She was torn between weeping and howling, so she chose the most sensible reaction which was to do neither.
“But I’m nobody—”
He reached over and pulled her into his arms. She would have pointed out that he was robbing her of her ability to breathe, but she realized fairly quickly that he was the only thing holding her inside herself.
Her world was suddenly ripped from her as if by claws. She was beyond weeping, beyond fleeing, in a place so far beyond fear that she wasn’t sure she would ever feel anything else.
And the only thing keeping her from shattering was a man who was capable of creating and destroying horrors that she had never seen even in her worst nightmares.
“That’s why you made me do all that,” she said, finally, her words muffled against his shoulder.
“Aye.”
“And why you used all that…”
“I want him to know exactly what I’m capable of,” he said harshly. “And what I will do to him if he harms you.”
She laughed a little, wondering if it sounded as unhinged to him as it did to her. “A hero from Neroche could not have been more chivalrous.”
She wasn’t sure what to call the noise he made, but it was a decent mirror of the anguish she felt.
He held her for so long, she wondered if the rest of the afternoon had passed and night had fallen. She closed her eyes, pressed her face against his neck, and simply shook.
She realized he was smoothing his hand over her hair, as if he sought to soothe her. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“Thank you.”
He pulled back, kissed her quickly, then stepped away.
“Strong drink,” he said firmly.
She looked at him. “I can’t believe this, you know.”
He hesitated, then shook his head wearily. “He doesn’t want me, Léirsinn.”
“How do you know?”
“Because last night I stepped outside my spell, faced him, and he only yawned. He heard your voice and things changed.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He doesn’t want me.”
She caught his hand before he passed her. “I can’t do this,” she said, then she paused. “How do I do this?”
“How like you,” he said quietly. “Testing the ground, then rushing out to stomp the bloody hell from it.”
“Why does everyone want me dead?”
He smiled without humor. “I honestly don’t know, love. You haven’t done anything to merit it.”
She sighed. “I apologize. I said that unthinkingly.”
“Oh, I’ve earned the ire of those who would like to see me breathe my last,” he admitted. “You, on the other hand, haven’t. Perhaps your uncle hired that man out there because he thought you would one day rise up to challenge him for his hall.”
“Fuadain has sons of his own.”
“Sons can be poisoned.”
She gaped at him, but he only shrugged.
“It has been done before. I’m guessing your uncle wouldn’t be above it. I’ve found that men who suspect terrible things of others generally entertain those same thoughts themselves in the dead of night.”
