if he couldn’t wait to get it off the second he walked in the door. Hard and chiseled, his skin was a second set of armor.

He regarded me in the armchair by the fire, and as if he could read my mood like every word was spelled out for him, his eyes shifted back and forth between mine.

I pushed myself to my feet and met him head on. “Your sister came by…”

His eyes immediately narrowed.

“You want a woman who says what she wants? Then tell me who she is.”

His eyes hardened the way valleys did after the sun had passed. The shadows invaded and hid their sight from view.

“Who she really is.”

He sidestepped me and moved to the edge of the bed. He took a seat, his breeches and boots still on, and rested his arms on his knees. His chin dipped, and he regarded the rug that cushioned the hardwood floor.

I pivoted my body to look at him and waited for my answer.

“I think you already know.”

Instinctually, I turned away, faced the fire because his face was too much right now. It gave me a chance to hide my composure, to hide all the emotions that flowed through my body in a rush. I felt my head shake automatically, giving a pointless disagreement. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My arms tightened over my chest, and I felt sick. Sick to my fucking stomach.

“To spare you.”

I shook my head again, my eyes watering.

“That’s not how I wanted you to find out—”

“Does she know?” I kept my eyes on the flames, watching them consume the wood.

“No.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

“The truth. The time has come.”

I felt the tears fall down my cheeks, felt my heart break in the most inexplicable way. There was no way to convey the way I felt, the disgust, the betrayal. My world had been shattered.

He came up behind me, his hands moving to my arms.

The touch felt good initially, but then it made me ache. I pushed his arms off. “Don’t touch me.”

He grabbed me again, and this time, he forced me to turn and meet his gaze.

With tears splashing on my cheeks, agony on my face, I felt so ugly.

He stared, his eyes shifting slightly to take in my appearance.

I averted my gaze because his stare was too much. I just wanted to disappear. Crawl under the bed like a child.

His fingers loosened on my elbow, and they traveled up my arm, over my shoulder, and then cupped my cheek. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip then over my cheek, swiping at a tear that was sitting there. “I’m sorry.”

My eyes found the courage to meet his again.

“Really. I am.”

EIGHTEEN

Huntley

At first light, I slipped out of bed and grabbed my pants.

She felt my absence the second I was gone, and her hand automatically reached out to find me. When she felt nothing but sheets and air, she opened her eyes to a squint. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.” I pulled my shirt over my head and shoved my boots on.

“That wasn’t what I asked.” Now she sat up in bed, her hair all over the place, her tits hard from the cold air. Her eyes remained in a squint, a little glassy because they were still tired.

I came back to the bed. “To talk to Elora.”

She didn’t give a hint of surprise, so that must have been what she suspected all along. “I want to talk to her too…if she’s willing.”

That conversation was inevitable. “Let me speak to her first.”

“Okay.”

“Go back to sleep.”

She lay down again and pulled the sheets to her shoulder. “I’ll try. Hard to sleep without you…”

I left the house and felt the cold air hit me right away. It was a lot more tolerable than the winter winds of the outpost, and it didn’t freeze my lungs on contact. I walked down the cobblestone streets until I arrived at her doorstep.

She wasn’t a morning person, but after what had transpired yesterday, I had a hunch that she was awake. I knocked, and after a moment, she answered.