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Joel led his horse into the pen beside Nyana’s house, throwing hay into the trough before brushing the creature down for far longer than necessary. The long, even strokes against the gray, dappled fur refused to ebb the pounding of his frantic heart.
What was normal again?
In all his life, he’d never been placed in a position where he was living with the woman he loved in a platonic relationship.
His wife.
He rested his forehead against the horse’s back, and the creature nickered quietly before it resumed consuming its meal of hay in the waxing darkness. Not a sound stirred within earshot, causing his pounding heart to increase in volume in his ears.
His wife. His stepchildren.
What do I do now?
He turned his head to watch as a silhouette moved past the kitchen window and back again. A yearning for his new wife burned within his core. Scorching. Smoldering. But he attempted to smother the flames and stomp his feelings into the ground.
“I can’t do this,” he breathed.
The horse’s ears flicked back as he listened, though he continued munching on hay.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he murmured, “Why must I torture myself like this?”
To marry someone who might never love him back? How could he willingly fly into this spider web and allow himself to get sucked dry?
Because it’s Nyana.
He blew out a long breath before rounding the house to ensure his new family was safe from whoever wished Nyana harm. There were no new footprints or signs of the intruders.
And when he stopped on the front porch, he raised his hand to knock, then lowered it again. Uncertainty warred within him as he raised it again, only to freeze with the door opened to reveal Nyana bathed in the light glow of a lantern.
“You live here now, Joel.” Her mouth twitched in amusement. “You don’t need to knock.”
“Are you sure?” When she nodded, he stared down at his nervous, shuffling feet. “I just wanted to say goodnight. I’ll sleep out here again, and in the morning, I’ll—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded, opening the door further. “Our arrangement isn’t completely one-sided. I made supper for you. I also set up a bed beside the hearth to keep you warm.”
Surprise lit another fire within his heart as he cautiously stepped inside the house. Sure enough, several furs lay on the ground beside the glowing hearth while a steaming bowl of stew sat on the nearby table next to a slice of bread and glass of water. Laughter echoed from the kitchen from both Maisy and Eva, a comforting sound in a strange, new arrangement.
Nyana curled into an armchair, appearing so small as she cradled her own bowl in her lap. Without his glamour working its magic on her, the bruises on her face were visible once more.
Despite them, she was beautiful.
“I thought we could talk.”
“About?” Every fiber of his being wanted to curl up next to her with her in his arms, but he lowered himself onto the adjacent sofa and took a bite of the stew. The heavenly broth touched his tongue, along with tender carrots and perfectly soft potatoes. A contented sigh escaped him. “You are an amazing cook. I’ll be honest. I can get used to this.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know how to braid hair. I assumed you could cook, too.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you not get a good look at my botched attempt of a pie? Nana handles the cooking. I don’t like to go near the stove if I can avoid it.”
When her mouth twitched again, he silently cheered in his mind. Someday, he planned to make her smile. Eventually, a laugh would follow.
“That’s what I wanted to talk about. From what I understand, you left your family and came back to Heulwen to help Calle take the throne.”
Simultaneously, he nodded and inhaled the stew.
“Why did you stay?”
He choked on a piece of bread, his eyes watering as he gulped down water from his glass. Even when his coughing died down, he refused to glance her way. She already seemed to know the answer to her question. He was reluctant to confirm it.
