Page 113

Warmth, along with the scent of eucalyptus and fir needles, engulfed her senses, drawing out a contented sigh. Subconsciously, her body curled towards the heat, and her racing mind quietened as she turned. Rymedur’s warm breath fanned her cheeks as he let a sigh slip from his slightly parted lips. He settled further into her, nuzzling at her neck.

Turning to lie on her side, Areanel watched as he leaned in her direction. His head was on her pillow; arm wrapped around her—reaching out for her—even in his dreams. Gods, she loved him. The thought turned her small smile into a toothy grin. She was glad he was with her.

Gently, so as not to wake him, Areanel let her fingers rake through the tangled mess of his midnight-blue locks to move the damp strands away from his face. Her nails lightly grazed his scalp, eliciting a soft groan from his lips. Again, he pulled her further into his space, making the itchy blanket beneath them scratch her skin. She didn’t mind it, though.

Lifting her leg, Areanel draped it over Rymedur’s, finding a more comfortable position. Now, with her pressed flush against his bare body, Areanel couldn’t stop the urge to reach out for him. It felt right. It felt… natural.

Her fingertips brushed a path along his jaw. Up, her fingers danced across his sharp features. Features she had memorised. The tips of her fingers skimmed a line down the jagged scar that slashed his brow, missing his left eye and ending just below his cheekbone—the skin tight and tender. Following the path down, a complete contrast to his scar. The slight stubble along his jaw felt rough against the pads of her fingers. Had it really been almost two weeks since they’d left Andrea?

Running her fingers across his cheek, Areanel stopped on the spot she knew where his skin would dip into a dimple—her dimple—one he would share with her when he gave her that bright, wide grin she had fallen in love with. Brows pinching, Areanel lightly poked her index finger into where the dimple should have been, hidden by the day’s old stubble. She’d have to ask Caius where he kept his smaller blades. Maybe she could shave it? That would certainly keep her mind occupied from the grey cloud threatening to dampen her mood.

Shaking her head, Areanel huffed a quiet laugh to herself. Delirium seemed to be finally settling in.

Nuzzling into Rymedur’s warmth, she continued her path down his features until she reached his mouth. With her thumb, Areanel swiped along the bottom of his lips, and a rush of heat had a flush racing across her body. The sudden memory of the sounds she had elicited from those sinful lips only an hour ago darted through her mind. The reminder of his weight above her had her breath stuttering. All thoughts of impending doom and what ifs, chased away by the thought of him. The feeling of his bruising grip around her wrists and the way his moans had vibrated against her throat were still branded in her mind and, she was sure, deep in her soul. Tamping down the heady thoughts as a new pool of heat settled in her core, Areanel allowed herself a moment of hesitation, then pulled herself away before she gave into her growing desire.

Slipping out from under Rymedur’s tight hold, she quietly shuffled to the edge of the bed, but a sharp tightness at her wrist startled her. Areanel glanced down, expecting to see Rymedur’s hand, and marvelled at the sight of a swirling dark spire circling her forearm.

Dragging her curious gaze from the swirling darkness to Rymedur, Areanel noted the unmarked skin above his heart where a small whirl of shadows used to rest.

Lifting her arm so that the shadow was in her line of sight, Areanel whispered to it. ‘Now, what do you think you’re doing?’ Her gaze flicked between the shadow and Rymedur, who remained sound asleep. Good. The shadow reared up, its movements snake-like, as though repeating her question.

Over the twenty years Areanel had known Rymedur, she had learned to read his shadows. And she did it well. They did not speak to her, but their actions often spoke volumes. She found it was their way of communicating—a language of sorts.

The shadow’s gesture had one side of Areanel’s lips tipping up as she let out a soft chuckle. ‘Very well,’ she dipped her head to whisper at the little shadow, ‘just don’t wake him.’

With a final glance at Rymedur, as though contemplating waking its master, the shadow settled against her skin and curled around her forearm.

