Page 116 of Of Rime and Ruin
I freeze in my tracks.
He’s here.
Aethan.
It’s the first time in days he’s ventured to my side of the castle.
The books drop to the floor with a dull thud.
Heart soaring, I race to the door. Press myself against it, as close as I can get. My cheek slides against the smooth darkwood, and my ear suctions. I strain to hear. Is he in the hallway? Is he close?
There. In the distance. Large feet on wood slats. His footsteps come closer. Closer.
Aethan.
I get a glimpse of his emotions: Anxiety. Pain.
Is he in trouble? Is he hurt? My fingers trace the surface of the door, catching in the grain. With all my heart, I will him to come closer. To close the gap. To let me out and into his arms. His mind. To let me soothe that pain.
But his footsteps retreat, and I lose my hold on him.Shit.I slump against the door as my heart sinks. Serves me right for hoping.
I eye the scattered books on my floor, all will to finish my earlier task vanished. Is this my imagination playing a cruel trickon me? I’m driving myself insane. I need to stop obsessing over him and move on with my fucking life.
I’ve experienced heartbreak before. I knew this would happen, and I still caught feelings.
Aethan has kept me prisoner since the moment I arrived. Posted a godsdamn guard at my door. What idiot falls for the asshole who caged her?
Me, that’s who. I’m a stupid, chum-brained idiot.
I ball my hands into tight fists. If he comes through that door, I’m going to punch his pretty little nose.
Angry tears spill on my cheeks.
Wait.
His footsteps sound again. Coming closer. Faster. I feel a flare of emotion, burning with hope. It’s mine—and his. Aethan ishopeful?
I press my ear to the door, desperate for any clues. Perrin stirs on the other side. Clears his throat. His keys jingle as he adjusts his stance.
“Your Maj—”
Aethan grunts, cutting him off.
That sound, the rumbling gravel in his chest, I missed it.He’s here. Moisture springs into my eyes anew, and I wipe them away. No time for tears.
Quickly, I run my fingers through my hair. I snare the tangles, pulling them apart. Fuck it. I toss it on top of my head and tie it in a quick, loose knot.
Hope. Anticipation. Worry.
The key fits into the lock.
I scramble away from the door. Smooth the wrinkles from my nightgown. Should I put on a robe? Mine lies in a puddle next to my bed. The sheets are a mess, drooping off the mattress like melted cheese. This is no way to greet a king.
A king, sure. But this is Aethan I’m worrying about.
I reel in my thoughts for a reality check. He trapped me in here. What did he expect me to do, keep it pristine for him in case he graced my sheets?
He hurt me, by accident, and instead of talking to me about it, he locked me in a room. I haven’t seen him for four days. Why visit me now? Is he here to apologize?
