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How could I ever show that side of me to a man who threatened to invade my home with an army that was sure to kill us all?
No.
Levi’s made his decision.
He’s my enemy through and through.
But if I have to play the fool and pretend that he’s not, for my own aspirations, then so be it.
Although pretending to care for Levi isn’t without its challenges.
Sometimes when we go out on our nightly walks and we lose ourselves in conversation, it takes me a minute to remind myself that this king is my enemy and not my friend. The way he talks about his experiences and the way he knows the world has me in a trance, completely captivated with all he has to say. Every night as we eat, I can’t help but be impatient, needing to be done with the meal, just so we can go outside, and he can recount all his adventures while imparting the wisdom he gained from them. I feel like a young schoolgirl anxious to start her lessons, completely smitten by her teacher.
There are other feelings that arise too.
Ones that I dare not dissect.
I catch myself looking at his strong, square jaw and wonder how it would feel to caress it with the pad of my finger. Or if his stubbled cheek would prick mine if I just grazed it against his.
Or if his lips taste as decadent as they appear.
His voice alone sends shivers down my spine, making my lower belly quiver with every word he speaks.
And all these feelings serve to do just one thing—split my focus and lose track of my mission.
Maybe that’s his plan all along.
While I connive in breaking his walls, maybe he’s found a subtle way of doing the same to me.
It also doesn’t help that he’s insisted on riding with me on the same horse the whole way east. His protective hand and arm can always be found on my body, be it on my hip, or wrapped around my middle, palm flat on my stomach. With each gallop we make, I can feel his rock-hard chest against my back. So much so, the two have morphed into one, syncing our breathing. Even the air he pulls into his lungs and then sets free does something to me, as it trickles down the nape of my neck, sending delicious chills to course through my entire body.
I make it a point not to talk to him on these rides, mostly because by the end of the day, I’m a rattled mess and need a few hours before dinner to regain my cool composure.
Fear of him seeing what he subconsciously does to my body is the real reason for my silence. To offer up such knowledge to him would be giving him power, and I dread that he has too much of that already.
My pensive thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the rumbustious cheers coming from the front of our train.
“What is it?” I ask, wondering what all of the commotion is about.
Levi leans down, his lips so close to my ear, I have to bite down my inner cheek just to keep myself still.
“How about we go and see for ourselves?” he says, a playful hint to his voice.
All I can summon the will to do is nod.
With a smile to his lips, Levi softly kicks the horse with his heel so he can break from our position and ride on in front of everyone.
I let out a relieved breath when the cool wind brushes up against my warm cheeks, successfully cooling the heat simmering in my veins. But just as we get closer to the head of the train, my blood freezes over. Levi halts our horse to a dead stop, just so I can stare at the scenery before me, northern snow-white covered ground meeting the green earthy tones of the east.
“There,” Levi says, pointing to the invisible line between our kingdoms. “There it is, my queen. Home.”
‘That’s not my home’ is what I want to respond, but the words never come out, preferring to stay locked away in a place that Levi can’t hear or see.
“We’ll camp here for tonight, and in the morning, cross over to the east. If all goes well, before day’s end, we will reach the gates of Arkøya.”
I know his enthusiasm to go home is genuine and has nothing to do with me.
So why does it all feel like an ill-begotten threat?