Areanel shook her head in amusement at the good little soldier. Of course, his shadows would be as protective and affectionate as he! Rolling her eyes at her sleeping husband, a soft smile appeared on her face. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stretching her limbs, Areanel let out a quiet huff at the delicious soreness aching between her legs. The reminder had Areanel peering over her shoulder at Rymedur again. She wanted to smooth the crease in his brow with her fingers, but knew that if she gave into temptation now, there would be no going back.

Instead, she pulled the discarded blanket up over Rymedur’s naked body. Placing a final kiss against his shoulder, she allowed her lips to linger for a fraction longer, and his frown slowly receded. Areanel took in his peaceful expression before pulling away completely.

Stepping around the bed, she searched for her clothes, her only light being the thin streaks of moonlight visible through the ragged curtains. Careful to step around the haphazardly strewn boots, Areanel reached for a bundle of fabric. She was sure Rymedur had thrown her clothes in this direction… though, they had been so desperate to take them off, she wasn’t sure. Had they started at the desk, or was it the door? The bed, perhaps? Areanel sifted through the bundles until… Ah ha! There it was!

Finally pulling the shirt from the ground, Areanel moved to put it on, but something yanked it taut. Brows furrowed, Areanel tugged it one more time. She must have used more force than necessary because something rolled and thudded, sending the things on the desk rattling and tipping over.

Swiftly, Areanel managed to catch the fountain pen before it tumbled over the side of the desk. With slow motions, she peeked over her shoulder. The steady rise and fall of Rymedur’s chest told her he was still fast asleep. Areanel returned the pen to its place and moved to turn away, but the swirl of shadows curled against her arm wiggled itself free. Pressure tightened around her wrist as the inky shadows raised their head, seemingly pointing beneath the desk.

With tentative movements, Areanel reached below the desk only to feel a rough piece of wood dangling at an odd angle. That hadn’t been there before, right? She would have noticed it sooner. Perhaps it had come loose last night when Rymedur had taken her on the desk? It was a rickety old thing, after all.

Gently, Areanel gripped both sides of the splintering wood and pulled it close, arms straining as she tugged it free. Heart leaping into her throat, she was suddenly flooded with memories. She had been in this position before, hadn’t she? It felt the same as it did when she was a child, but…

No! This wasn’t her parents’ room, she reminded herself. This wasn’t her father’s desk.

Still, her heart rate quickened as dizziness took over and memories ambushed her. There wouldn’t be any punishment for this. Anxiety vibrated in her bones, sending her nerve endings buzzing. Something awoke in her mind—a distinct presence prowling along the edges; a wolf’s eye slowly blinking open. Her bonded once again reacted to her rising heartbeat.

Trying to calm her racing thoughts, Areanel focused her attention on steadying her breathing until that awareness drifted back into sleep. Let them think it was nothing but a nightmare. Her children were their priority, not her.

Click. The sound of a latch coming undone chased away any thoughts of the past, much to Areanel’s relief. She had no desire to relive that day, even in her memories.

Shaking herself, she focused on the feeling of the aged wood, using it to ground her in the present. Areanel couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but reaching forward, she sifted through the drawer's contents, pulling out each object her hand touched. One by one, she placed them on the desk until the entire drawer was empty. What the hell? It was understandable that Caius, a spy, would need a false drawer, but its contents had Areanel perplexed.

With what little light the moon provided, Areanel investigated each article with furrowed brows. Her hand traced the worn parchment; the scribbled penmanship looked familiar, each letter at the end of a word concluded with a slanted flick, as though the writer had hurriedly jotted their thoughts.

Areanel could barely see, but managed to make out a mixture of measurements, materials and oddly drawn shapes that overlapped, written on the edges of the paper around a diagram of what looked like a large tank-like contraption. The tip of Areanel’s finger followed the repeated pattern along the base of the tank, the paper rough against her finger as she traced the straight lines that were meant to be etched along the creation’s bottom. Were they meant to be some type of runes? She had only ever seen them etched into the handle of weapons or during a mating ritual; though, it wasn’t very often that this was done, as most of Idyssa had forgotten the old ways.

Still, Areanel had never seen it done like this. Not in this manner.