Page 48 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

“Ican’t ask for another room, Julietta. I’m sorry. I—I told them you were my wife. I was afraid that traveling alone with you, and then staying at a public inn would compromise your virtue. The healer said that you needed constant observation, so…I panicked and told them we were married.”

“It’s okay. It’s just for one more night. I’ll sleep on the chair this time.” Julietta grabbed one of the fluffy feather pillows off of the bed and moved towards the chair. Triston cut her off, blocking her path.

“Absolutely not,” he said, assertiveness strong in his tone. “You’ve suffered a head trauma, and besides, you're a maiden. You’ll sleep on the bed. I’ll take the chair, or even sleep in the bathtub.”

Triston walked towards the middle of the room, trying to hide the pain in his back, attempting to conceal the way his muscles ached from carrying her on his horse all the way to the inn. That entire ride he cradled her close until the healer had taken her from his arms. But even as he tried to move naturally, he knew his movements were stiff.

“Triston, you can hardly walk! You won’t be fit to ride tomorrow if you don’t sleep properly.”

He looked at the soft bed, warm and inviting. But then he turned to face her, and he knew he couldn’t let her sleep anywhere but in the bed. He might be a king, but she was a princess.

“I won’t sleep in a soft bed while you’re in a hard chair.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “I refuse the bed.”

Triston was exasperated. He was tired, in pain, and every single second he was near her was draining him completely. He had to repress the multitude of feelings he had towards her, and it was taking a toll on him. “Julietta, just take it and go to sleep.” His tone was gruffer than he meant it, and he didn’t recognize his own stern voice.

Out of nowhere, her palm came up and smacked him alongside the cheek. “Stop telling me what to do!”

His head jerked with the hit. It hadn’t hurt, but he wasn’t expecting it.

As if in slow motion, Julietta looked at him, and then her opened palm.

“Oh my Gods! Triston! I’m so sorry!” Horror crossed her face, and she instantly pressed her hand to his cheek, softly caressing the spot where she had struck him. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Her palm stilled against his cheek, and he brought his hand up to hers. He knew he should pull away, but instead he leaned into her touch, sighing loudly. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just tired and…this bond is getting harder and harder to deal with.”

She nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Triston realized he loved how she was all fire on the inside, but also caring. He wiped the tear away. “Don’t fuss, sweetheart. It didn’t hurt. There’s no harm done.” He pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. Julietta’s breathing increased, and he could hear her rapid intake of air.

He momentarily couldn’t remember why he was fighting this. Why was he denying them both what they needed? Withholding what their bodies and souls were begging them to take? She wanted him, and he wanted her. What was so wrong with that?

Internally, he begged her to move. With his mind, he tried to urge her to back away. But instead of voicing his thoughts, he continued to breathe with her, their heartbeats now synchronized.

Finally, a raspy command left his throat. “Julietta, if you don’t want me to kiss you, you need to move backwards.” He bit his lip, silently pleading with her to move, but also wishing with every fiber of his being that she’d stay put. A few more seconds ticked by, but she didn’t flinch.

“Julietta,” he growled. “You need to move before I do something I regret.”

Instead of retreating, he felt her lips, soft and warm, brush against his. A spark of hope and a shimmer of desire coursed throughout his entire body, and his hands moved as if they were independent of him, coaxing her closer to his chest. He deepened their kiss, parting her lips with his as he moaned her name.

A knock on the door broke them apart, and they practically recoiled into the farthest corners of the room, away from each other. Triston moved his hand through his hair, trying to calm his erratic breathing enough to answer the door. He adjusted himself, slightly embarrassed that all it took was a couple of kisses to excite him this much. It wasn’t normal for him in the slightest.

His eyes quickly sought Julietta, but she looked innocent, except for the pink in her cheeks.

Triston opened the door.

The healer stood there, his bag in his hand. “I’ve just come to check on your wife,” he said pleasantly, entering the room. He motioned to Julietta, who obediently sat on the bed.

“Any fever? Confusion? Odd patterns of speech?” He looked at Julietta and then at Triston.

“No,” they both said, and the healer nodded. “Good. I’ll just check her eyes and then be on my way.” The healer brought out a small lantern and shined it in both of her eyes, watching them react. It made no sense to Triston, but he kept his mouth closed. He had never had an interest in the healing arts.

“She looks good as new,” the healer said, gathering up his bag. Triston walked with him to the door, and then pulled a few gold coins out of his pocket, pressing them into the healer’s hand. “Thank you very much.”

The healer left, and Triston closed the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply.

“I’ll pay you back. For the healer, I mean.”

He gave her a stern look. For once, she didn’t argue with him.

---