Blood of the Guardian (33 page)

Her heart choked in her throat. He’d never told her that before. She nodded, unable to speak, and opened the door.

She strode across the stones of the throne room, ignoring the guards. She needed to get away. As soon as she passed the large doors, she ran out of the castle, across the courtyard, and out the main gates. A few soldiers tried to address her, but she ignored them and picked up her pace. Finally, outside the walls of Faylinn, she sprinted across the field toward the trees.

Chapter Thirty-One

DAMAGED
.

The word seemed to make so much more sense now. Nolan had said Emery thought he was too old and too damaged to marry her. His words had confused her at the time.

He’d served in the Rol’dan, but she hadn’t imagined what else could’ve happened to him while he’d served. The way he trembled when they talked of Alcandor’s chambers, the way he withdrew from any physical touch … It was so clear now.

Megan found the old willow tree, the one she often went to outside of Faylinn. A large rock rested next to it, and a trickling stream droned in her ears. She sat on the rock and stared at the cattails along the bank of the creek. A carpet of last fall’s dried leaves spread around her.

She came here often to think—and to cry. Today, she did lots of both. She’d pitied herself these last few months, never imagining why Emery rejected her, why he’d flinched at her touch. He’d been abused, too.

Not just one day and night, like her, but perhaps for years. And here she’d been trying to force him to notice her, guilt him into being with her. He probably hurt more on the inside than she ever did.

After a few hours, a Perception Rol’dan appeared at the edge of her clearing. The man said nothing, and he simply nodded to her and disappeared into the woods. More than likely, Emery had ordered him to see if she was okay. Little things reminded her how much Emery
did
care.

She pulled a branch from the tree, stripped the leaves off the narrow wood, and threw them into the river. She watched the leaves float away with the current until they disappeared around a bend.

He
loves
me. He loves
me
. Nolan had told her he did, but to
hear
it from Emery’s mouth was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Her heart ached for him and his pain, and her own seemed lighter now. She could get past all this, the horrible memories, her fears of the child inside her, as long as he loved her.

After a while, she stood—her backside hurt from being on the rock so long. She pulsed Healing, ebbing the pain away, and she strolled through the woods, humming as she went. Her hum then transformed to song.

She would make this work between them. She needed to be patient and understanding. But most of all, she wouldn’t force him. She’d work, instead, on showing him how much she cared.

As she cut across the field to the castle, the sun sat low in the sky. She’d been out for some time now. She entered the gates and was met with friendly nods from the guards.

Passing the throne room, she noted it was empty. She stopped by the kitchen, grabbing meat and cheese, before taking the servants’ stairs to her room.

When she entered, a fire was already lit. Emery lay on the bed, fully dressed. His circlet lay askew, and his feet hung over the edge. Megan pulled off her shawl and hung it on a peg. She went to him and saw he was sound asleep.

Unlacing his boots, she tugged them loose. He didn’t wake but did stir. She set them near the wall, slipped the circlet from his head, and placed it on the side table with a quiet
click
. His eyes popped opened. She froze, not breathing. Then gradually, his eyes drifted closed again.

She released her breath and fetched a blanket Emery typically used for his bed on the floor. He’d folded it and stored it in the cupboard, away from questioning eyes. She draped it over Emery and then slid in next to him, holding her breath. She settled in, doing her best not to move the bed. Laying her head on the pillow, she faced him.

The remainder of the sunlight faded, allowing the firelight to send shadows flickering in the room. Hesitantly, Megan brushed a lock of hair from his face.

When she had first met Emery, it had been for the sake of her brother, Flann. Emery had found Flann, like he often had done with others. He’d sensed Flann’s dormant power and come to their home after seeing him in the village. He’d talked with her family, and her father had agreed to come with Emery to the village.

At the time, Megan was only fourteen years old. But even then, she couldn’t take her eyes off the mysterious stranger, the one with the kind eyes and intense stare. His black hair and beard were trimmed to perfection like he kept it now. Except lately, gray hairs invaded the black. It made him look … noble.

After they went to the village, her infatuation with him grew. His leadership. His selflessness; he always put others first.

And when Megan’s father was hurt a year later … She sucked in a breath, remembering the accident. She’d finally come into her Shay of Healing. But even then, it was too late. Her father had died. She’d had the ability to save him but didn’t realize it until it was too late.

After, Emery had soothed her, stroked her hair, told her she’d be all right, that it wasn’t her fault. At that moment, her infatuation with him had turned to love.

Emery’s eyes fluttered open and met hers. He blinked, disoriented at first, and then he pushed up on the bed. “I’m sorry. I must’ve drifted off.”

She pulled him down, using his sleeve as a handle. He didn’t resist, as he was still not fully awake. “Stay here,” she whispered. “Just sleep.”

Before he could protest again, she grabbed his hand in both of hers and pulled them under her chin. He tried to escape, but she tightened her grip and closed her eyes, hugging his hand to her chest.

Finally, he relaxed. His weight sunk back into the bed. And as she fell asleep, she could feel his eyes resting on her.

***

When she woke, she lay in the same position, still clutching Emery’s hand. Sunlight shone through the window, revealing morning had come. The cool room gave evidence that the fire had long since gone out. But his hand was still warm in hers.

She moved her eyes to Emery and found him watching her, as if he’d never stopped. One side of his mouth quirked. “You have quite a grip.”

She considered letting him go, but instead, she drew his hand closer and grinned. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better,” he said. “Didn’t realize how hard the floor was.”

