* * *
The room had darkenedexcept for the light of the moon through the domed roof. Evren laid on the floor in the same spot as he had the past several nights while the Enchantress peacefully slept on the sofa.
As much as he hated to admit it, her presence was a comfort and a welcome distraction to the treachery brought down on him with no drink. It’d been five long days, and he felt every one of them. It was in his head; swimming with anxious thoughts. In his hands; they trembled and shook against his will. In his restlessness, his body could not understand the need for sleep when the need for ale was much stronger. All consuming to the point of insanity.
And he swore he would have already plummeted to those dark depths of madness if it hadn’t been for her. He chalked it up to needing to get her healthy for King Roman. That’s all this was.
He glanced up at the Enchantress sleeping soundly on the sofa. Her lips pouted as if her dreams were unsatisfactory.
Probably not many happy moments to be thinking of.
Many times, he’d considered leaving to seek Davenport. It was on his mind even now as he laid awake on the stone ground. But whenever he’d put one foot toward the door, the Enchantress would invite him to join her on the sofa for a round of stories and his mind would shift back. She’d laugh and his heart would squeeze. She’d look at him and all thoughts of leaving would vanish. She’d trusted him today in a very real and vulnerable way.
That made him hate himself further.
She’d trusted him to help her, and it was a trust he didn’t deserve nor one he could reciprocate.
He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. He had an oath to uphold and no reason to still be here. No reason he couldn’t take her to Valebridge and acquire the bounty he sought.
The rational part of his mind screamed at him to leave with her now, collect his coin, and go. But something else stirred in him he didn’t recognize. Something deep and foreign.
He replayed the feeling of his hands in her hair. The fire that erupted on his fingertips as they grazed her neck. He replayed those moments over and over until they made him question his entire being.
Rolling over, he faced away from the Enchantress. He needed to clear his head.
Though, despite it all, his gut had already decided her fate for him. He wouldn’t leave her here unguarded, and he wouldn’t take her to King Roman. At least not yet. Not until he figured out what this feeling was. What it could mean.
He was powerless in this situation, and he hated it because whatever part of him that stirred restlessly, he was beginning to think only she could control it.
Thirteen
“Just try again,”Evren pleaded. It’d been Tallulah’s third attempt, and she still struggled to stretch her arm fully. “You have to begin moving it or it won’t heal properly. If you keep coddling?—”
“I’m not coddling it,” Tallulah snapped, sinking back into the sofa. She ran a hand down her face, partially out of frustration and partially to conceal the tears.
She wiped a rogue tear away, and Evren’s face fell.
Shewascoddling her arm. She wasn’t sure if it was because it hurt or because she knew that once it healed, he’d send her to Valebridge. To her fate. Her death.
“All right.” Evren sighed and took a step backward, then sipped from one of Tallulah’s mugs—light blue with a gold filigree handle. It was one of her favorites; the light blue reminding her of a cloudless day. She’d found it in the greenhouse and had used it nearly every day since. When Evren chose it this morning for the pine needle tea she’d made them, it warmed her much like the tea itself.
She shivered, running her hands down her arms. The snow hadn’t let up all day and tonight would be the coldest of Winter yet. Another storm had begun, there was no denying that.
“If you don’t want to keep trying, that’s fine. All I’m saying is by keeping your arm locked in one position like that, you’re more likely to be sore.” He watched her cautiously over his mug.
Tallulah averted her eyes, not wanting to get lost in his like she foolishly had a few days ago when they’d been laughing over the plants.
“Fine,” she said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She cracked one eye open when she heard Evren shuffle toward the sofa. He sank down next to her, leaving his mug of tea steaming on the workbench.
“Let me help,” he said.
Her eyes shot open completely as her head snapped toward him. He looked genuine enough. His eyes had softened the last few days, even if he still had a nervous twitch about him. How is it that a line of sweat was always just above his brow when it was freezing cold in here?
Tallulah looked away again, not realizing how long she’d been staring. Before her cheeks could heat, she disregarded the interaction and sat straight.
“I don’t need your help.” She straightened her arm to stretch it fully. Pain shot through her elbow and cleared up to her shoulder. Wincing, she pulled her arm back close to her chest, exactly where she’d kept it since her injury. She had made a point since he washed her hair nearly a week ago that she simply could not ask for his help again. It was too vulnerable. Too weak.
Be strong.
