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"Stay," he says the word softly, somewhere between a plea and a command.
Either way, I am powerless to refuse him. I nod wordlessly, my gaze sliding unbidden to his massive bed.
"We are both exhausted. I only meant to sleep." His voice is cautious.
I haven't turned to face him, and I know that he has misread my anxieties entirely, but I don't correct them. Because as close as we came in the caves, I don't know if that's something I can give him, or something I can take from him when I know so much better than he does how our story will end.
There's no way I can sleep in my heavy furs, though. I debate for a moment going back to my room for my nightclothes, but he has shown me a rare moment of vulnerability. I am unwilling to burst this precarious bubble we’ve found ourselves in, to do anything that might change his mind.
Besides, he has seen me bare more than once already, lain next to my naked form, and has never made a comment about my scars.
All of those reasons make sense, but I am not a good enough liar to convince myself they are why I don't leave this room.
Chapter Forty-Eight
My hands snake around to the buttons at the back of my shirt, and I hear a muttered curse. I turn to face him only to see that he is digging around in the drawer of an armoire. He holds a hand out behind him with some sort of garment in it.
"I said I was tired, Zaina, not a eunuch,” he groans. “At least wear one of my shirts."
An unexpected laugh escapes my lips, because he has still not turned to face me. I have been forced to use my body as a distraction, a lure, a weapon. I never thought I would find myself feeling gratified by a man's reaction to it.
Still, I decide to show a little mercy on him and take the shirt he has offered. I finish disrobing and throw it over my head. It reaches to my knees, and the gap with the laces is nearly at my belly button. I am still drawing them in to tie them when he turns around.
His lips part, and he shakes his head.
"I'm not sure that's better." He rubs a hand over his face, letting out a low chuckle. "Just... Get under the covers."
It’s freezing in here, so I am quick to oblige him. The furs on his bed aren’t as heavy as those on mine, but they are still exponentially warmer than the air outside. Khijhana crawls up into his plush armchair as if she owns it, and he groans but doesn't tell her to move. It offers the tiniest fragment of relief, knowing that he will take care of her when I am gone.
I am providentially distracted from that line of thought when Einar reaches for the hem of his own shirt. He may have been a gentleman when the tables were turned, but I greedily soak in the sight of him, knowing what a limited time I have to admire the hard planes of his abdomen and the clearly defined V that leads into the soft trousers he decides against removing.
I force my eyes to travel upward, my gaze snagging on the small, unusual golden key that hangs from his silver chain, before finally lifting to meet his own amused eyes.
I smirk at him, and he sighs, looking skyward as though looking for assistance. Finally, he climbs into bed. He stays so close to the edge, I almost laugh again at the lengths to which he is going to behave. For my part, I'm somewhere between appreciating the gesture and being utterly baffled by it, but I also know that the last thing I need is something else coming in to complicate my feelings even more.
We stay like that for a moment, both lying on our backs and gazing up at the ceiling, neither of us anywhere near sleep from the sounds of his breathing, before he abruptly rolls over onto his side to face me.
He is still a solid couple of feet away, but I swear I can feel the heat emanating from him. He studies me, and I can see a question in his eyes.
I shuffle a bit closer, close enough to be within arm’s reach, rolling over as well to face him.
"What are you thinking?" I whisper.
His behavior tonight has made me bolder than usual.
Instead of answering right away, he cautiously moves a hand toward my face. His fingers gently play along the chain that leads from my nose to my ear.
"I was wondering about this. It's unlike anything I've ever seen, even in pictures from the Eastern Lands." On the way to the alchemist’s, he had been interrogating me, but I sense nothing but genuine interest from him this time.
"It's...a symbol of purity," I try to phrase it delicately. "Normally, it would be removed on the wedding night.” I hedge, trying not to think of the way I stood naked before him and the way he’d refused me, trying not to think of every inch of his bare body pressed against mine in the caves. “But since ours didn't go exactly according to plan..." I can't help the small wry laugh that escapes my lips. “I suppose I have just gotten used to having it on. Besides, I assumed no one here would know the difference."
He matches my laugh with a chuckle of his own.
"Nothing about our wedding went exactly according to plan, though, did it?" He grins down at me. "It didn't help that you were late."
"I was not!" I say with some offense.
I am never late.
