Page 78 of The Queens and the Kings
“I trust you.”
Irritation tightened his jaw when he said, “Shite, Britt, but it’s not about trust. It’s about facts! Soldats are more likely to die than most. I’ve been lucky so far but that luck will run out one day.”
“You’re good at what you do, Henrik. That counts for something.”
“I don’t control this,” he said, his voice sharp.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you suffering like Einar.”
Britt shuffled closer. Their chests pressed together, hearts bouncing off each other. She whispered, “That’s not your problem,” and almost smiled when his fury doubled.
“If it’s protecting you, yes it is my problem! It’s not fair of me to ask anything of you before I face His Glory.” He paused, the cadence slowing as he opened his fingers, loosening his tight grip. “But I want to.”
“Then don’t ask anything of me. Let me give it.” Her immediate rebuttal earned a swift glare. She rushed to say, “I will give you everything I have, Henrik. I care for you, and notjust as a friend. But if we’re to be only friends, then that’s enough until you’re ready for more.”
From this distance, the flecks of gold in his eyes created a shimmer, an intensity. He was a lone sailor, and she the siren song.
There was no going back.
Henrik reached up, cupped her chin with his hand. Her heart shivered; breath stalled. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
“Shite, Britt. I don’t deserve you. Give me time?”
“As much as you want.”
She prayed he’d kiss her. Press their lips together and wing her into territories she’d only dreamed about. But he didn’t. Gradually, his hand shifted away. The tips of his fingers slipped along the bottom of her jaw like lines of fire.
“You’re worth fighting for. I promise that I will fight for you until all the blood leaves my body.”
Britt woke up to a tangerine sky. She peered over the edge of her hammock to see the first vestiges of the sunset creeping daytime backward. Outside of Pedr’s quarters, a tall, lithe body stood at the wheel, staring out, his hair trailing in the wind. She slipped out of the hammock, grabbed a blanket.
Pedr said nothing as she stood at his side, the blanket wrapping her shoulders. A stiff breeze blew into her face, clearing sleep. Pedr’s shoulder and tawny arm brushed hers. Those deep set, thoughtful eyes, nestled amongst thousands of freckles all down his face and neck, stormed.
“I’m sorry, Britt.”
“You have no reason to apologize. I deserved what you said.”
“I have more reasons for what I said and didn’t say than you know. There are things I can’t say.”
He swallowed audibly.
The simple statement remained unrequited. She tucked it into a corner of her mind to think about later. She couldn’t fathom a single thing Pedr would need to apologize for, but neither had she imagined him bound by . . . something.
“Look, it’s obvious you physically can’t tell me something.” Britt tilted her head back, shaking the hair from her eyes. “I understand that whatever holds power over you, it prevents you from speaking. Don’t respond,” she quickly added, hand in the air. “I don’t want you to go through it again.”
The slightest nod encouraged her. She’d thought about this on and off while she dozed throughout the afternoon. Whatever bound him must be arcane, and likely powerful. He didn’t control it, and it worked under specific parameters he couldn’t reveal. How long had he been operating under these constrictions? His constant mastering of visible emotions made far greater sense.
She laid a hand on his forearm. “Whatever it is, I want to help. If I can,” she added. “Please, let me know?”
Another terse nod.
For both their sake, the conversation needed to change.
“Do you sleep?” she asked.
“No.”