Some of the darkness under his eyes had faded, but the worry lines around them still hadn’t gone away. He moved his hand slightly. “I think it’s gone to sleep.”

She let go reluctantly, and he slid his hand free. Wiggling his fingers, he massaged it with his other hand. “You’re stronger than you look.”

She chuckled and pulled the blanket to her chin, staring at him. Strands of hair stuck up on his head, giving him a boyish look. When he’d finished inspecting his hand, his eyes moved back to her. He averted his gaze and cleared his throat.

“It’s probably late,” he said.

“It’s okay. You needed the sleep.”

“Yes, but I might’ve gotten word.”

“And I’m sure if it were important, they would’ve sent someone to tell you.”

He smirked. “Besides, Alec is probably missing his pastries.”

Her eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Of course!” he said. “I’m the king, aren’t I?”

Megan harrumphed.
Traitorous servants.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he said, smiling. “The only reason I found out is because the first time you took my plate by mistake.”

“Your pastries? You couldn’t eat all of those.”

One eyebrow rose. “Oh?”

They stared at each other, smiling. She hadn’t been this relaxed with Emery in quite some time. Ever since they’d planned their wedding, conversations felt awkward. This morning, a spark—plus more—returned to them. She reached to touch his face, but his hand caught hers. The moment was gone.

He inhaled and released it, but she didn’t move her hand. She gave him a pointed stare, letting him know she wouldn’t back down this time.

Finally, he released her hand and tensed. She continued moving forward, her fingers creeping toward his face. Hesitantly, she reached, tracing a finger across his jawbone. He inhaled sharply, unmoving. Then she dropped her hand to the blanket.

He released his breath, avoiding her eyes. She could feel a comment on his lips.

“It’s okay, Emery. I know why you can’t.”

His eyes shot up. “Did Nolan—?”

“No,” she said. “I figured it out on my own.”

He rubbed the edge of the blanket in his long fingers.

“I won’t give up on you,” she said. “We’ve both been through a lot. You deserve to be happy. We both deserve to be happy. I won’t let you shut me out.”

He pursed his lips, still avoiding her eyes. At least he didn’t object or run away this time. She reached, touching her hand under his jaw. He flinched and tried to tug away, but she pulled his face up to look at her.

Pain and shame painted his expression. She smiled and then leaned forward and gently touched her lips to his.

It was like kissing a statue, hard and unmoving. Then he stopped resisting, and his lips softened. Hesitantly, he started moving with her, their lips molding to each other. Her heart raced, but she broke free, wanting to leave him before he left her.

He stared at her, his breath coming slow and long. That was their first
real
kiss. Not stiff and functional like the others, like the one he’d awkwardly given her at their brief ceremony, or the one prompted by Alcandor’s lust.

And he’d kissed her back.

A knock sounded at the door, light but urgent. Emery blinked, breaking free from the moment. He slid from the bed and went to the door, cracking it open so small she couldn’t see who stood out there. She smiled; he was acting like they’d been doing something naughty.

“Yes?” Emery said.

“Your Majesty,” the voice said. “General Trividar has returned.”

***

As soon as he closed the door, they both jumped up and threw on their clothes. Emery did so behind the shelter of the dressing screen.

“Are you ready?” Emery asked.

“I may need some help,” she said.

He poked his head out cautiously.

She gave a hesitant smile. “My buttons.” She pointed to her back.

He nodded and stepped forward. Turning her back to him, she revealed the long row of buttons down her dress. She was exposed, but she hadn’t purposefully chosen the dress for that reason.

She stood there, waiting. Finally, his fingers touched her. She inhaled and held it. He didn’t linger on the job, but it did take awhile. Occasionally his finger would accidently brush her back, sending jabs of sensation up her spine.

When he’d finished, he stepped away. She turned to face him, and he had the strangest expression on his face. Part fear. Part want.

She covered her mouth, blocking the grin. “Thank you.”

He nodded, recovering, and strode toward the door. He didn’t wait for her this time and emerged on his own in the hall. She slipped on shoes to go see what had happened to her friend.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“WHERE IS HE?” Alec asked, holding a pastry near his mouth.

Megan shrugged. “He should be here soon.”

She’d been so excited to see Nolan she hadn’t expected to find him in such a horrible state. Clad only in a grimy loincloth, his stomach was a mass of scars, and his hair hung in dirty strands. And to top it off, he hadn’t smelled so good either. If he weren’t the only huge, half-Guardian she knew, she might not have recognized him. But what really unnerved her was his expression: the joy seemed to have gone from his eyes. She’d never seen him so sad and defeated before.

“When did he get back?” Alec asked.

“Not long ago. Give him a few minutes.”

Alec fidgeted with the edge of his blanket. Every few seconds, he’d glance toward the door.

“He’s cleaning up,” Megan said, trying to reassure him. “He needed it. I’m sure he’ll come here when he’s done.”

Alec pushed up, as if going to go find him. Rayen, who sat by his side, gave him a gentle shove back down. “Rest,” she said.

Alec cursed. “I’ve
been
resting.”

“Rest more.” Rayen smiled. The longer she stayed in Faylinn, the more the Talasian girl revealed her emotions. Being away from her people seemed to help her.

Megan couldn’t help but wonder what impact her newfound emotions would make on her people. She was queen now. If she grasped emotions, what ramifications would it bring to her land? Would this be a turning point for Talasi? Or would they hate her, believe her weak, and overthrow her?

Alec handed Rayen one of the pastries.

She took it, staring at it as if it had legs. “Why you eat this?”