Page 64 of The Silversmith

“I can sleep on the floor,” I said upon entering, breaching the silence. “You have all done enough for me.”

Beside me, Gavin grumbled, “Don’t even think about—”

“Nonsense!” Damond interjected. My eyebrows lifted in surprise. He was the first person I’d met besides myself who dared to interrupt Gavin Smyth. “Do you take me as an unprepared host? This room is for the men. You and your saucy friend can have the room across the hall.”

“Thank the gods.” Gemma scooped up her belongings and disappeared.

Finn and Damond discussed the route we’d taken and our plans to go to Brinnea to meet Simeon after our time here. I got the impression they hadn’t known each other until today, but both Sinclair brothers were skilled at making fast friends.

While they talked, the knowledge of Gavin’s stare plastered my feet to the floor. I shivered, dreading the apathy I’d see if I looked at him. Regardless, I was unable to resist. I looked, only to find that the unfeeling ice from minutes ago was already thawing into silent regret.

“I thought you weren’t returning until tomorrow,” Finn told Damond, tossing his bag onto one of the beds covered in a blue-and-green checkered quilt. Caz took the opposite. Ezra gave Gavin a wide berth as he followed the others.

“Had a feeling I might be… needed.” Damond winked at me. He carried himself gracefully in black pants and a dark-green shirt. “Turns out I was right. At least one of you needs a tonic for a miserable attitude.”

Caz snorted. Gavin ignored the blow.

“I’ve heard Molochai’s men have been busy with their… displays,” Damond continued, leaning against the doorframe. The memory from yesterday churned my stomach. “Did you see anything?”

Finn nodded. “About a day’s walk northwest of here, a man strung up and gutted. Vile business.”

As promised, Gavin instructed Damond to send word for Elias to send help to the survivors in that village. Damond told me to consider it done.

“Thank you.” I took our host’s soft yet strong hands and squeezed. Being bold was a work in progress, but gratitude was easy. “For your efforts and your hospitality.”

“It’s an honor, my queen.” Damond smiled down at me, bright and genuine. “There’s another bathroom downstairs, if needed.” With a nod toward the hallway bathroom, he said, “It seems your friend has already taken that one.” He took a step back and gave another dramatic bow.

I left the men’s bedroom and crossed the hall to the one I’d share with Gemma. There was an oak four-poster bed large enough for the both of us, along with a matching wardrobe and vanity. The sheets were ivory and the blankets were red. Gemma had already taken the liberty of lighting the room’s fireplace. Before the hearth, a brown bearskin rug reminded me of northern Warrich. Gemma’s bag rested on a chair in the corner, already open and sifted through.

I started to close the door, but a large boot crossed the threshold, stopping me.

“Aryella, wait. Please.”

His deep, gruff voice stopped me in my tracks. I opened the door, and his sheer size crowded the entry. His handsome features were wrought with concern, the scar over his eye crinkling with his brow.

“I need to apologize.” His thick throat bobbed as he forced a swallow and stepped into the room. “I was—am—a fool. A hot-tempered, overprotective fool. You are not a child. You are not a pet. You are not a frail princess to be subdued and coddled. You’re a warrior. A queen. A woman with choices, desires, and thoughts—beautiful, intuitive thoughts. And you are remarkable. You are… breathtaking.” A crack rippled through my heart at his trembling voice. “But it has been a very long time since something—someone—has truly mattered to me, so you will please forgive me if I often lack the control and discernment to treat you exactly as you deserve.”

My lips parted in shock. His words, a panacea for my rage, began to restore me. Maybe a little too easily, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to be angry.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“And it is an honor to be your… friend.” He bit out the word like it hurt him.

It hurt me too. My heart despised the word and its simplicity, far too small to describe the familiarity and tenderness between us. But thousands of people needed me to be a queen. Innocent lives were at stake, and I couldn’t let myself consider the alternative. An alternative with him.

I vowed to keep telling myself that.

“Damond will prepare dinner for us.” Gavin shifted in the doorway—a subtle attempt to draw my attention back. “Take your time, freshen up. Bathe, change, relax. I’ll wait in the hall and go down with you.”

I nodded, but something else nagged at me. Someone else. Ezra.

If I had to stay within five paces of him and the others to stay safe, I would, but conceding to that necessity didn’t excuse what had happened to my cousin.

“Gavin.”

He returned to me immediately, dark eyes hopeful. “Yes?”

“You should apologize to Ezra.”