Page 58 of Crown of Hearts
“I still get nightmares too.” We’d had this conversation before, on our first night travelling together through Everness. I supposed some thingsdidn’tchange.
“What do you dream about?”
“The war with Argon.”
“The same ones you had before?”
I turned my face and looked towards the corner of the room, the light and darkness having a never-ending battle, as the flames from the candle rose and fell.
I nodded. “They’re always the same and they don’t get better with time.”
She took a deep breath, and I moved my hand towards her in comfort.
“Would you tell me about them?” she asked carefully, another question underlying it.
Would you trust me with your deepest, darkest, subconscious thoughts? With the things that you fear, that secretly haunt you?
I moved so that I could sit with my back against the headboard and Elara curled up next to me.
“Most of the time, I’m on the battlefield. My men are dying around me, crying for me to help them. I can never get to anyone fast enough. Never save anyone. It’s as though I’m stuck.”
“That must be terrifying.”
I nodded slightly. “It is. But it helps if there’s someone there when you wake up.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed and I realised what it sounded like. As though I had a string of lovers in my bed.
I should not be making conversation in the middle of the night when I’m not fully awake.
“No, that’s not... I mean itwouldbe nice... if there was someone, or you know.” She seemed to grasp what I meant, and I stopped talking.
Elara was silent for a moment before she scooted closer to press her side into me. “Will you stay until I fall asleep again?”
“Of course I’ll stay.” I draped my arm over her shoulders, and she tucked her head into my neck. Her hair smelled sweet.Having her this close was magnetic. The more I got, the more I wanted. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then another to her forehead. She pressed closer to me in response.
I sat next to her until her breathing became even, and then long after.
* * *
“I heard you and Her Majesty were out for a picnic.” Thatcher placed his feet on one of the coffee tables and leaned back.
“I need the names of your spies in the palace.” I looked up from where I was sitting behind my desk.
“Just always looking out for you, Your Majesty.” He lazily picked up one of the books that someone seemed to have absentmindedly tossed there earlier. “So, no more strolls with Lady Meredette?”
I contemplated ignoring him, my eyes glued to my desk.
“If you remember correctly, you tricked me into that meeting.”
“Just not the woman for you, was she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded, trying to focus on the papers in front of me.
“Don’t evade the question.”
“I’m not like you, Thatcher. I can’t fall in and out of love every day. And I don’t mean that offensively.” I signed a page, moving on to the next one. “Lady Meredette was polite and well-versed.”
“But?”
