Page 38 of Tortured

I haven’t been hunted by Caedryn’s men in that long—because I have become the hunter.

But it doesn’t harden me enough.

I still see Niawen.

She still haunts me.

Still tortures me.

I try to stay away from visions and dreams of her as much as possible.

But on some days, they slip in without a welcome.

Niawen is happy at least. Her happiness softens my anguish, but she still feels it. Sometimes, in my dreams, she whispers into my ear how sorry she is.

I always wake up feeling her warm breath on my ear.

Riahn always smirks when she sees the stains the tears leave on my cheeks.

I spend hours lying on the hard ground at night, watching Niawen twirl her young daughter in a meadow. Or brush her brown hair and braid it. Or take the sheep to the stream for a drink.

Her daughter’s name is Ahnalyn, and her green eyes burn brightly in my mind.

Green eyes like her mother’s.

Those are the nights. But the days… They are on the other side of the world. Roughly twelve hours apart. Her nights are my daytime torments.

I try to stay busy throughout the day to avoid slipping into a vision of her… and Owein. But the days are often spent traveling. Hiking isn’t distracting enough. I trip often. Nearly fell into a ravine once. Flying on a dragon is worse, with nothing to do for long flights but hold on to Westin’s waist and grimace in horror.

Niawen laughs with Owein often and kisses him and lies in his arms at night. Her quiet groans of pleasure often slip past our careful control.

I try to tell myself she’s happy.

That should be all that matters.

I try not to picture her face.

Riahn and the guys encourage me to seek out other women.

I won’t have it.

“You just need to fall in love with someone else,” Gilmar says.

“You just need a good, mind-blowing romp,” Westin says.

They are no help.

Often I give in and open completely to her. I touch my own cheek as if touching hers and know when she feels my caress.

Then she cries.

And I cry.

We are torturing each other.

In a small way, this makes me feel such delight every day, Caedryn says. To know that you are torturing each other.

Do you not feel the same anguish? I ask.

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