Page 135 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
There was such a weighted exhaustion in all his movements. So unlike himself, as if the change had taken something. Reminding me why the Old Gods didn’t take mortal form.
Such power shouldn’t be contained by flesh and bone. Why Kysillian power rendered their own Kysillian kings to ash in the end – chaos had limits for a reason. In all its forms it would seem.
The house let the fire flare. Then manifested towels and a steaming bowl of water. A pot of tea and an elaborate tray of biscuits as if frantically trying to find any way to help. Amongst all the items now littered on Emrys’s bedside table was a glass filled with what looked like brandy.
‘What is that?’ I reached for it, expecting the strong smell of liquor. Wondering why on earth the house would think brandy would help. Only to find it smelt like burnt sugar, a strange herbal perfume coming from the amber liquid.
‘Harborne extract mixed with other things. Gideon made it years ago.’ Emrys signed, reaching for the glass. ‘It takes the edge off.’
I gave it to him, watching the strong line of his throat as he downed it in one. Harborne was a toxic herb, any potion brewed with it highly volatile. Yet it seemed to settle him just as he said, breath slipping a little more easily through his lips. Those shadows slipping deeper beneath his skin.
‘I thought you were drinking,’ I admitted, remembering him with the same glass that day in the library.
His eyes were closed as his head rested against the dark wood of the headboard, yet a small devious smile pulled at his lips. ‘Drink doesn’t effect Verr, Croinn.’
My cheeks flushed, remembering the last time I’d accused him of being drunk. When he’d kissed me that first time.
Sensing where my thoughts had gone, one eye opened. Such a beautiful light grey as he reached for me, pulling me down to rest against his chest.
‘A lecherous drunkard.’ He pressed his lips to the side of my head. ‘What a type you have, Miss Woodrow.’
I couldn’t help but laugh, settling against him. My thumb tracing the edge of his jaw, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. Realising just how tired I was in the absence of all my panic.
‘Speak, Croinn,’ he asked softly, sleepily as the hearth dimmed.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I had too many words smothered inside of me. Too much hope and too many fears. Unable to understand how everything was unravelling, all the loose ends I hadn’t yet been able to catch.
‘Anything. Everything is better when I can hear your voice.’ His magic made a soothing pass over my arm, raising gooseflesh in its wake.
‘Amartis. Do you – do you know what that means?’ I asked, tracing those dark marks on his skin across his chest. Following the scars that led to that mark right over his heart.
He didn’t answer but his hand caught my own, pressing it against his skin more firmly. That ring glinting in a flare of orange light from the hearth.
I pushed up slightly, tipping my head to see his beautiful soft grey eyes watching me, waiting.
‘Call me back to you. Wherever. In whichever life,’ I smiled. A Kysillian devotion I knew the stories told. That he’d know that promise in its simplest form, know it from the tales that had survived. ‘I’m yours.’
He went still, so many thoughts moving across his shadowed features. As if trying to sense a lie.
‘You knew what I was then,’ his words were rough, almost with warning. The doubt he expected to see. That I’d want him so completely, even knowing it would never end well.
‘I was already yours.’ I didn’t let my smile falter, let him see the depth of just how much I meant it. Watched the lavender of my own gaze reflected in the depths of his. ‘Even if it was never meant to be. Even if it ended in that pit, even if it led to nothing but my ruin. I was yours, Emrys.’
Even if it was wrong and never destined to be. I’d still want this right here. Cursed or not.
‘Kat.’ My name was so quiet and so broken from his lips as he curled me closer into his arms.
‘You’re stuck with me,’ I taunted softly, wrapping my arms around him. Relishing in the weight of him on top of me.
‘Careful.’ He pressed a kiss lightly at my throat before the scratch of his stubble came at my jaw and his lips found my own. ‘Verr take vows very seriously, Croinn.’
‘Amartis,’ I repeated between his kiss. Offered my soul. My heart. Everything. Watching a tremor move through him at the pleasure of it.
‘Thank you for staying with me.’ The words were so soft as his head rested on the pillow next to my own.
‘Where else would I be?’ I asked, but he was already asleep.
I lay there with the comfort of Emrys’s magic around me, but I couldn’t rest.
