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I looked after him until his form blurred with the night, the air suddenly much cooler, sending a shudder across my body. “He’s in a mood.”
Sebian let out a little snort before he draped one arm over his eyes, his body shifting on the grass as if in search of more comfort. “Sweetheart, Malyr isalwaysin one mood or another. Learn to ignore it because trying to figure out what’s going on in his head is impossible.”
Yes, and that precisely was the issue that had my stomach churn and my skull ache. There would be no seduction, no child, no alternate plan to ensure this wedding, that much Malyr had made clear. What else was left? Trusting his word and his honor?
I wouldn’t even trust his shadow.
Quite literally.
For a long while, I watched how Malyr sat far away by the edge of the creek and stared at its moonlit surface, until a long sigh escaped me. “Do you think he’ll go through with the wedding?”
When no answer came, I lifted my head, only to find Sebian’s eyes closed, his breathing even. Beside him, hisanoahad curled its head beneath its wing and huddled into the crook of its owner’s neck. Asleep.
One deep breath bought me the semblance of bravery, then I carefully rose as not to wake the two, and walked over to the creek. Arms wrapped around myself to ward off the biting chill, I stopped several feet behind Malyr. As much as the distance between us had ached me earlier, the closeness unnerved me more.
Malyr stilled, shifting his head a fraction of a degree, as if trying to catch sight of me along the edge of his periphery. “What of Sebian?”
“Asleep.”
Scoffing ever so slightly, he shook his head. “For five years, I tried breaking him of his self-destructive habits. Then you showed up.”
“Habits?”
“Oh, you never noticed that he was fucking drunk half the time? Either that, or his head was poisoned,” he said, making me think back on how poorly Sebian had looked the day Captain Theolif had come, and the gray discoloration on his lips. “You have a strange effect on people, little dove.”
“You included?”
Malyr rested his underarms on his bent knees, one hand shifting something in its palm with a dull grinding sound. “Did he ever tell you how he got his scars?”
Of course, he would ignore my question. “No.”
“Your former betrothed raided one of our refugee camps that was under Asker’s command. Domren caught dozens of Ravens beneath nets while they were sleeping peacefully in their huts before he set them ablaze, burning them alive. Most died, including Sebian’s entire family. He would have, too, had he been there. As he was supposed to.”
Slowly, I dared another few steps and sat beside him. “What do you mean?”
“He was assigned watch for the night. On his way to his post from a nearby tavern, a great owl injured his primal. He shifted, hit his head on a rock, passed out.” He kept palming whatever he held in his hand, letting it grind, making itclank. “By the time he reached the camp, it was all nearly over. He went into his family’s hut, trying to save them from the flames. It was winter, and the fur in his bracers caught fire. I found him the next day lying in the snow, unconscious, his arm so badly burned, the snow around it had melted away, the wound steaming. They had attacked from the direction of his post.”
A sharp, biting pain nipped along my arm. Nothing but the wind blowing from the open swamp across as an overwhelming surge of sorrow flooded my chest. That night when I’d thanked Sebian for protecting me? Or when I’d told him that I felt safest with him? Each time, he’d stilled.
I pulled my knees against my chest, curling myself up against the threat of winter. “He feels responsible for their deaths.”
“Nearly a hundred souls.” The moon reflected on the surface of the creek and cast a pale blueish hue across his handsome features. “It is a heavy burden to carry. One misstep, one accident. One moment of… weakness, leaving you with nothing but guilt. That, and the lifelong urge to make things right. It is what draws him to you, you know. Saving you. Protecting you.” Malyr turned his head, letting his eyes lock with mine. “What will happen once he realizes that you are not the damsel in distress you make yourself out to be?”
Clearly, he was referring to how I’d tried to get his child into my belly. “Trusting you doesn’t come easily, Malyr.”
“Yes, I took notice,” he said on a sigh and opened his palm, letting what appeared to be pebbles slip into the grass. “Your father used to wear a pendant around his neck. A salt crystal set intoaerymel. Is it familiar to you?”
I was about to shake my head when I remembered the pendant from my childhood. “I always took it for a cloudy white gemstone.”
“He still has it?”
“Yes, somewhere,” I said and glanced over at him. “Why? What does it mean to you?”
“Your father took it off my person when he captured me.”
“It was yours?”
“Not truly. It belongs to myanoaley. My mate. Years before Valtaris fell, a messenger reached my parents. Around his neck, he wore the pendant, stained red from his blood. Something or someone must have attacked him or his unkindness on his way to our city,” he said. “It is of the girl destined for the younger prince, he had said, muttering something about keeping it safe, danger, and returning home. Where he came from, nobody knew, as he suffocated on his own blood seconds later. To this day, it is a mystery.”
