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CHAPTER TWENTY

T he morning light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting soft golden pillars across Torrin’s chambers. He stirred underneath the covers, his eyes fluttering open to the warmth of Valora’s presence by his side. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close in his sleep.

For a moment, Torrin simply lay there, content, not wanting to move or break the tranquility of the morning.

His heart pounded in his chest. He had never been one to linger long in the early hours, but waking up like this, with her in his arms, felt like a rare and precious moment. He wanted to get the most out of it.

But soon, Valora stirred, her body shifting to the side as her eyes slowly blinked open, and she looked up at him in confusion. For a passing moment, neither of them spoke, both unsure of where exactly they were, as if the world outside had momentarily ceased to exist.

"Good mornin’," Torrin whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She turned her head to face him, and then, as if some spell had been broken, both of them froze as they realized where they were and what they were doing.

They were wrapped up in the sheets, arms and legs twisting around each other in a tangled mess.

Before Torrin knew what he was doing, he was desperately trying to untangle himself.

At the same time, Valora began to flail around, equally flustered and in a hurry to be untangled from him, but with their combined efforts, all they managed to do was get even more tangled up in the sheets, making it impossible for them to escape.

Arms got caught in sheets, legs twisted together, and before either of them could think to stop it, they both fell off the side of the bed with a loud thud.

"I… I dinnae ken how this happened," Valora mumbled, and when Torrin turned to face her, her cheeks a red so bright that she seemed to be glowing from within. "Fergive me."

"Nay, nay, it is I who must ask fer yer forgiveness," Torrin said, waving a hand dismissively as he still tried to untangle himself from the mess of sheets, only for him to drag the covers down to the floor in his failed attempt.

In the end, he sat down on the floor with a huff and ran a hand through his hair.

Next to him, Valora was having similar troubles.

Torrin couldn’t help but laugh. What else could he do other than laugh at the ridiculousness of their situation? There they were, two grown adults tangled in the sheets, trying to get free to no avail. Despite the awkwardness of their situation, it was impossible to remain serious.

Valora laughed, too, though softly, the sound barely audible to Torrin’s ears; still, crystal clear, like a bubbling brook.

There was something about that laugh, something that filled his chest with a warmth that lingered.

The more he listened to it, the more he craved it, like the sweet burn of whisky down his throat.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, finally managing to untangle himself.

Then, he walked over to Valora and offered her his hand, which she took after a moment of hesitation.

As he helped her up, Valora fixed her clothes in a hurry, smoothing her hands over the fabric in an attempt to appear decent—even though Torrin was anything but.

Still, her hair was a mess around her head, her face and eyes puffy with sleep, and no matter how hard she tried to appear decent enough for polite company, it seemed like an impossible task.

But Torrin liked her like that. He liked her soft with sleep, her hair mussed and her eyes still half-closed. There was something intimate about it.

He didn’t even realize when he began to lean in close, drawn closer to Valora like a moth is drawn to a flame. She was utterly magnetic, her mere presence enough to drive every other thought out of Torrin’s mind.

As he leaned closer, so did Valora, tilting her head up to meet him halfway—only for there to be a knock on the door, which opened before Torrin could even respond.

There were only two people who entered his chambers like that, and only one of them was currently in the castle—Noah, who was so used to Torrin being alone that he never had to wait to be allowed in.

The three of them froze, glancing at each other in equal measures of shock and horror. Quickly, and again before Torrin could utter a single word, Noah left the room once more, closing the door behind him.

From the other side of the door, Noah’s voice called, "Fergive me. I didnae mean to intrude. But I must speak with ye."

Even through the door, his tone was strained, embarrassed, and Torrin couldn’t help but feel the same embarrassment in his gut, his stomach twisting with it.

It was foolish—Noah had seen him in much worse situations, and much more suggestive ones, and yet never before had either of them been this embarrassed about it.

They had only laughed and patted each other on the back, and moved on with their days.

In the time it had taken Noah to leave the room—those short seconds of fleeing—Valora had fled herself, jumping to the other side of the room and as far away from Torrin as she could.

