Page 50 of Ties of Death

Fear Cleaving through Me

Our clan is quick to obey Daenn, and they do it with delighted zeal. Sigrid ushers Jakob off to release the warriors who are loyal to Daenn and were thrown into holding cells by Viggo. Many, she says, were injured and are bedded down in the infirmary. Many of Viggo’s men, too. We just polished off the remainders.

It’s nice to know our clan, at least, is loyal. They didn’t take Viggo’s invasion with passive acceptance.

Daenn settles himself onto his throne and listens to the story of exactly what happened while he was away. I choose to help Sigrid and several other women with cleaning up the fight instead. We lay out the bodies to one side, and soon buckets of soapy water are brought to scrub the floors. When the warriors return with Jakob, I direct them to take the sleeping South Peak clansmen to the infirmary.

As I work, men and women stop me, smiles wide and eyes bright. They thank and praise me. It’s more than I expect, given how I helped, using magic like a lowlander or Elyri. I don’t deserve any of it, but when I try to protest, Sigrid scolds me—so I keep my mouth shut.

I’ve lost all sense of time’s passage when we finish cleaning up the room and handling the bodies. Daenn vanished longago—headed to the infirmary to check on Eskil and the others we left comatose.

It’s not even midday, but I’m exhausted. Using all my magic in that fight has left me desperate for sleep. Food, too, but my need for sleep is more pressing.

I tell Sigrid where I’m going and make my way to my quarters.

I don’t even register where I end up until I’ve reached it. I’m not at my old quarters, the ones I had for years, the ones I spent all of one night in when I first arrived.

Despite how short of a time I spent there, my feet—or maybe it’s my heart—have led me to the quarters I shared with Daenn before we left on our journey. I don’t examine the desire too hard. It’s natural to want to be near him after what we’ve been through. It’s been him and me and Storm through what feels like weeks, even though it was only days. And people would talk, anyway, if I went anywhere else.

This is where I’m meant to be. I’ll greedily take it until Daenn sends me away.

When I step through the door, shutting it behind me, Daenn is already here. He crouches by the firepit in the center of the room, angled away from me. His hair is wet, curling slightly at the base of his neck, and he’s wearing nothing but low-slung trousers. The muscular planes of his back glisten with droplets of water.

I may have just seen him like this last night, but I’m still frozen at the sight of him, my whole body flushing with heat. His back ripples with his every small movement as he stokes the fire, and then he rises and turns, and I can’t help but run my gaze over the front of his torso too. More bare skin, more hard, ridged muscles, and—

I catch sight of his wrists. Of the bracers there.

Bracers,plural.

And suddenly I’m cold all over, fear cleaving through me. “You put the second one on.”

“The clan is secured.” His voice is a low rumble. It would be delectably distracting if he were speaking of anything else besides the horrid bracers. “There’s no more reason to delay.”

I reach inside myself through our bond to check the magic. How did I not feel the moment he put it on? It’s already made a notable difference; I can practically see his magic being pulled and devoured, bit by bit. Small shreds of my own magic are getting caught in the flow, but not much. Near my end of the bond, my magic is no longer grey; it’s nearly back to the sparkling white it was before we married.

The bracers are stripping Daenn from me.

I swallow my protests. This is what he wants. What I wanted.

“I’m going to the springs,” I say instead, trying to push life into my voice. I don’t want to, but I don’t want to be here, with Daenn watching me. A small frown mars his features, but he doesn’t call me on how I don’t acknowledge his words about the bracers.

With as much speed as my tired body can manage, I collect a fresh change of clothes and some toiletries before fleeing. Another moment and I have no doubt I would have burst, begged Daenn to remove the bracers.

I may deny it to him, but I can’t deny it to myself.

I don’t want to lose Daenn again.

30

Hope and Desperation

Iam dead to the world for the entire afternoon. When I wake, Daenn sleeps beside me—as he was when I returned from my bath. He’s wearing a shirt and gloves again, and he lies on top of the covers instead of under them. But one hand has found me in his sleep, and the soft weight of it on my hip is grounding, comfortable.

I like it far too much.

So I force myself to scoot away and sit up. There’s a tray of covered food on my bedside table. Courtesy of Sigrid, probably. The thoughtful care warms me even more than the food does as I scarf it down.

I get up and stretch, careful to stay quiet. Daenn shifts and grimaces in his sleep. His hand curls into a fist.

---