Page 26

N ot two hours later, I stood in an empty, sun-strewn stall in the stables, shoving a saddlebag full of spare trousers and shirts Theodore had lent me. He’d taken great pains to fold them into small, tidy squares and tie them tightly with twine.

The stable hands had been sent away, and across from me, sullen and edgy, Theodore tacked a horse himself. I watched him—the tight way he pulled at straps and tugged on the saddle. The sullen eyes, the stony set of his jaw.

His mood had begun to devolve the moment we’d returned to the Garden Room and the seemingly endless contracts.

He’d calcified further with each point discussed, began to bite on his cheek, tap his fingers on the polished tabletop.

I could only assume he regretted his decision to accompany me, and it was his gallingly relentless honor that had kept him from withdrawing.

“Will Agatha and Lachlan be here to see us off?” I asked from where I knelt in the clean straw.

“Yes.” He remained intent on his task.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good.” I tied off the last saddlebag with a jerk.

“You certainly seem it.” I hefted the bags toward him, and he snatched one from my grip.

“I hope you don’t plan on being this broody the entire time.

I’m already aware you’re regretting your decision to accompany me.

There’s no need to make it so painfully clear. ”

Theodore rounded on me. His green eyes blazed and pinned me still.

“You’ve got me figured out, haven’t you?

” He took one step closer, and I couldn’t speak.

Some emotion had him by the throat. He took another step toward me.

Then he raised a strong hand to my stomach and pressed me back against the wall of the stall.

I gave a sharp gasp, overcome by him. “Would you like to know what’s actually bothering me, Imogen? ”

I managed the barest nod.

“I don’t regret my decision, but I should.

” His fingers curled into my ribs, as if he were trying to grab hold of me.

Our bond glowed with delicious, glittering heat.

It rolled and pooled heavily in my center.

“I called you a gnat, and I detest myself for it. I am the bug. A moth. And you are the moon. Drawing me, pulling me. But I’ll never be able to reach you without destroying myself.

All I can do is pray for the day.” He gave me a pleading look.

“Do you understand? I am doing my very best to keep a grip on myself, to keep my distance, but everything you do seems in service of thwarting that goal.”

My heart rioted. I would have felt less shock had he pulled back the skin of his chest and shown me the fearsome, pulsing parts beneath. But this, his touch, his nearness, his outright admission. “This is a jest.”

He was so close, face tipped down toward mine. I could kiss him if I pushed up onto my toes.

His brow creased deeper. “Gods, I wish it were.”

My frustration rose at his tone of displeasure.

“You speak of desire like it’s an illness.

Like I have infected you with it.” I shoved halfheartedly at his muscled chest, only to curl my fingers into his shirt a breath later.

“How dare you blame me. As if I’ve laid a trap for you, or as if it’s vile to want.

I may be the object of your desire, but I am not its source. ”

He blinked, mulled over my rebuke, and then fought to straighten himself. His warm hand fell away from my stomach, and I instantly mourned its absence. I released his shirt, but we remained close. Our eyes locked.

There was something between us after all, beneath the discord, the friction.

I couldn’t tell if it was simply the bond stoking our attraction, but in that moment, I was desperate to know it.

To chisel away at his stony veneer, uncover, explore.

From the way he looked at me, I thought he might want the same thing.

He stepped away from me. “Forgive my lapse.” He turned back toward the horse to attach the second saddlebag. “It won’t happen again.”

The wall at my back was all that held me up. He was so adept at locking himself away. Suddenly, he was unflustered, unmoved by what had just transpired between us.

There came the sound of rustling straw and then Agatha appeared in the aisle.

She wore a new wheat-colored dress and carried a basket filled with wrapped packages of food and bottles of wine.

“There you are.” Her face fell when she saw me.

She eyed Theodore, then looked back to me. “Feeling all right?”

I nodded quickly. “Mmm-hmm.”

Her face hardened at my lie. “Your Majesty,” she said, to Theodore. “Princess Halla is here. She’d like to say goodbye.”

Theodore’s shoulders straightened, but before he could leave the stall, Halla was at Agatha’s side. Her white hair was twisted up tightly and studded with sapphire pins. The pale blue of her gauzy gown was a perfect match to her eyes.

She dipped into a low curtsy, smile sweet. “I wanted to bid you farewell, Your Majesty.”

Theodore was silent, but he stepped forward, took her hand, and placed a quick kiss to it.

