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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

H er sister, married to a monster whose only desire was to use her for his gain and benefit.

Her kind, innocent sister, in the hands of the man who would never love her and who would simply demand things from her until she had nothing left to give.

Her sister, who would endure it all if she knew she had to, just as Valora had endured her fair share of things.

That was the nightmare that woke her, drenched in cold sweat and shivering even under the covers. She opened her eyes with a start, her gaze panicked as she looked around the still unfamiliar room, wondering where she was.

But her hand was clasped securely in Torrin’s, who was laying on the floor next to her. He didn’t have any blankets. He didn’t have any of his pillows or his furs, but was simply laying on the cold stone floor, holding her hand.

His breathing was steady and it seemed to her as though he was asleep. If he was awake, he gave no indication of it even as Valora stirred. How long had he been there, she wondered? Did he know she was having a nightmare and had come to soothe her, only to fall asleep next to her like this?

Her stomach gave a funny flip at the thought and a strange warmth spread over her chest, warming her from the inside.

All her life, the only person who truly cared about her was Althea, and before she was gone, their mother.

All her life, Valora had been searching for someone who would care about her like this, who would hold her hand when she had a nightmare, when she couldn’t sleep.

Was Torrin that man? Could it be that despite their circumstances, despite her stubbornness, he had always been the one she was looking for?

It was late at night, well past midnight, and Valora didn’t trust herself with these thoughts.

It was easy to be a romantic in the darkness of the night, when there was no one else around, but it wasn’t as easy in the light of the day.

Come morning, she would have to confront everything else—her fears for the future, her fears that a marriage could never be a good thing for a woman, her fears that she would never find love because such love did not exist in anyone but her mother and her sister.

She needed to consider her response to Torrin with logic as much as with emotion.

She couldn’t give in to this desire to be loved and not look at the facts—the main of which was that she didn’t know him at all and what she perceived as care could be nothing more than a mirage, an illusion to lull her into a false sense of security.

But would Torrin ever dae such a thing?

The point, she realized, was not whether or not Torrin would do such a thing, but rather the fact that she didn’t know him well enough to answer her own question.

Valora had woken up that morning in better spirits than the previous night.

Now, in the courtyard, playing with Arrow, she couldn’t help but laugh as he excitedly tried to catch the stick she threw at him only to miss completely.

She didn’t think she would ever tire of this, playing with this sweet creature until they were both exhausted and ready for some much-needed rest. When she caught sight of Torrin and Noah walking past, though, she stopped and followed them with her gaze for a while, watching them as they walked towards the training grounds.

Valora had seen her father’s men in the training grounds, but she had never seen Torrin himself train, although the first night she had met him she had watched his prowess when defending her from Keith’s men.

She was curious, so she followed them down the path and lingered by the training grounds, watching with Arrow by her side, for he had become her permanent shadow, there was no getting rid of him.

There were other men already in the training grounds.

It was a balmy day, the sun shining through the sparse clouds, and everyone seemed to be outside, enjoying the weather.

Valora couldn’t possibly imagine how training with swords was entertaining for these men but she had heard them laugh and joke with each other before, playfully pushing each other around.

Before they began sparring, Torrin and Noah removed their shirts, stepping into the circle that had been marked on the ground.

Each was armed with a dull sword, their blades glinting under the sunlight, reflecting the morning sun.

Valora watched as Torrin craned his neck one way, then the other, as if trying to stretch.

"Ach, I’m never sleepin’ on the floor again," he told Noah, and Valora couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought that he was so sore now because of her.

But of course, she couldn’t share the bed with him; he would either have to let her have different chambers, move to different chambers himself, or suffer the floor.

"Is this an excuse I hear?" Noah teased, only for Torrin to roll his eyes at him.

"Ye can try an’ see if ye can beat me, even like this."

Laughter rippled through the other men, who had also stopped to watch Torrin and Noah spar. It seemed to be a spectacle of sorts—two of the clan’s greatest warriors fighting each other, even in jest, was something they didn’t want to miss.

There were no more words exchanged between them.

They both assumed a fighting stance, taking several steps back and circling each other for a while.

Valora was quite certain they each knew the other’s fighting styles and strategies very well after training together for several years, but perhaps they were trying to surprise each other.

