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I wait for him to give me an explanation, but he just stares at me. My anger returns. “That’s all I get?”
“You asked a question, and I asked a question. One for one, we’re even.”
“The hell we are. I already knew you were talking to a fae.”
The corners of his lips turns up. “Then you shouldn’t have wasted your question on something you already knew the answer to.”
“I didn’t know there were rules,” I say as a growl. “I was simply using that first question as a start into a conversation where you give merealanswers.”
Daimis yawns. “It’s late and I’m tired, we should call it a night.”
“Daimis,” I say through clenched teeth as a warning.
Daimis sighs and looks me in the eyes, his expression growing serious. “After everything you’ve learned about me, why do you think I was talking with the fae?”
I open my mouth to answer, but then we hear the clanging of chainmail. I pull Daimis behind a large tree with me, out of sight of the approaching guards. We have to squeeze together to fit behind the trunk without being seen.
“I thought I heard something,” one of the guards says.
“Probably just the wind through the trees,” the other guard says.
“It sounded like voices,” the first guard says.
They wander farther away, but still within earshot. We stay silent and still, waiting for the guards to finish their search of the area.
Daimis’s arms are firmly around me and mine are under his cloak, around his waist, my hands balled in his shirt. I breathe in his birch and cypress-spiced scent. It reminds me of the other times I’ve been in his arms—of the feel of his lips on my neck. I lean in closer to him, pressing every inch of my body into his. He responds instantaneously, like he was holding back moments before, and my body pressing into his breaks his restraint. He turns us so that my back is pressed against the tree, his hand gently cupping my head, fingers tangled in my hair. Our breathing increases, mingling. My hands release his shirt and slide across his back, exploring the muscles there. His arousal presses into me and my desire for him grows deep in my core. I gaze into his moonlit face. The more mature planes of his face are so familiar to me now. He reaches up a hand and drags his thumb feather-like across my bottom lip, igniting a burning for him that has my nails digging into his back.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes.
“Come on,” one of the guards says. “There’s no one here.” Their steps fade as they walk back toward camp.
The interruption is enough to have me thinking clearer and the questions that were burning in my mind earlier resurface. Who is the fae woman to him? Who am I to him? What is he to me? Until I have the answers to my questions, I cannot let this go any further. Daimis leans down to close the small distance between our lips when I place a hand on his chest. “We should head back.”
He stops, his brows crease for a moment, then he nods, releasing me. He steps back, allowing the cold night air to replace where his body had warmed mine. Regret is a cruel, bitter taste on my tongue. We walk back in silence.
* * *
Over the next couple of days, our group continues north until we’re high enough into the mountains that the trees change from red, orange, and yellow to the deep green of pine. I feel closer to nature’s calming effect up here. The breeze, bringing the smell of damp earth, fragrant pine, and crisp winter twines around me like a mother’s embrace, and my magic even feels more settled for it. The temperatures have dropped enough that even Daimis, who seems impervious to the cold, has donned a fur cloak.
This high up, the river Syth is now a roaring cascade of white and green at the bottom of a deep canyon. The Regent still hasn’t told anyone exactly where we’re going, but if we keep heading north, we’ll be in snow soon.
I’m riding my horse, huddled inside the warmth of my cloak when the clopping of hooves from behind grows in volume and Daimis sidles up beside me. “Look,” he says, and motions with his chin to a rope bridge that’s just come into view.
On the other side of the bridge are two-story-high twin statues of fae in warrior’s armor, pointing their arrows at an invisible foe. Their angular faces are fierce and even if I didn’t know how dangerous the fae were, I’d be intimidated with the prospect of running into one.
“That’s fae territory on the other side of River Syth,” Daimis says.
I turn my gaze to his, which is still on the statues. I wonder if he’s thinking about the beautiful fae woman he was talking to in the reflection. I’ve determined that Daimis was talking to the fae to warn them about the Regent and what we found in the caves. I haven’t had a chance to talk with him about it yet, but I can’t help the jealousy that still stings every time I wonder who the woman is to him. She must be very important for him to risk so much to warn her. But then why did he almost kiss me the other night?
Daimis turns his attention to me, and I search his eyes for answers, but the power of his gaze is too much, and I turn my attention back to the statues.What’s my problem?There’s no denying that we have a strong attraction to one another. And I no longer believe it’s only because of my past connection to him. Truth be told, I’ve never felt this strong of an attraction to anyone before. But attraction or not, a relationship with Daimis is beyond impossible. He’s the Prince of Thaaryn. That’s the most ludicrous thing I could ever imagine. If I thought a relationship with Kellan wouldn’t work, what could possibly possess me to think one with Daimis would?
It doesn’t matter that he understands me, challenges me, or makes me laugh. It doesn’t matter that every time he’s near I want him closer, or that when I’m in his arms, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. The reality is he’s the prince, and I’m nothing more than a criminal, a magic user. I shake my head a little, trying to shake the feelings that no matter how ridiculous, won’t leave me be.
And then there’s the question of the fae woman. I just have to make it clear to Daimis that we can’t let anything but friendship exist between us. I’ll have to convince my body of the same, which seems to have its own thoughts on the matter anytime Daimis touches me. It’s like my body craves him in a way that even now, just thinking about it brings a flushed heat to my cheeks.
“You okay?” Daimis asks.
“I’m fine,” I brush off. He doesn’t look convinced, so I add. “Have you been here before?”
