AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When they reached his door, he unlocked it and pushed it open, gesturing for her to go in first. Wren stepped through, feeling the awkwardness build between them. The door to her room was still open from when they had left in the morning. Malaki took off his cloak and his sword, throwing them on the ground. His boots and clothes were still muddy from the earlier game, but he didn’t seem to notice as he walked across the plush red carpet.
Without preamble, he turned and looked at her. “I’m sorry.” His voice strained.
Of all the things that Wren had expected him to say, she had not expected the arrogant prince to invite her into his rooms to apologize. “Why are you sorry?” she breathed.
He ran his hand through his hair. “Because I don’t know how to protect you. Because I don’t have the answers you need. I thought, maybe Rose might help, but it only made it worse.”
Wren shook her head. It was odd he should choose to apologize for the one thing he shouldn't have. “I don’t think it made it worse. At least we have an idea of what could be happening.” She felt calmer than she should.
“Could be?” he questioned her, his eyes narrowing.
“Well, I don’t think you can just expect me to believe I am a reincarnated goddess because one old lady tells me so, do you?” She threw up her arms in exasperation.
He looked at her, painfully serious. “You are.”
She shook her head at him, suddenly weary of this conversation. “I don’t really want to do this anymore, Malaki. I am tired.”
She turned to leave, but he took a step towards her, as if he would physically stop her. She peered at him, a question forming in her mind. He had never seemed so unsure of himself and for that alone she paused, willing to hear what he needed to say if only to assuage her own curiosity.
Malaki ran his hand over his face as if he understood the opportunity she was giving him, but didn’t know what to do with it. When he finally spoke, it was without his usual confident cadence. “I know today was a lot. I know you may not be able to process it. I understand that.” Each thought was said carefully as if he were meticulously forming the sentences. “We don’t have to talk about it, but please let me at least make you some tea.”
A small smile played on Wren’s lips. “Is that something we do? Have tea?” She had meant the words to be playful, but his face hardened.
Wren instantly regretted the words, only wanting peace between them. Taking a deep breath she took a seat at the small table and looked at him expectantly.
Tension fell from Malaki’s shoulders as he moved about the room, preparing some concoction of tea he kept with him. Wren had expected him to call for a servant, but apparently he had been serious when he had said he would make it. Wren realized that there was much she didn’t know about him and for some reason the thought wasn’t as unsettling as it should have been.
Wren murmured a smallthank youwhen he set the tea in front of her, before taking his own seat. She lifted the steaming cup and the smell of orange and bergamot rose to greet her. Blowing on it softly, she watched the steam drift from its path into nothingness.
The silence stretched between them as if to cement the realization that they were very much alone. Fresh anxiety bloomed as she realized it was time to acknowledge that things had changed between them though she couldn’t say exactly how.
Deeming the liquid in the cup cooled off enough to attempt to drink it, she brought it to her lips and felt the warm liquid coat her throat in a soothing flood. The mixture of orange and bergamot played together in a pleasant sort of dance and she raised her eyes to Malaki, finding his gaze already on her. “This is very good,” she said without a hint of duplicity.
Malaki’s lip quirked up as if he were pleased with the compliment. “It was my mother’s favorite blend.”
Wren bit her lip, trying to decide whether to ask more or not. It had already been a taxing day and the way he said the words it was clear that it was a delicate subject. Her curiosity got the better of her in the end. “How old were you when she died?”
Malaki looked down at the cup he twirled in his hands. “I was six when she died. They say her heart gave out.”
His voice was quiet while he said it and she could tell that even if he had experienced the loss when he was six, it was a wound that never truly healed for him. Wren often wondered what was worse.
To know and love someone or to have never known them at all and only wonder at what could have been. She had been younger than Malaki had when she lost her own parents and her memories of them were fleeting if not non-existent. It was an anger she harbored towards the universe that she had no memories of them to cherish, but seeing Malaki’s pain she wondered if it hadn’t been mercy.
“I’m sorry. That must have and still must be very difficult for you.”
He raised his eyes to hers as if searching for any deception. She fought down the urge to be angry with him for even thinking that she would be so crass.
“It was,” he said, raising the cup to his lips. He paused as he set the cup back down. “My mother used to take me to the village often. She thought it was important for me to know my people and how they lived. Rose’s daughter was one of my mother’s maids and they had become friends leading to many nights spent at Rose’s house. I remember how different my mother seemed when she was there. Almost like she belonged there more than in the castle.”
Wren barely breathed as Malaki’s story unfurled around them. She didn’t know what to make of the sudden altruism, but she also knew that she didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening by saying the wrong thing.
When she didn’t say anything, Malaki continued. “After my mother died I spent more time than my father approved of in the village and with Rose. More than anything or anyone she was what got me through those days. You’ve met my father. While I believe he loved my mother he didn’t know how to show empathy or console his sons. Rose never turned me away when I showed up at her door. She always ushered me in and made me feel like I belonged there almost like my mother had. She will never understand what she did for me, what she has always done for me.”
Tears pricked at Wren’s eyes at the sincerity and raw emotion in his voice. Before Wren knew what she was doing, she lifted her hand to put it over his, settling on the table. Malaki stilled under her touch and his eyes locked on to where their hands met.
Wren felt a sudden wave of uncertainty fill her at his reaction, and she moved to take her hand back, but he grabbed it in his. She raised her eyes to meet his, her heart thundering in her chest. He looked at her with warmth and without the confidence that he usually wore like a second skin.
Her stomach fluttered in response. “I’m sorry I called her some old woman,” Wren blurted.
