Page 39 of The Arrow and the Alder

“S oon,” Alder said. “And preferably by the time I return.”

Josephine’s eyes widened with alarm. “Where are you going?”

Alder looked back to the embers. It was difficult holding his train of thought with her standing there beside him, with the light illuminating her feminine silhouette through the thin fabric of her nightdress, her cheeks pink and hair as wild as if he’d just ravaged her in the bed.

Had she really never been with a man?

It made Alder feel positively debauched. And then he thought that Rys would kill him if he knew the sort of thoughts he was having about his sister. To be fair, Alder was not trying to have them. In fact, he’d made a valiant effort to stay away from Josephine, not only to keep her safe from himself, but also because he wasn’t used to a woman taking up so much space in his head.

Carrying her on his back hadn’t helped either, and bathing her had been its own form of torture, but—Demas as his witness—Alder had done his best not to look at her naked body. He’d respected her privacy as best he could, averting his gaze whenever possible. It helped that Sienne kept glaring at him, but Alder’s primary motivation had been knowing that Josephine wouldn’t want him to look. He just hadn’t expected her to be so embarrassed.

It was endearing, really, and it brought a brilliant shade of pink to her cheeks, one that made him want to carry her right over to that bed and show her just what he thought of her body.

He didn’t, of course. He might be a selfish ass, but he wasn’t a total boor.

“To…pay a visit to my uncle,” Alder said tightly. “We need far greater numbers, and I believe he can supply that. Lord Hammerfell employed Weald’s largest army, and he served my mother with unfailing loyalty, which I hope to persuade him to transfer to me.”

“But if this uncle of yours was so loyal to your mother, why is he not here?”

Alder wondered that too, but Evora had told him a story that had given him hope. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out. We need his army if I am to have a chance at ripping Weald out of Massie’s sharp claws.”

Josephine stood quietly, but he didn’t dare look at her.

“And…how long will you be gone?” she asked.

She sounded concerned, and maybe even a little upset, which encouraged Alder where he hadn’t dared allow himself to be encouraged before.

“A week…maybe more. It all depends on how happy my uncle is to see me.” He’d also have to convince his uncle to pull fighters from the front lines, and only the Fates knew how long that could take, but he did not say this to Josephine.

“I want to come with you,” she said suddenly.

Alder looked at her then, into those brilliant sky-blues, and he had the overwhelming urge to kiss her. “Not this time.”

Her eyes flashed with indignation. “Why not?”

He wanted to tell her yes. He could use her skill, and also the idea of being away from her for any extended period of time was not one he liked overmuch. Especially when one considered they had only two months before the curse destroyed this world.

He wished he could say Josephine’s interpretation was wrong, but he could feel it. In the air, in the trees, like a body decomposing.

“Your shoulder is the primary reason,” he replied. “It’s healing well, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“And your other reasons?”

“Well.” Alder pushed off the mantel and stood tall. “ Your elders would like your help with the coat.”

“I don’t see what I can do. I can’t even read basic enchantments.”

“But if you’re given the translation of the enchantments they know, perhaps you can find a pattern they did not. Fresh perspective, and all. Regardless, Tyrin believes that you’re tied to the coat, as Abecka believed, and I can’t say I disagree. As much as I would like your skill at my side, I think it might be a better use of our time if you’re here, fighting the battle on this front. Especially since you’re still recovering.”

Josephine studied him a long moment while her rounded bosom rose and fell with a full breath, and it was all Alder could do to keep his gaze affixed to her face. This resolve was further challenged when she started fidgeting with the little moonstone ring that once again rested innocently between her breasts, mocking all his sensibilities.

“Do you have history with Celia?” Josephine asked unexpectedly.

She might as well have tossed cold water over him.

He went rigid, his tone careful as he said, “Why do you ask?”

Josephine moved her hand from the ring and tucked a clump of her hair behind her rounded ears. “Well. You say they are my elders, and I can’t help but remember when I first met them. Celia didn’t appear thrilled by your return, and her issue with you seemed to stem from a…personal nature.”

Alder didn’t want to talk about this right now. Or ever.

Josephine still wouldn’t meet his gaze, but he was thankful for it, especially when she added, “If I am going to work with them or even consider staying after—and that is if , because I will be making sure my family is all right first—I would like to know if there are any…present complications between the people of Light and yours as you step into the role your mother left behind.”

The question was reasonable, if not insightful, dammit.

“Yes, I have history with Celia.” Alder ground out the words.

Josephine’s eyes met his. Those blues. So clear, so bright, blazing like the sun, shining with a fire that burned deep inside of her. A fire that kept drawing him nearer, though he’d tried so hard to stay away.

A fire that kept burning away all his impurities to get to the truth of him.

“What sort of history?” she asked.

Alder turned back to the hearth and raked a hand through his hair. Fates, he really did not want to talk about this. “We were betrothed.”

Josephine stilled beside him.

“My mother hoped to improve relations between our kingdoms, and to…settle my spirit,” Alder continued stiffly.

“And…?”

