Hesees. He’s caught this moment of such mournful beauty, and it’s hooked me—caught me in the back of the throat and cast little prickles in my eyes.
Rhordyn spills into the room like a storm, and our gazes collide, holding for a few drawn-out seconds. Quicksilver swirls threaten to consume me, as does the sight of him standing there, soaking wet and fully clothed, yet somehow looking so incredibly exposed.
Every muscle in his body is outlined by the sodden material, and I find myself envying that long-sleeved, button-down shirt for the way it has a hold on him.
His eyes are wide and wild, every fleck in the metallic pools glimmering like stars cast in a smoke-filled galaxy. The twists of his hair fall in such nonchalant disarray they bear their own sort of perfection, dripping water upon his powerful shoulders.
He’s beautiful. Heartbreakingly so. And it’s my turn for words to be caught behind my teeth.
I blink a few times, severing my sight of him in a gentle way. Because I deserve gentle.
I deserve gentle when this man is so boldly destroying me.
Nose blocked, I tug the door and stumble into the long, cold hallway that lacks a heartbeat. A hallway that leads only to and from The Den—a path I’ve walked too many times to be healthy.
It’s not until I’m all the way up Stony Stem, body lumped on the floor against the closed and dead-locked door, that I breathe through my nose again. With it comes the unbridled tears that pull straight from my pitiful heart.
I’m in love with a man who’ll never be mine—who’s unavailable in every way, shape, and form—and I’m certain it’s going to ruin me.
Firm knuckles assault the door.
I feel it down my spine, all the way to my toes. I feel it in my bones and in my fucking soul.
“What?” I whisper, knowing who it is. I knew from the moment I heard his heavy feet ascending my stairs slower than normal, as if he were being cautious for a change. “It’s not feeding hour yet.”
Silence stretches so long I picture being tossed through the castle gate like a sack of grain.
There’s the faint clear of a throat, and then, “Funny.”
I thought so.
“I’m here to escort you to the Conclave,” he commands, and every muscle in my body tightens.
Nobody told me I was expected to attend. And the thought of facing all those people after what just happened in the gardens? Fair to say, attending the Conclave is at the bottom of my priority list.
“I think not,” I reply, gaze pinned to the open window. To the blanket of heavy clouds refusing to allow even a shaft of sunlight to split through and warm my skin.
Make me feel lessnumb.
“You think not?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I made youreffort,and it didn’t turn out so great. Hard pass.”
“Then I guess you’ll be hitching a ride over my shoulder.”
This asshole.
“My door’s locked for a reason.”
“And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve busted through it. Should I call the carpenter in preparation? It’s his birthday, and he’s spending the day off with his family, but I’ll tell him it’s urgent.”
“Leave the poor man out of this,” I mutter, glancing down at my clothes and realizing that in the time I’ve been sitting here, staring at nothing, they’ve almost entirely dried.
“Is—” I clear my throat, scanning the clouds again. “Is that male going to be there? The one who ...”
I grind my teeth, mind staggering back to the memory of those sounds splitting me apart strike by strike—of the familiar man with azure eyes and a sword hanging at his side.
I feel ...rattled. Not myself. I don’t know if I have it in me to facehimmost of all. Not after he saw me unravel like that.
