Page 28 of Court of Treachery

After eating, they still felt too worried to sleep. The silence was somehow weighty, as if the mountain would slip down and crush them whilst they slept. Harper wondered again how thickthe stone above their heads was. They sat without speaking around the empty, cold hearth in the centre of the room. Brand could not pace any more. Erika sharpened all of her blades and cleaned them twice. Aedon simply sat, staring into nothing, his hands clasped before him across his lap. No wood had been left for them, but Harper did not mind. Despite the hole in the roof that Aedon told her was a ventilation system to circulate good air into the caves, she did not trust that they would not be smothered in their sleep.

Slowly, Brand and Erika stood. There were five rooms to choose from, each with twinned beds, some pushed together and some parted. They bade Aedon and Harper good night and strode down the hall—together. Harper pulled her cloak tighter and rested her chin on her drawn knees.

“Copper hex for your thoughts?”

She glanced at Aedon sitting across from her. He twirled a six-sided copper coin between his fingers. A copper hex, she surmised. Still, so much of this world that was new to her, felt so very foreign.

“I’m worried about Ragnar.”

He did not reply but nodded gravely.

“If the dwarves don’t agree to help us, can we find him ourselves? Can we save him?”Before it’s too late?

He seemed to know what the end of her unspoken thought was, for his face softened.

“I mean, you used your magic, Brand and Erika used all their skills, yet we still just managed to fend off those goblins. How can we stand a chance againstmoreof them in their own domain?”

“It’s a difficult one. Honestly, Harper? I’m not sure.” It was the first time she had ever seen the cocksure, carefree Aedon at a genuine loss. The great Aedon, filled with the magic of dragons. Brand, the legendary Aerian warrior. Erika, the nomad whorefused to be stopped. If they did not stand a chance… Her own paltry magic was worthless too.

Power isn’t everything. She could not chase Erika’s words from her mind. For the first time, Harper allowed herself to imagine the worst. Every moment Ragnar was away from them was a moment that made it all the more likely he would be dead long before they found him—if he even were alive anymore.

Harper swallowed past the lump in her throat. “What if we’re too late? What if our power isn’t enough? What if we find him and…” She could not finish the sentence.

Aedon rose from his own chair and walked over. He sank beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Grateful for the anchor of his weight against the rising storm of worry in her, she leaned into him. But his words did not help. “I don’t know, Harper. I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”

For the first time, she heard grief in his voice, and pitied him even more than she worried for Ragnar at that moment. Harper rested her cheek on his shoulder in silent solidarity, and he rested his forehead against hers. Despite her exhaustion and grief, his friendship provided some comfort.

Aedon shifted beside her, turning her into his chest. He brought up his hand to cup Harper’s neck, sliding it up to her chin, and tugged it up. Her breath stalled, about to ask what he was doing—and then his lips met hers without delay.

24

HARPER

Aedon’s touch was gentle, but the contact was a violent shock. Harper’s breath stalled for all the wrong reasons as panic flooded her. As he pulled her closer, she struggled away, but he only followed her, the weight of him leaning over her as he pressed her further into the cushions and the strength in his body too unyielding to resist. Harper turned her face away, breaking his kiss. His lips fell to the nook of her neck below her ear.

“No!” She shoved him away, a palm thrusting into his chest, and pushed back to the armrest of the chair until it dug into her back. Her legs dangled uselessly off the seat, pinned by his body. Aedon braced himself above her, a hand to either side of her, and confusion filtered through him.

“What’s wrong?”

Harper shook her head, bringing her other hand up to scrub her lips so hard that it rubbed them raw. “I don’t want this.” Her voice shook—not from fear of him, but the fear of what she did not want to acknowledge—the realisation she had had beneath the waterfall of what shedidwant. That impossibly dark, sinful, and shameful desire so deluded she could never voice it.

“What?”

She met his gaze and held her voice firm. Of this, shewascertain. “I don’t want this. Us. I don’t want anything between us—only your friendship.”

“I don’t understand.” His brows furrowed. “Beneath the waterfall. You—We?—”

“It was a mistake.”

He stared at her as though he was a stranger.

“I value you as a friend—nothing more. I’m sorry.” She stopped the torrent unleashing. That she had longed for something more. Thought to find it in him. And instead only found a deep longing for something which she could never have—and should not want—and that she would never get. No amount of having him could replace that.

Aedon remained suspended above her for a long moment. Her spread hand still lay firmly planted in the middle of his heaving chest. He regarded her with utter confusion. And then, the pressure eased as he pulled away. His face closed for a moment, and she held herself still and silent as she watched his internal struggle. This was the part she feared—men, in her experience, did not like being told no. She had seen plenty of brawls at the tavern to testify to the result of their fragile egos being damaged by a woman’s choice. But Aedon swallowed. Straightened. And looked her dead in the eye with something that resembled wary respect. “Alright. I thought there was something between us.”

She shook her head and sat up, folding her hands in her lap.

His expression dropped and the colour drained from his face. “Oh Gods. And I just dived right in there. What a fool! I really am sorry—please, believe me. I would never force myself on you, or anyone. I thought you wanted this too.” He ran a hand through his hair and then dropped his face into a hand, groaning into his palm.

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