Page 118 of The Silversmith

The warmth of his exhale covered my skin with goose bumps. “Everything that is good.”

Tears welled in my tired eyes, the shuddering in my chest pounding against the tightness of my throat. That tug was a thousand times stronger than my fear of disappointing Simeon. Stronger than the fear of whatever consequences might befall me should Elias Winterton discover my heart’s secret. I would marry my betrothed, perform my duties. Hopefully, I could learn to be fond of him. That would have to be good enough.

As Gavin and I laid together, the desperate silence between us spoke a pleading shout that pierced the grating darkness of this world and crushed the burden of expectations. I felt the responding ache in my chest, and though I didn’t know much about love, I wondered if what I felt for him was something like it.

I needed one more day.

“We’ll arrive in Brinnea today?” I quietly asked. After counting the days back, I realized what day today was. The winter solstice.

“Yes. About a five-hour walk from here.”

“Can we put off meeting Simeon until tomorrow?” I asked. “I know he might be expecting us, but Finn said there are grand celebrations in Brinnea, and I’d like to see them… with you.”

A long pause ensued. The anticipation beat my stomach to a pulp until finally, he answered, “Yes. Whatever you want.”

I let out a tattered sigh of relief and tucked his hand into my chest.

Minutes later, it was me who climbed out of bed and suggested we better start moving. I had a small headache from last night’s overindulgence, but I was grateful. Without the bread and water he’d forced on me, it would have been much worse.

After I stood, his palm rested where my body had been. The flames beneath the hearth warmed the faded pine floors. I padded over to the sack that contained our food and unwrapped a bread roll. I filled a glass with water, sat down in the chair in the corner, and looked up to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me. The longing in his eyes cut through my stomach like a knife.

My cheeks heated. “What?”

“Nothing.” But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The floor creaked beneath his feet as he strode over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself some of Damond’s potent liquor. His eyes were colder. Distant.

“Isn’t it a little early to have a drink?”

He shrugged and took a sip.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked, frowning. “The solitude? The traveling? The fighting? And—” I followed the glass to his lips. “The way it makes you feel?”

“Yes.”

I chewed and swallowed another bite of my roll. “What do you think about to keep yourself going?”

One more sip and he was done. “I think about finding you that day in Warrich.” He set his glass down with a forceful thump. “I think about how the people who were supposed to love and protect you starved the light and life right out of you just so that they could rebuild you however they saw fit, and it becomes very clear to me, again and again, why I’m still fighting.”

My brow furrowed. “You didn’t even mention Molochai.”

“I don’t need him to rile me up when your puppeteers do a fine job of that all on their own.” The words cracked out of him like an angry whip.

“I’ll be okay, you know.” But he cringed at my words. “I’ll—”

“Why didn’t you try to heal yourself?” He gestured to my side. “With your power, you could have.”

I leaned back in the chair and shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. But even if I had… I think healing takes something out of me. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t help Caz after saving that boy.” Another shrug. “I’d rather save my ability to heal someone who truly needs it.”

Broad shoulders sank from my answer. The wrong answer, by his reaction. His jaw pulsed as he considered my words. Three long strides and the space between us disappeared. He squatted in front of me, large hands on my knees. “I want you to promise me something, Aryella.”

“What?”

“I don’t know all of what this world—this war—will require of you, but I fear there will come a time when you feel the need to sacrifice yourself—in one way or another—to save others. I fear that your power will take too much from you, and that you’ll let it.” He cupped my face and a familiar heat pulsed through me. “Promise me you won’t.”

I thought of Caz and Marin and their baby. Of Gemma, Finn, Ezra, even Elowen.

Of him.

“I don’t want to promise that.”