Of course that wouldn’t be enough. He met her gaze, forcing his features calm. “That was a long time ago.”

Josephine raised a brow. “And yet it clearly still affects one of my elders.”

“Oh, so you’ve decided she’s one of your elders?”

“I am in the process of deciding, Prince of Weald, and I would like to know exactly what I’m walking into, or if this history of yours is going to cause problems for me as we proceed.”

Alder stared at her. He couldn’t seem to stop staring, and he suddenly remembered she was waiting for an answer.

“Well…?” she pressed like any respectable tyrant.

Alder groaned. He dragged a hand over his face and rubbed his temple.

“Is it really so bad?” she asked, somewhat soberly.

“It depends on which of us you ask…” he murmured.

“Sorry?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Nothing. Just…” Alder had never not wanted to admit the truth more in his entire life. “The crux of the matter is that I went along with it for a while, only to appease my mother, though I had no intention of following through or settling down. Celia, however, had given me her heart?—”

“Is that all she gave you?”

Alder winced as he said, “No.”

How Alder hated the quiet that followed.

“I see,” Josephine said at last in an irritatingly neutral tone. “Is this an example of the terms in which you left Weald for the war?”

Alder pressed his lips so firmly together that his teeth carved into the backs of them. “Yes.”

Josephine regarded him a long moment, those damnable thoughts hidden, and then she sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…Your past is none of my business, but it does affect my present.”

Alder laughed darkly. “It affects mine too.”

Her expression turned curious.

“Celia will never forgive me,” he continued. “I’ve no false notion that she will, but she loves her kingdom and her kin, and I know she’ll put her hatred toward me aside if it means liberating her people. She won’t be an issue for you.” Except for potentially awkward interchanges, especially if she suspected how Alder felt about Josephine, but of course he kept this to himself.

They stood quietly again, and for the first time in Alder’s life, he found himself rendered speechless. He knew he had no right to want or expect anything more from Josephine, and if he’d been a gentleman, he would have excused himself. He would give her space to rest, space from him.

“I have something for you,” he said instead, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a little leather-bound book. “I found this in Abecka’s office while we were sorting through her things and thought you might like to have it. And yes, before you ask, Priestess Nistarra already gave me permission.”

Josephine’s guard fell, and she appraised the little book with open wonder. “What is it?”

“A book of old kith stories and poetry. It belongs to your grandfather.”

Josephine stared at the book. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Alder flipped open to the page at the beginning that said, in elementary script, “Property of Jakobián Alistair Risorro Molto the Third,” like a child still coming to terms with his full name.

A little gasp escaped her as she took the book from Alder’s hands. Her fingers brushed his, and the sensation jolted right through his body. She flipped through the pages, poring over all the script that her grandfather had scribbled into the margins. “Oh, sacred saints…” she whispered with a joy that bathed him in her sunlight.

“There used to be a number of these in circulation,” Alder said quietly, watching her. “I can’t remember the last time I saw one.”

“Thank you for this,” she said in a trembling voice, and she looked up at Alder as if he had just given her the world.

Right then, he wanted to.

Her gaze clung to his as tightly as her fingers clutched that little book, and the moment expanded. Josephine had never been more radiant, with all that joy pouring out of her and spilling onto him. Alder couldn’t pull his eyes away. She was utterly captivating with her huge blue eyes and those wisps of silvery-white hair curling from her face. Her lips were open a shade, so very plump and pink and kissable, and that was all he wanted to do. Kiss her. Here, now. Deep into her pillows. He wanted to kiss her until his mouth ached, until he couldn’t breathe, until he’d tasted every last inch of her.

Demas have mercy.

Her gaze moved over his face, and—to his surprise—she reached out and pressed her palm to his cheek. “What am I to do with you, Alder Marcus Tiridium Vetiver?”

He caught her hand and turned it over, palm up, as he slowly brought it to his mouth. He should have left right then, but he couldn’t help himself. “Please don’t call me by my full name.”

“Why ever not?”

“It makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” He pressed the softest kiss to the underside of her wrist, and she shuddered.

“You are in trouble.”

“And why is that?” He kissed her thumb next, and then her pointer finger.

“Because I tried so hard not to care for you, but you made it impossible.”

The place behind his breastbone constricted, and he kissed her middle finger next. And then her ring finger. “Now you know how I feel.” Her pinky. “And how I have felt every single day since I first laid eyes on you in the woods.”

“You knew who I was then?” she whispered.

He gazed at her over their joined hands, and the look in her eyes nearly undid him. With his other hand, he pushed back the wisps of hair from her forehead, and her eyelids shuttered. “I did. You fit your brother’s description exactly.”

“How so…?”

His fingers slid from her temple and down along her jawline to the soft indent in her chin. It was so strong and feminine and unyielding. “He said that you were the bravest woman he’d ever met. That you anchored yourself in truth, no matter how the world might try to toss you about. That you were his compass, that he wished he had half your constitution, and that you look a little bit like a lion.”

She mocked offense, though her eyes flashed with mirth. “So you think I look like a lion?”

