Page 63 of Where Darkness Falls

“I know. I know. I’ll be sorry,” Gawain snipes out, turning to Maeva. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” she replies.

She crosses the room to where Virgil sits in the chair by the bed. She takes a seat on the mattress, adjacent to him, folding her shaking hands in her lap.

“Please, close the door, High General,” she says.

“As you command,” I reply.

My eyes never leave hers—even as the door closes between us.

My hand rests against the wooden frame, my chest tighter now that she’s out of my sight. I want to open it again just to be sure that she’s okay, but I meant what I said.

I’ll give her the time she needs.

While I don’t trust Gawain, I know Virgil is more than capable of dispatching him if the situation calls for it.

Laisren places a hand on my shoulder. “She’s going to be fine, Emyr,” he murmurs. “Virgil won’t allow any harm to befall her.”

I release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

I turn to my brothers that are still in their full armor. Their eyes look heavy with dark circles, telling just how long this day has been for all of us. “Why don’t you two go eat and relax. We’ve had a long journey, and you both deserve a break,” I say.

“Not a chance, mate,” Riordan replies. “We’ll be here until that heckler leaves Maeva’s chambers. Then we’ll gladly go.”

“Agreed,” Laisren nods. “I have an odd feeling about him. There’s something unsettling about this bloke.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me,” Riordan interjects. “I’ll rip him apart if he twitches the wrong way.”

I nod, elated that my brothers understand my reservations about Gawain.

I lean against the wall nearest the door, listening for any signs of a struggle.

All is silent except for the warbled murmurs from within.

I fidgetwith my hands resting on my lap, unable to look into Gawain’s eyes. I know it’s only fair to tell him what became of Cara, but the shame I carry—along with the part that I played in her death—is too much.

You can’t control the tendencies of wicked people, Maeva. If he’s worthy of your sister, surely he’ll understand,Saoirse says.

I’m not certain that will be the case,I reply.

You don’t know if you won’t at least give him the opportunity,she says.

The god-cursed voice is right,I mutter.

I’m not god-cursed,Saoirse retorts.I’m just correct.

Could you please refrain from hearing my every thought?I ask.

I’ll try, but you’re a rather noisy thinker,she growls.

A steel-laden hand comes to rest on my knee, reminding me I’m just sitting here on the mattress, looking at my hands.

My sight roams up themetallic arm to Virgil’s one amber eye. Though its appearance is hardened, there’s a softness behind it—an understanding.

“Are you sure you wish to do this?” he asks. “No one is going to force you. You have my word.”

I’m silent for a long moment.