Page 42 of Destiny of a King

Dravic watched, understanding her meaning without difficulty.

She turned toward the shelves lining the wall.

She reached for a small earthen crock on the upper shelf, her blouse growing taut at her waist.

Dravic’s attention settled on the narrow curve of her waist. A waist his arm had circled more than once that day and other days as well. A waist he had taken no notice of until now.

The thought came unbidden and he frowned.

Why should such a thing matter?

Adira lifted the lid from the crock and smiled faintly as the familiar scent of crushed herbs drifted into the room. She selected a small cauldron from the shelf, turned, and headed for the door, intending to step outside long enough to fill it with fresh snow.

She never reached the door. His hand closed over hers on the iron handle.

“Nay,” he said, shaking his head.

Adira’s gaze remained fixed on his hand, warm and firm over hers. He had held her hand many times before, yet this touch felt… different.

She raised her head, searching his face for an answer, but found none. The slight furrow in his brow told her he was as puzzled by the moment as she was.

Neither moved for several heartbeats before Dravic lifted his hand off hers, tapped his chest, then pointed to the door.

Adira understood he would go fill the cauldron with snow and she handed it to him. She waited at the door as he stepped outside, fearful he might get lost in the snow. He barely took a few steps before he scooped up snow in the cauldron.

She was relieved when he hurried back inside and set the cauldron over the fire.

Soon the snow began to melt.

Adira returned to the chair near the hearth and lifted her head to look at the king as he settled his cloak around her shoulders.

Dravic held her gaze for a moment, her gentle smile thanking him, while her eyes held a touch of confusion. It was not something he had never done before, though he had not done so in such an intimate setting.

He turned away, wondering over his strange thoughts and moved the other chair beside hers and sat.

He enjoyed sharing the quiet with her, but he had also come to enjoy talking to her. So, it was not long before he did.

“I have not traveled through Scotara in quite some time.”

Adira turned her attention fully to him. Though she could not hear him, she liked that he spoke to her as if she could, as if she were no different than anyone else.

“I ordered roads improved and shelters like this one repaired.” His gaze drifted around the cottage. “It appears at least one man carried out his task well.” His expression grew thoughtful. “A king places trust in those he appoints, yet there is no way to know with certainty that every order is carried out as instructed. Reports can be embellished. Failures concealed. Loyalty… claimed rather than earned.”

Adira watched him stretch his long legs out in front of him and his shoulders lose their tautness. He was at ease, comfortable as he often grew when speaking to her. It pleased her that he had come to find comfort with her. And strangely enough she was finding the same with him.

He fell silent for a moment, watching the flames shift around the blackened iron cauldron.

“It makes a man wonder how much trust should truly be given.”

His gaze lifted to Adira. She had not looked away. As always, she watched him with complete attention, following every movement of his face, every change in his expression, as though his words mattered even if she could not hear them.

He realized then that he had never questioned trusting her. Not once. The realization should have troubled him. Instead, it brought him an unexpected sense of peace.

When the brew was ready, Adira ladled it into two tankards, handing one to the king before returning to her seat with the other.

Adira’s attention never wavered as he continued to talk. Her eyes remained fixed on him, reading every movement of his face carefully, each expression carrying its own meaning. It pleased her that he continued to speak, never treating her silence as something that needed filling.

The last of the brew disappeared from Adira’s tankard and she lowered it to the floor beside her chair.