Alder grinned and leaned closer still, their faces just a slip apart. He could hear her staggered breathing as he trailed his fingertips over her lips. “Oh, yes. I just hadn’t expected a lion could be so beautiful.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Alder.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know…I don’t even know how old you are.”

He traced her exquisite features with his gaze, and all of its gorgeous color. “Does this bother you?”

“Yes,” she said, all breath, though it was mixed a little with despair. “You could have lived lifetimes.”

“I haven’t.”

“But you’ve already lived a long life, and I know nothing of it.”

There was so much vulnerability in her tone, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort every fear she was laying bare. “I am one hundred and twenty-three?—”

She jerked back. “One hundred and?—?!”

He pressed the pad of his thumb against her lips before she could finish. “I have lived a long life, I know. Too long, honestly, because I filled every single one of those years indulging in things that I thought would bring me pleasure, but they’ve all ended in nothing but torment, pain, and regret. It’s why I wandered for so long before gathering the courage to go to Harran. To do what I promised your brother. This was the one unselfish thing that I did, and then…there you were.”

Her expression broke just a little, and it emboldened him to go on.

“All that light and color and goodness…I’ve tried to stay away from you. Truly, I have, because I know it’s abominably selfish to drag you into the mire of my wretched life. But I can’t keep myself away, and Josephine…my little arrow, so sharp and so true…I have fallen in love with you.”

Those sky-blue eyes stared at him, huge and round and brimming with emotion. He was close enough that her breath brushed his lips, and it smelled faintly of honeysuckle.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered.

Her eyelids slid lower as she stared at his mouth. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s probably a terrible idea,” he admitted. “ If you decide to stay, your elders will certainly have…other suitors in mind.”

“I thought so.”

Neither of them moved, and his thumb was still on her lips.

“I think I’d like for you to kiss me anyway,” she whispered.

Heat rose like an inferno inside of him. In fact, some of his power slipped out, and the embers in the hearth caught flame. He dipped his head a little lower so that the tip of his nose brushed hers. “You think .”

Their breaths were a hot cloud between them.

She tilted her nose up, brushing his in return, bringing her lips closer. “Alder.”

Hearing his name on her lips, spoken so breathily—well, it was all he could do to hold on to his self-control. Truthfully, he deserved an award for it. “Have you decided?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’ve decided, or yes, you would like me to?—”

Alder never got to finish, because Josephine pulled his thumb away and kissed him. Alder chuckled against her mouth, but then she abruptly pulled back. Her face pinched with indignation, and a bit of mortification, while that wild and beautiful hair curled out from her flushed cheeks, and her neckline had—once again—slipped from one shoulder, leaving it bare. All in all, Alder thought she looked like a veritable goddess.

A goddess who’d completely misread his reaction and was quickly shielding herself in a posture of defense.

Alder grabbed her face in his hands before she could shield herself more, and she fell still, gazing at him while her rounded bosom rose and fell quickly. Alder looked over her face, at her full lips, and then he dipped his head and kissed her properly.

By the Fates, her lips were even softer than he’d imagined, and he had imagined them plenty. They were very timid too, hesitant but clinging, almost as if she were still uncertain, and though Alder felt a sharp and sudden stab of hunger, he didn’t move her along any faster. He captured her lips with his, giving her time in case she changed her mind. If this was all she wanted from him, he swore to Demas, he would learn to be content with that.

It might kill him.

He could think of worse ways to die.

But then she slid her arms around his neck and started playing with his hair, and that was all the permission Alder needed.

His next kiss wasn’t soft at all. Actually, it might have been a little aggressive, but Holy Father of kith, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding himself back, and now he felt as though he were slowly drowning. Clinging to her mouth, taking her in his arms as though she alone might hold him afloat, and she melted right into him. All that muscular warmth that was soft in all the right places. He’d thought too much about her shape when she’d been riding on his back, with her strong legs wrapped around him, and he’d wondered how they might feel…well, in a setting more like this.

The groan that escaped her lips slid right into his body and set every part of him aflame. His hands moved greedily over her waist and magnificent curves, though he was careful with her injury. He tangled his hands into her thick mane of hair and coaxed her lips open with his own, pushing his way into her mouth with his tongue. She tasted like honey and heat and everything that was right in the world, and the more he kissed her, the bolder her kisses became. Her tongue pushed right back, and her body pressed against his. It was how their relationship had been since the day he’d met her, Alder thought with a smile. This exquisite woman constantly pushing back against his will.

Pushing her way into his life and right into his heart.

Alder was done for.

They were a tangle of heady kisses and grasping hands and heavy breaths. Alder could feel every ounce of her perfect little body through that thin nightdress, and he was about to feel every ounce of her with out that nightdress if he didn’t stop right now.

“Josephine,” he said on her lips. He squeezed up her arms to grab her hands, which were locked around his neck. “My darling.”

She pulled back just a little, breathing hard, and the swell of her lips and the look in her eyes nearly incinerated his resolve.

Alder swallowed hard and kissed her left cheek, then her right. “I need to leave.”