Page 13 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

F our tankards of cider slosh on the table as the tavern maid distributes them to the men. She bats her pretty blue eyes and tosses her long, blonde hair as she simpers over the four princes.

She has yet to ask Marigold or me if we would like something to drink.

The woman perches on the edge of the round table, right between Dristan and Galinor’s chairs, and leans over to take a closer look at Galinor’s swollen eye. “I would hate to see the man who could do that to you.”

I look away, trying to focus on something else in the room—anything else. The fireplace is nice.

“I can fix that up for you.” She practically purrs the words.

I have the strangest urge to gag, but I believe I do an adequate job of keeping my expression even.

Galinor shakes his head. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m sure the ladies would like cider or tea.”

I look over to see what the tavern maid will think of his cool dismissal. She glances at Marigold and me as if she hadn’t noticed us—that’s what she wants it to look like, anyway. The briefest flash of irritation flickers across her face before she acknowledges us.

“Tea is fine,” Marigold says.

I nod in agreement.

The tavern maid saunters off, her hips swaying as she leaves. Irving stares after her, and I elbow him in the ribs.

He rubs his side. “What was that for?”

“For asking me to marry you this morning,” I say, leaning close and speaking softly so only he can hear. “And then looking at that woman like that.”

“ That woman?” Irving’s lips quirk up in an ornery smirk. “Is it my imagination, or do you sound a little jealous of that woman?” I open my mouth to protest, but he continues, “I do believe I will wear you down yet.”

Jealous? I’m not jealous of her.

She’s a trollop.

Galinor watches our interaction, frowning. His eye has darkened to a nasty shade of blue and purple, and the swelling is horrible. He certainly doesn’t look too perfect now.

If I had thought it would dissuade the opposite sex from ogling at him, though, I would be wrong.

The tavern maid, the barmaid behind the counter, and many of the younger women—and some of the older women as well—watch Galinor.

I’m sure it’s worse now that we’re in Glendon.

Here, Galinor isn’t just a prince—he’s their prince.

The woman returns with our tea and then perches next to Galinor once again. I sip my drink and then cringe. It’s lukewarm at best and as weak as wash water.

The day has been long, and as I watch the woman flirt with Galinor, I realize I’m too exhausted to eat. I take another sip of the tepid tea and then stand.

“I’m going to retire for the night,” I say, addressing no one in particular.

Galinor rises with me. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

The tavern maid glares at me, her lips softening to a pout when Galinor glances back.

I ignore her and scoot the chair in. “I’m fine.”

Irving stands. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Galinor looks as if he wants to object, but instead he says, “Good night, Anwen.”

I say my goodbyes, and Marigold says she will join me shortly.

Irving leads me down a narrow hall and up a flight of stairs. “Do you feel all right? Orick’s men didn’t hurt you, did they?” His face darkens, and he brushes my hair behind my ear.

I catch his hand before he winds it into my hair. “Irving, stop. I’m all right.”

Disappointment shows on his face, but he pulls his hand back. “Have you thought about my offer?”

“You know I can’t marry you.” I glance down the darkened hall, wishing someone would interrupt this uncomfortable conversation. I lean against the door and lay my head back, closing my eyes.

“We were good together.” He steps closer. “Don’t you remember?”

I do remember. Irving was all I wanted. Every hour, every minute, I longed to be with him.

Those first few days of stolen moments and secret kisses were bliss.

At first, it was easy to ignore the glances and the flirting—easy to dismiss it as harmless Irving behavior.

But as the weeks wore on, it became more difficult.

When I don’t move away, Irving takes a step in closer. “I remember,” he whispers.

Goosebumps rise on my arms. His hair is soft and short, and even after all these years, I remember what it feels like between my fingers. Reason blurs, and I set a tentative hand on his chest.

He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the edges and his lips tilting up in a crooked smile. Those lips were always gentle and never too eager, unlike Dimitri.

Dimitri.

Just the thought of his name steals the breath from my lungs. I clench my eyes shut while the pain of his betrayal paralyzes me.

“Oh, Anwen,” Irving says, his voice helpless as he draws me to his chest.

I sob, feeling pathetic, but I can’t stop. “Why would he leave me?” I cry into the handkerchief he hands me. “Didn’t he know how much I gave up for him? How much more I would have given?”

“He’s an idiot,” Irving assures me as he rubs my back.