Her entire face and chest were flushed, the tips of her ears burning a bright red, and Torrin didn’t know if it would be better to comfort her in some way or to leave her alone.

He glanced at her for a moment, but she didn’t return his gaze. Then, he approached the door but didn’t dare open it. "What is it?"

There was a moment of silence that Torrin didn’t know if he should interpret as hesitation or as Noah having left. In the end, though, his voice reached him through the door once more. "There’s trouble around the borderlands," he said.

He didn’t give any more information, as he would have if Valora wasn’t there, though Torrin didn’t know whether that was because he didn’t trust her for some reason or because whatever trouble there had been was simply too brutal to be mentioned in her presence.

"I’ll be right there," Torrin said and proceeded to quickly get ready for the day.

"Miss MacNeacail’s belongings are here, as well," said Noah. "I will have the servants bring them here."

"Thank ye, Noah," said Torrin as he took a look at his reflection in the looking-glass near the door. "I’ll meet ye in me study."

Torrin heard the characteristic sound of footsteps receding as Noah made his way down the hall.

He had half a mind to leave as he was, in rumpled clothes and with his hair disheveled, since no one but the guards and the servants would see him on his way to the study, but in the end, he decided against it.

For all he knew, if it was as serious as it seemed, then the situation would demand a lot more out of him—a meeting with his council, perhaps, or a swift departure for the borderlands.

Either way, it was better to be prepared.

Stepping behind the screen opposite the bed, Torrin began to dress in fresh clothes.

As he walked past the screen, he found Valora with her back turned to him, as though the mere thought of him changing only a few feet away was too embarrassing to handle.

"I… I willnae be long, I hope," he told her, and only then did she turn around to look at him. Even now, her cheeks were a bright red that didn’t seem to fade, and Torrin had the irrational thought it never would. "Or I might. I dinnae ken what the issue is."

"That’s alright," Valora assured him gently. "I’m sure Daisy will be more than happy tae keep me company."

"Ye two have become fast friends," Torrin said, and it was more of an observation rather than a question. He had seen the two of them interact at dinner and outside, in the gardens, and they seemed to have gotten very close in the few days Valora had spent in the castle.

"Och aye," said Valora. "She’s been lovely tae me."

"I’m glad," said Torrin, and he meant it. After everything Valora had been through, she deserved to have a good friend, and he couldn’t think of anyone better suited to the task than Daisy. "Well, I shall go an’ see what Noah wants."

God, this is embarrassing.

With that, Torrin left the room after receiving a nod from Valora. As he left, he couldn’t take his mind off the kiss they had not shared that morning, but it seemed too late to go back now.

Instead, he went to his study, where Noah was already waiting for him with a cup of wine in his hand. On the desk stood another cup, one that Noah had poured for him, and as Torrin took his seat behind it, he reached for it and drained half its contents in one go.

"What news dae ye bring?" Torrin asked.

"Soldiers were found dead around the borders," said Noah, his voice strained with anger. "Half a dozen o’ them."

Torrin couldn’t help but release a long-suffering sigh, one that seemed to drain all the air out of him. He shook his head, the familiar grief of losing his people quickly creeping in.

"Keith men?" Torrin asked.

"We dinnae ken," said Noah. "But I would suspect it is Keith men, aye."

O’ course it is Keith men. Who else would it be?

"First, they kill our scouts an’ now our guards," said Torrin bitterly, shaking his head. "Well, if it is war that Alban Keith wants, war is what he shall have."

"Torrin… we should wait," cautioned Noah. "We should wait fer yer weddin’ with Miss MacNeacail, an’ then, once we have the forces?—"

"I dinnae ken if we have the time tae wait," Torrin said. "If Keith attacks, then we will have nay choice but tae defend ourselves."

"But if he daesnae, we shouldnae be the ones tae start the war."

"Aye," said Torrin. "But he will. Ye ken he will."

Noah said nothing, because it was true; they both knew Laird Keith would be the one to start the war, and soon. Nothing they could do or say would stop that.

"Prepare fer travel," Torrin told Noah as he stood and made his way to the door. "We leave fer the borderlands in an hour."