Page 49 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

“Fine. But will you at least share the bed with me? I mean—just to sleep,” she added, looking down quickly. He hesitated, worried that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself once they were in the same bed.

“Please, Triston. I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re uncomfortable or in pain.”

He knew he’d be uncomfortable no matter what he chose. He’d be miserable in the bed, trying desperately hard not to touch her, either on purpose or accidentally throughout the night. Or he could torture his body again by sleeping in the chair. But the look on her face, innocent and pleading, won out.

He nodded, his jaw tightening out of quiet anticipation.

Julietta smiled, obviously delighted to have won this argument, and he couldn’t help but continue to soften towards her. She went to her trunk and pulled out her nightgown and then strolled into the bathroom to change. Triston could hear the water running in the sink and hear her hum cheerfully. He tried to make out the tune, but he couldn’t place it. However, it reminded him of something he must have heard during his childhood.

While she was preparing for bed, he quickly stripped off his boots and shirt, leaving his pants on. He knew he’d have trouble sleeping in them, but there was absolutely no way he could sleep bare next to Julietta.

He climbed into the bed, moving to the very edge of the side closest to the wall, allowing her plenty of room and the spot nearest the fire. He pulled the covers up to his upper chest, feeling stupidly awkward, but also trying not to do anything remotely suggestive.

Julietta came out of the bathroom, wearing her thin nightgown. His eyes darted to her bare feet, and then back up to her neckline. Her nightgown was low, and he could just make out the gentle slope of her cleavage before he averted his eyes.

She tiptoed to the corner of the room, blowing out the candles. The room was full of fluttering shadows from the glowing light of the fire, slightly illuminating the room, but Triston didn’t care about the lack of darkness. He knew he would have a hard time sleeping anyways, as he watched Julietta pull back the sheets and slip underneath them.

With her back turned away from him, all he could see was her slender neck and her gorgeous hair, which she’d fastened into two braids down her back. He stared at her for a few minutes, silently willing her to sleep so that he could rest as well.

“Triston?” Her voice was small and timid.

“Yes?”

“Is it…me? Is that why you want to break the bond?”

Triston could sense her wounded pride, nearly feeling the rejection she felt. Hearing her lack of confidence, the way she doubted herself, made him feel…he wasn’t sure what. But it wasn’t a feeling he liked.

He reached out and gently touched her shoulder, and she turned towards him, her eyes intense.

“Absolutely not. I just—I can’t have a wife.” The more often he repeated it, the more he hoped he would remember it.

She blinked rapidly and he tensed, trying not to react to her nearness. “Is it because—of your parents?”

He didn’t know how much she knew, but it appeared as if someone had shared some amount of knowledge with her. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but he felt that he owed her the explanation.

“Yes. It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart.” He didn’t know why the endearment kept slipping out of his mouth, other than it was a term his mother had used before her death.

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me anything…I just…wanted to be sure.”

Her vulnerability once again cut him to the core. Triston sighed deeply, trying not to look at her.

“I was only eight years old when they died. My magic—was—lacking, and my father had found some ancient soothsayer who told him to head to the forbidden mountains, far into the Siren’s Sea. My mother was nervous to go, but my father…he thought it necessary.”

Julietta reached out and stroked his cheek, and he let his eyes close. He was getting used to her comforting gestures, and he liked them more than he cared to admit. It seemed to give him the strength to continue with his tale.

“We finally reached the edges of the sea, when suddenly, a great mist descended on us. All of the nautical instruments on the ship stopped working, and we were soon lost in the fog. We floated along for days, not knowing where we were. My parents…who always got along somewhat well…argued horribly. My mother blamed my father for his need to have a magical son to rival the other kingdoms, and I…I blamed myself for being born and left…powerless.”

At this revelation, Julietta moved closer to him. Triston knew he should push her away, but instead he allowed her to cradle his head as she pressed it against her chest, almost as if he was a small kitten in need of warmth and comfort.

“I understand better than anyone might,” she cooed, smoothing his hair. “My mother was often—disappointed—with my lack of power.”

“I haven’t said anything—but—I’ve regained a tiny bit of magic,” he admitted. “But I was afraid I was imagining it.”

“I thought I was imagining mine too, at first. Do you think Cressida took yours as well?”

“I don’t know. But when we felt the bond, I knew I hadn’t been imagining it. The only way we could have felt it was if I possessed enough of the magic.”

Triston felt her nod, her chin moving against his hair. “How did you manage to survive?”

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