Page 22 of This Midsummer Heart (Seasons of Legend #4)
Chapter twenty-one
Memories
Auberon
T
itaine
settles
into
“her”
side of the bed without even thinking about it, even though I’ll now have to climb over her to get to the far side of the bed. My heart skips a beat. She’s probably never stopped sleeping on that side, even after I was permanently evicted from her bed and home.
Setting the basin and ewer on the wash table, I take my time working at the mud on my clothing. When I’m sure Titaine’s eyes are closed, I remove my jerkin and the chain mail beneath it, hanging it to dry on one of the wall pegs.
With the air so close in this tiny room, I would’ve been more comfortable sleeping in less. But I can’t quite bear to climb into bed over Titaine while half-dressed. It’s too intimate. Too familiar. I replace the jerkin and resign myself to an unpleasant night.
Every muscle in my body tight, I climb awkwardly into bed, my long limbs nearly keeping me from touching Titaine at all.
Her eyes flutter open. “Don’t be getting any ideas, husband.”
“The only idea I have, wife, is of sleep.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I echo with a huff. “I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas, either.”
“As if I would!”
“Don’t make it sound preposterous. You had plenty of ideas about me, once.”
“A long time ago,” she murmurs, turning her face into the noisy pillow.
She’s quiet after that. As I wriggle under the covers, however, another problem presents itself.
Titaine’s wings.
“What are you—stop touching my wings!” Titaine cries out, tugging on the blanket.
“They’re in the way.” Relaxed like this, Titaine’s ghostly wings are like draping silk, and not the easiest to move so I can slide the rest of the way into bed.
But I have experience in this department.
If I don’t get them out of the way, I’m bound to roll over onto one or pin it beneath my elbow in my sleep, which would then wake Titaine, which would then wake me when she starts screaming like a banshee.
Despite Titaine stealing most of the blanket and wriggling to the very edge of the bed, I manage to drape her wing forward over her arm. The other, I fold as best I can, shoving the upper end under the pillow.
“Was that really necessary?” Titaine complains.
“Very.” I settle myself in, shoving aside the buckwheat pillow on my side of the bed. Better to put it between us. As I yank my portion of the blanket back, I whisper, “Good night, wife.”
Titaine scoffs. I swear I hear her murmur the words “elven law” before I drift off, exhausted.
Sleeping in the same bed as Titaine might’ve felt routine, but waking up beside her? That is another experience entirely.
Sometime during the night, she slipped closer to me, the pillow that is now pressed tightly between us all that keeps her from burrowing into my chest. Every part of me aches—and not just from all the travel—as I slowly extricate myself from the tangle of her wings and limbs.
Wakeful Titaine might insist she wants nothing to do with me, but asleep, it seems she wants nothing more than to completely possess me.
Now that the storms have passed, reddish morning light slips through the curtains at my back, lighting up her hair so that it shows gold. All of her is glowing softly with the energy of the morning sun. Titaine is still a creature of magic even as it abandons the rest of the world.
My breath catches in my throat. One glimpse of gold-limned hair, and the memories of a hundred such mornings tear through my mind.
Mornings when we’d been happy, before everything went so very wrong between us—before Titaine shut me out.
Mornings when I draped my arm over her without a thought, holding her just a little closer before reluctantly rising to meet the day.
These are memories from another lifetime, when waking beside this fae woman filled me with a sense of home I have not felt since.
It hurts—actually, physically hurts—to remember that feeling. It’s as though it’s being ripped from me anew.
Stifling a groan, I realize I’m nearly as soaked and sticky as when I went to sleep. Quickly but carefully, I extricate myself from the bedding, trying not to wake Titaine. She stirs, then falls back into quiet, even breathing.
I take this opportunity to wash up using the pitcher and basin the innkeeper’s wife brought us. The water is murky, but with how stuffy and hot this upper room is, I almost welcome it.
In silence, I remove my sleeveless jerkin and begin to wash with a cloth, still damp and not a little dirty from using it to clean my clothes last night. It will do. Everything now will have to do.
I am no longer a Houselord, and in this land, I am barely even a king.
As I drag the cloth down the side of my neck, starting in on my chest, I have the distinct feeling I’m being watched. I don’t know whether to be self-conscious, or pleased.
It’s heady enough, knowing Titaine doesn’t even hate me. But to think that she still wants me—that she still finds me attractive, if not desirable?
Actually, I’m not sure what I’d do with that information.
I glance at Titaine, but of course she has her eyes closed again, pretending as though she wasn’t watching me. I can tell she isn’t asleep.
“Just say the word, Titaine,” I say, forcing a mischievous smirk onto the side of my face she can see. I try to hide the slight, nervous tremble in my limbs as I continue to wash.
“What?” She tries to sound muzzy, as if I’ve just woken her, but I know. I no longer have to pretend to wear a cavalier grin.
Oh, yes. Titaine is still attracted to me after all. Even after everything. Even after spending days with me on end.
I could float the rest of the way to Nox.
“Say the word, and I’ll hop back into that bed with you. We could use it properly. We’re husband and wife, even if it is only by elven law. No one would bat an eye. Or,” I add, my voice lowering, “I could just hold you close while we sleep in.”
“You,” she says, no longer bothering to sound sleepy, “are the last person I’d ask for a cuddle.”
I let that hang between us for a moment. “That wasn’t a no on the other suggestion.”
“In your dreams.”
“In your
dreams, actually. You wer
e dreaming about me, weren’t you?”
Her golden tan skin immediately flushes deep red. Well. What were
you dreaming about, Titaine? Maybe I’m not the only one remembering our best times.
I could make her squirm with another well-earned jab, but my heart isn’t much in it. For tangled with the more intimate memories of our happy years together are the more innocent ones that have meant just as much to me.
I think of my first glimpse of her on the forest road through northwest Laufee, a stunning woman who was breathless yet made of shining steel as we both raced in to keep our parties’ scouts from starting another war between the elves and fae.
The first moment her eyes softened just a touch as we exchanged verbal jabs about the trade caravan we were each hoping to secure for our Houses.
The first moment she looked at me and thought, Well, he is more formidable than I thought.
The first time she regarded me with respect, as I offered to split the caravan with her House as a gesture of goodwill. And the first moment we kissed beside the bonfire on the way back to Avalonne, the tensions of our Houses’ enmity melting away as the star-filled night loosened our inhibitions.
It wasn’t love at first sight. But these were the moments that planted the seeds of my love for her. And I cannot forget them, no matter how much they make my heart ache.
I finish washing and dress quickly, using the excuse of retrieving my cloak from the innkeepers to give Titaine room to wash and ready herself. But the truth is, I need air.
The little room has never felt as stifling as it does now, filled with memories of the beautiful life I no longer have. Titaine might not hate me, but it doesn’t mean she’ll forgive me.
Until that happens—if it ever does—I will never be free of this pain.