I look up. I know my eyes are puffy, and my face is red and blotchy, but I don’t care. “I wasn’t good enough for you, either. Do you remember that?” I hiccup and gulp back tears, but they won’t be stopped now.

It’s Dimitri I want to yell at, but he’s not here. I smack Irving’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you want me? ”

Irving’s eyes widen, and then he chuckles softly, drawing me closer, holding me tightly enough I can’t even move—or hit him again.

“I am also an idiot,” he murmurs, “and I don’t deserve you.”

“I won’t marry you,” I say against the fabric of his tunic.

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “We could love each other, Anwen. We could be so perfect.”

I shake my head. “ Could love and do love aren’t the same thing.”

He releases me. I rub the handkerchief over my eyes, happy the tears are now ebbing.

“You have to marry someone.” His brown eyes search mine. “Would it be so horrible to marry a man that will make you Queen of Primewood?”

“It is when I can’t trust that man to be faithful to me.”

He looks shocked and hurt, but my resolve doesn’t waver.

“How could you think that?” he whispers.

“You’ve never shown me any differently.”

He narrows his eyes, not in anger but thought. Giving me an apologetic smile, he slides the key into the door and opens my room.

It’s nothing special or fancy. There’s a bed large enough for Marigold and me to share and a table with a candle on it. The already-lit flame burns lazily inside its pebbled glass enclosure.

Irving walks the room, and when he is satisfied it is safe, he steps back into the hall. “I’m in the room across the way if you should need me. I’m starving, so I’m going to eat, but I’ll retire shortly.”

I nod and close the door.

Why is everything such a mess? Life was supposed to be simple once I ran away with Dimitri. We would marry, travel the world, and…

What exactly was living with Dimitri going to be like? What was I going to do? I’m not a performer—I have no idea how to entertain people.

We would have been together, though. That’s what mattered.

I wake to a light knocking at the door. I must have dozed off, though I don’t think I’ve been asleep very long. Marigold hasn’t even retired yet.

In fact, that’s probably Marigold now. But why wouldn’t Irving have given her the key?

The floor is cold against my bare feet, and I shiver as I cross the tiny room. I flip the iron lock and open the door.

“You should have checked to see who it was before you opened it,” Galinor scolds.

I’m about to snap at him, but my attention shifts to the plate of food he carries, and I go mute.

Galinor runs one hand through his hair and offers the plate with his other. “I thought you might be hungry.”

He sounds as if he’s questioning his decision to bring me the food, so I accept the plate before he turns away. I then gesture for him to follow me into the room .

Before I even reach the little table, I pluck a square of yam from the plate and stick it into my mouth.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” Noticing he’s not behind me, I set the plate down and turn back. “Galinor?”

I find him lingering in the doorway, standing in an awkward way that makes me want to laugh.

“You aren’t going to make me eat alone, are you?” I tease him.

He glances down the hall, first one way and then the next, and then he relaxes his crossed arms and steps into the room. “I’ll keep the door open so no one thinks…” He clenches his jaw and then, not choosing to finish his thought, sits in the chair across from me.

I flush and look down at the plate. “Thank you for bringing this up.”

If he hadn’t pointed it out, I wouldn’t have noticed how alone we are. Now it’s all I can think about. I glance at him. The flame from the candle casts shadows on his face, and his eye looks even worse in the dim light.

“Did the tavern maid tend your eye?”

I wish I hadn’t asked—I really don’t want to know.

Galinor shakes his head. “No.”

Does he seem irritated that I mentioned her?

“She’s pretty,” I blurt out.

What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

I tear a piece of meat. It feels strange to eat with him watching me, and I’m very aware of his gaze.

“Why do you say that?” he asks.

I cringe inwardly and then shrug. “She seemed to like you.”

Why can’t I stop talking ?

I attempt a laugh, as if the whole conversation is very flippant. “And men usually like women like her.”

He’s quiet. When I dare to peek at him, I find him watching me intently. “Blonde, you mean?” He tilts his head, his meaning clear.

I work hard to gulp down a bite of food and nudge my own light curls behind my shoulder. I shrug again and wave my hand. “Blue eyes.”

“I like green.”

I freeze, my eyes trained on the plate. A familiar feeling dances in my stomach—something beautiful and heartbreaking. I lick my lips and meet his gaze.

Even with his black eye, he’s too handsome and far too royal. If letting my heart get tangled with Dimitri was a bad idea, then feeling something for this wounded prince is foolish at best.

“Are you sure of your decision about Irving?”