Ethenn’s heart squeezed with sudden understanding. Same as Bastien Muirren, he was trapping a woman into marriage with him simply because he wanted her. It didn’t matter that Ilain didn’t love him; he was allowing her to sell herself for the success of the Alliance’s plans. She deserved so much more. A man she loved. A Warrior of value worthy of her. An honorable man who could lead justly beside her.
But Ethenn was a murderer. He was a wretch. And he was no better than Bastien.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
After joining her family and friends in the tavern, Ilain settled in the seat next to her brother. In her absence, the others had finished their dinner, and many young men had filtered into the tavern. Most of them were of a medium or dark complexion and quite short. They made her feel rather tall, since she was their height or more.
As she settled in, Vayden leaned over to Ilain and whispered, “Where’s your husband?”
Ilain accepted the tankard of ale from the waitress, resigning herself to the simpler offerings of the countryside. “He isn’t feeling well,” she told him casually.
Vayden raised an eyebrow as Isla sat forward across the table from him. “Was it the stew?” she asked.
Ilain smirked. “No,” she said in amusement. “It’s a lie. He’s up to something, but I’m allowing him to think he’s gotten away with it.”
The couple chuckled, sharing a look. “You’re a good wife,” Vayden said lightly, lifting his ale.
“I’m an inexperienced wife,” Ilain replied. “But I have the age to offset my ignorance. Ethenn doesn’t lie maliciously; whatever he’s up to, I trust his heart.”
“That is very good of you,” Isla said. “Few women are so confident in their husband’s intentions.”
“The intentions of very few men are entirely pure,” Vayden quipped.
“Though you are wholly virtuous, my love,” Isla replied.
Vayden gave her a flirtatious grin. “Not wholly,mi’amená.”
Ilain mocked a gag at the suggestive nickname. “Anyway, I’ll let him do whatever he thinks he’s keeping secret, and since there is no doubt I’ll catch him on his return, I’ll find out what it was.”
“Perhaps it is a surprise for you,” Isla suggested. “This is his hometown, is it not? Maybe he hopes to introduce you to his family. Or to bring you a gift of significance.”
“I had considered it,” Ilain admitted.
However, she’d also considered that his lie was likely to pay his abusive uncle a visit. She rather hoped so. Ethenn deserved to shove his good fortune in the old blighter’s face. Though Ilain somewhat wished he had taken her with him so she could give the man a piece of her mind. And perhaps a burn scar or two of his own.
Ilain smiled to herself at the thought. She sipped her ale—wincing at the malty taste—and let her thoughts drift as her brother and his wife returned to the conversation with their friends.
There wasonealternative that Ilain had considered. One that made her heart dance and her stomach flutter.
“In Estshire, there’s a forest with a hidden glen that’s filled with gilda lilies.”
Ilain felt her cheeks heat. It was possible that Ethenn had gone off to prepare a romantic escapade in the woods. She certainly wouldn’t turn down such a gesture. And it would be the perfect setting for her to tell him the truth: She loved him.
Ilain had come to that definitive conclusion eight nights ago. When he’d told her the story behind his scars, something within her unlocked. Like the heavy lock within the Keeps’ iron doors, it opened with a resoundingthunk. While she had thought shemightlove him before, that story, along with the deepened understanding of him, made her heart squeeze and her lungs weaken. More than anything, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms and heal all his wounds, the ones she knew and the ones he’d yet to reveal. He’d lost so much. He’d been hurt so much. She wanted to care for him and love him—not for her sake but for his.
Ilain knew, at that moment, she would do anything for Ethenn. If his happiness meant vengeance on his uncle, she’d burn the man to ash. If it meant razing Trollenston to the ground, she’d find a way. If growing an entire garden of gilda lilies in memory of his lost parents would soothe his pain, she’d spend the next ten years of her life dedicated to the study of Terrae magic and sprout an entire, eternal mountain of the flowers (though he’d have to show her what they looked like first).
If Ethenn Loxley asked her to forsake the Alliance and give up the position of Highlady Chancellor to move to the forests of Estshire...
Ilain stared at the ruddy-colored ale in her tankard. Her heart stilled, knowing she would do it. She would leave behind everything she’d worked toward for the past thirty years because she loved him more than anything else in this world. And she would not sacrifice him on behalf of the Alliance.
While the others continued their evening revelry, Ilain excused herself at last. She climbed to the room they’d reserved on the second floor of The Shepherd’s Rest, finding it empty, as expected. It was a simple room. The bed was narrow, though built for two, and covered with an ivy-patterned quilt. Athreadbare rug was draped over the warped wooden floor. The only other furnishings were a singular nightstand, a large trunk for storage, and a small, upholstered chair.
Habitually, Ilain began preparing for bed. Though she had no way of knowing when Ethenn would return, she saw no reason to wait around for him. If he were preparing a tryst in the forest, it would be better to be in her nightclothes anyway. If he’d gone to deal with personal business, she might as well prepare for his arrival and welcome him back with open arms.
Once clothed in her nightdress, Ilain laid out her dress for the next morning. While traveling in Wauld, there had been no reason to change for the night. She’d worn the same clothing for weeks on end. An experience she never desired again.
Now that they were in Ephria, regularly able to stay in inns, she took the luxury of fresh clothes seriously.