Or perhaps it was all for show; an exhibition of strength for the younger soldiers.

Under the light of the morning sun, Torrin’s dark hair shone like his blade. Like always, it was tied back at the nape, and Valora’s gaze kept being drawn back there, to his nape and his neck, the strong, straight line of it.

From the moment they had met, she had admitted to herself that Torrin was a very attractive man, but now that she had gotten to know him better, there was something even more alluring to him.

She liked the way he appeared one thing when he could be another.

She had seen both sides of him—the one that seemed to match his rough appearance, the one where he acted cold and severe, and the side of him that was directly at odds with it, which was warm and kind and caring.

She preferred the latter, but it was the stark difference between the two that intrigued her the most.

Finally, Torrin and Noah charged at each other, their blades clashing with a clang.

It was nothing but a testing blow, Valora knew—they both attacked and parried each other effortlessly, testing the waters.

Then, they stepped back and tried again, testing different techniques, different approaches, different angles.

They clashed again and again, blades glinting, groans and huffs drawn out of them both as they exerted themselves more and more.

The entire time, Valora watched Torrin as though she was hypnotized, her gaze never leaving him.

The more he fought, the more his torso was covered in sweat, glinting under the sunlight.

Strands of his hair began to fall from the tight knot on the back of his nape, and by the end of it all, he looked like a different man—like a warrior more than a laird, as capable as he was savage.

The fight ended with Torrin’s sword pointing at Noah’s neck. For a moment, they both froze, before they broke into identical grins, clasping each other’s hands. They pulled each other close, into a half hug, and patted each other’s back before finally breaking apart once more.

"Who’s next?" Torrin asked, and the one who stepped up was a young boy with a sword half as long as Torrin’s. Chuckles echoed all around once more, but Torrin held up a hand.

"Nay, nay… everyone must try," he said. "Come, lad, show me what ye can dae."

The young boy assumed his fighting stance and he and Torrin began to dance around each other.

Valora watched as Torrin moved fluidly, just as he had done with Noah, but this time exhibited much more care in the way he moved and the way he handled his sword.

He made sure that any hit that land did so gently, never so much as scraping the boy’s skin.

She was also quite certain that he was leaving himself vulnerable sometimes on purpose, but he wasn’t going easy on the child—quite the contrary, he was showing him how to fight.

It went like this for a while, the two of them exchanging blow after blow—the boy with abandon and Torrin with care.

He was keeping much of his strength back, it seemed to Valora, and the entire time, he was making sure to guide the boy as well, telling him where and how to strike, which movements and tactics would be most effective, what path he should follow.

He was a good teacher, and Valora was starting to realize how good he was with children. They seemed to gravitate towards him, seeking his company and guidance, and Valora couldn’t help but imagine him with a child of his own.

What would he be like, she wondered? How would he act with his heir, with a young boy who was just like him?

She shook those thoughts out of her head. It was best to observe and then make a decision, she reminded herself. Letting emotion cloud her judgement could only lead her astray.

"Aye!" cried Torrin, raising his sword in the air. "That’s it, laddie, dae that again."

The boy did as he was told, and this time, Torrin allowed the blow, taking some of the force of it. The boy’s blade slid over Torrin’s chest, leaving a faint pink line behind, and Torrin took that to mean defeat.

"Ach! I’ve been bested!" he said, much to the boy’s delight. The child celebrated by jumping around and waving his sword madly in the air, and Torrin reached over with a smile to ruffle the boy’s blond hair. "Off ye go now. Yer maither will be lookin’ fer ye tae make sure I didnae injure ye."

Just as fast as he had appeared, the boy rushed out of the training grounds, shouting his victory to anyone who would listen. Valora watched him with a fond smile, before she returned her gaze to Torrin—only to find him looking straight at her with a smirk that was half amused and half curious.

Instantly, her cheeks heated at having been caught.

She hadn’t been trying to hide her presence, but she didn’t think Torrin would stare right at her like that, as if calling out her indecency directly.

Before he could approach and try to speak to her, Valora turned around and all but ran away from the training grounds, as though her shame itself was chasing her like a real, physical threat.

Her only solace was that Arrow, like always now, was right behind her, following her footsteps. And Valora knew that she could say anything she wanted to him and he could never tell any of it to anyone else and he would never judge her.