Halla’s gaze narrowed with confusion when it landed on me, still standing with my back to the stall wall. “I didn’t realize Lady Nel would be accompanying you to liaison with your war captains.”

Theodore glanced at me, then back at Halla. “Her family lives near one of the bases.”

“How convenient.” Her smile grew strained. She rose onto her toes and placed a lingering kiss on Theodore’s cheek. “I’m eager for your return.”

Theodore only gave a curt nod in response.

After one last glance in my direction, Halla hurried from the stables with her head bent. Guilt swarmed, and then Lachlan was bustling in, carrying bedrolls, and additional packs of provisions. I didn’t miss how his wary stare cut between Theodore and me.

“Help me with these, Imogen,” Agatha said, gesturing to the food packs she held, then to the stall behind her where our second horse waited to be prepared.

She began filling a bag at the horse’s rump. She looked over her shoulder before whispering, “Let him help you.”

I tugged on the belt I wore. The trousers I’d borrowed from Theodore were too big and folded uncomfortably at the waist. The wool felt strange around my hips and thighs. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, distractedly.

“Listen to me.” She glared, eyes deep with emotion.

“You both seem determined to keep your horns locked, but that will only make what lies ahead harder. Let him help you. Let him comfort you and care for you.” She shoved down a rise of emotion.

“The Mage Seer and her ritual are dangerous. If you try to go it alone, I fear you won’t come back. ”

“Agatha—” I shook my head. “I’ll do my best.” Accepting his care would be difficult now that I knew it filled him with such resentment.

My gaze slipped across the aisle to Theodore.

He wore a clean but dirt-stained brown shirt, with patched trousers and scuffed boots, claiming it was best to look unassuming in the Varian wildlands.

The lack of finery did nothing to diminish him.

In fact, I preferred him like this. With his waving hair catching the light, and his threadbare clothes draping over his lean muscles.

In silence, Agatha watched me. “I’ll warn you… it won’t be a clean separation.”

My attention snapped back to her. “What do you mean?”

She spoke in a whisper, brow rippled with empathy. “I see what’s between you two. It’s barbed and messy, but there’s something there.”

I bit at my lip, determined in my avoidance, and shoved the hem of my overly large shirt into my trousers.

Agatha’s look of empathy morphed quickly to one of harried pity. She huffed a breath. “Maybe you’ve deceived yourself, but not me. Not Lachlan either.”

“What does it matter?” I asked, tense and quiet.

“He’s a king. And I’m…” I gave an angry laugh.

“What am I? An orphan, a murderer. He’s going to be married to a princess who is beautiful and perfectly suited to him.

And even if our circumstances were different…

” An unbidden memory of Evander, bent and submerged in my tub, flashed through my mind.

I rubbed my eye, wishing I could tear the memory out.

“Theodore will bring me back from the Mage Seer alive, because it’s his duty to do so.

Then I’ll say my goodbyes and be off on my final task. ”

Agatha reached for me. “Imogen—”

I strode away, out into the stable yard where Theodore and Lachlan led the first horse. Agatha wanted to mine my emotions like they were jewels, precious and worth inspecting, but I was happy leaving them buried deep. I’d be damned if I complicated things further. “Are we ready?”

“Almost.” Lachlan strode past to retrieve the horses’ reins.

Out in the bright yard, Theodore didn’t even acknowledge me. He’d slipped deeper into some unyielding, stolid exoskeleton of despondency.

I shifted in discomfort. “Should we eat before we go?” I asked, trying to cut through the unease.

Theodore tested a saddle strap with a tug. “You can eat on the horse.”

I was tempted to meet his rough mood in equal measure. I raised my chin, then stopped. Perhaps… perhaps if I became like water—if I curved around him, wore him down—we might both survive the coming week. “That’s a good plan,” I replied, softly.

Theodore’s jaw feathered. He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted in one graceful movement.

Agatha was at my side. “Be safe.”

I nodded. “See you in a week.”

My mare was pretty and shining black. I stood beside her and tried to mimic Theodore’s easy mount, but I got my boot into the stirrup and froze. “I… I’ve never ridden alone before.”

Lachlan let out a defeated breath. “Fucking Gods, you tell us now ?” He strode toward me and stood close. As he tugged me around the front of my horse he spoke low, so only I could hear. “Be patient with Theo. He’s as scared as you are. Maybe more.”