Page 77 of Heart of the Summer Queen

He takes a step closer, lips twitching in what appears to be thinly veiled mirth. “I am not so weak that sleeping on the floor will incapacitate me. You have nothing to worry about Adara.”

I swallow hard, struggling to regain composure in the wake of my careless words. What is wrong with me? I should simply let him take the floor if that’s what he prefers.

“What if we reach Eruweth and you—” My rambling dies as Elaric catches my chin, tilting my gaze up. I didn’t even realize he was pacing toward me.

My breath hitches as I brace for the worst. As I wait for him to tell me how he will never sleep beside me again. That I’m a fool for dreaming that anything might ever happen between us—

“Adara,” he says.

“Yes?” It comes out more of a squeak than I like.

“Do you want me to join you on the bed?”

The blood drains from my face. “I . . . er . . . ”

All words fail me, though I couldn’t seem to rein them in just seconds ago.

I can’t tell him the truth. That I want him to join me on the bed, that I want us to return to what we were before I drove a knife into his chest.

He has already made it clear what happened last night was a terrible mistake.

Lying is impossible beneath his searing gaze. But neither is my heart willing to deny his offer, dangerous though hope may be.

“Adara?” he prompts.

My fragile resolve cracks. Unbearable pain swells within, and I can’t meet his eyes any longer.

I pull away, and his lack of resistance slices deeper than any rejection. It confirms he doesn’t want this.

Doesn’t want me.

If he’d held me longer, if he’d needled me further, perhaps I could have blamed saying yes on his persistence rather than the longing in my heart. Now I’ve pulled away, I realize how much I wish I’d said yes and faced the consequences. Even if he never spoke to me again.

I face the door, focusing on all the imperfections running across the wood. On the way the brass handle is worn in places, countless different hands having pulled it open over the years. I try to imagine all those people and what they might have looked like. Anything to distract my mind from him.

“We’ll put pillows between us,” I say to the door, wishing for the sentence to come out stronger than I feel.

Elaric doesn’t reply, though I don’t doubt he heard me. I don’t dare glance back and see whether disappointment or relief is currently flickering across his expression.

How seeing relief would break me.

Casting aside my thoughts, I concentrate on my steps as I march over to the bed and tear aside the sheets. I shove a large pillow down the bed’s center and then sink into the blankets. Closing my eyes, I lie still, pretending to be asleep to escape the awfulness of this entire situation.

It would be so much easier if the lumpy mattress swallowed me whole.

“Do you intend to sleep with your boots on?” Elaric says, ruining any chance of a hasty retreat.

Damn it. I should swing my legs out of bed and pull them off since I hate sleeping with my boots on. But I can’t bear the thought of moving. It risks glimpsing him and lengthening this painful conversation.

The boots will have to stay on. All night.

I don’t so much as twitch in response, and Elaric doesn’t push the matter any further.

There’s a brief pause and then shadows wash over my face as Elaric blows out the candles, casting us in darkness. The mattress dips as he climbs in.

Only a pillow separates us. Yet it feels like a hundred-mile-long wall.

There’s the rustling of sheets, the groan of springs as he turns, and then nothing. No more movement.

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