Page 27

27

Dance with Nostalgia

W e stumble into daylight and cool, dry air. The shock of the change freezes my whole being—body and mind; I can’t move, I can only gasp and cling to Daenn’s hand as I try to take in our surroundings.

The dark humid jungle is gone. The stone walls of the temple. We stand on the edge of a forest, but instead of vines and vibrant flowers and ten dozen shades of green, these trees are full of bright orange and pink peaches. The trees end just before us—and a village begins. Stone houses clutter before us with little wooden fences framing their gardens. A dirt road snakes between them, and above them all rise mountains—and the largest peak I would recognize from any distance or angle: our clan’s mountain.

This must be Lissbury, the village at the base of our mountain.

Daenn pats Storm and steps back. “Go hunt. We’ll leave for the mountain as soon as you return.”

The sun is setting to the west, painting the sky the same shades of pink and orange as those peaches.

“Maybe we should sleep first and head out in the morning.” I’m reluctant to make the suggestion, but we both expended a great deal of energy in that fight—mere minutes ago, though the change in our environment makes it feel like days. We could use the rest before we face off against Viggo.

Daenn’s displeased, but he nods. “Come find us at the inn when you finish hunting, then.”

Storm twitches his wings, but he wastes no time in crouching and pushing into the air.

“No livestock!” Daenn calls after him, but whether the gryphon hears or not, we have no way of knowing. Hopefully no irate villagers come to complain about their sheep becoming supper.

Daenn watches Storm go. He’s still holding my hand, and I can’t even pretend I’m not glad for the touch after our unnatural trip through the portal, after that horrible fight before it.

“What now?” I desperately want the sleep I suggested, but I have never stayed in Lissbury before, only passed through.

Daenn glances at me, dropping my hand like he forgot I’m there until I spoke.

That’s fine. I don’t need his touch to anchor me.

I don’t.

“We can probably get a room at the inn. We might not be able to find clothes, but we could at least bathe.”

His words immediately draw up the last time I saw him shirtless, all that hard muscle and bare skin. I swallow and banish the image as I nod. “Good idea.” Unwelcome daydreams about my husband aside, a bath has never sounded so appealing as it does now.

Daenn starts toward the village immediately, and it takes us mere minutes to reach its heart. It’s a bustling place, and already people have noticed our presence. It would be hard not to, in such a small place—but even if it were a city, I think we’d draw eyes. And by we, I mean Daenn. How could he not? He commands attention without even trying, and his armor and weapons only enhance that, especially with how stained they are from the fight. He looks deadly, focused.

And he knows exactly where he’s going, because he cuts straight through the village to the only inn. It’s larger than any other building here, but it’s still a small building, despite being two stories. Daenn pulls the door open and holds it for me, so I enter first. I’m blinking at the stark dimness as Daenn steps up beside me.

It’s a cozy room, filled with tables and a crackling fire and a long, clean bar. Patrons are scattered throughout, partaking of food and drink that drift mouthwatering smells toward us.

The owner hurries forward and bows low. His eyes are wide, like Daenn is the last person he’d ever expect to see. “Your Majesty—you’re alive!”

Daenn’s jaw tightens, his only visible reaction to the words. Internally, though, he’s vacillating between shock and a hardening grimness.

Not as much shock as I would have expected.

“Why would you expect otherwise?” I ask the innkeeper.

He scratches under one ear. “It’s just—rumors from the mountain… Word is you fell on a journey in the Bompurak Jungle. I didn’t believe it at first—why would you be down there? But since the initial tale, even more rumors came of your cousin replacing you.”

Daenn’s grimness sharpens into anger, and I tense. It sounds like, despite the failure of the attackers when we first left, Viggo decided to try to swoop in on Daenn’s throne anyway, exactly as Daenn suspected.

The fool. He’ll be lucky if he survives our return with his life .

“The rumors were wrong.” Daenn’s words are flat, distracted. I can almost see his mind racing with how to handle Viggo’s treachery.

The innkeeper’s eyes widen further. He nods rapidly. “I should have known. I will be sure to pass along the true story to anyone who stops in. But—” He glances over us, as if only just noticing our travel-weary state. “What are you doing here?”

“We need a room,” I say when Daenn doesn’t immediately respond. “Two rooms. And two baths. And supper—”

“One room,” Daenn cuts in. He shoots a side glance at me and speaks lower. “If Viggo has anyone watching the village, we’re better served staying together.”

I nod. It’s no hardship to share. I’d feel better staying close to Daenn, honestly.

The innkeeper snaps to attention, gesturing at his helper. “We’ll make sure you can rest and recuperate well tonight. There will be breakfast in the morning, too.”

“We’ll be leaving before it’s ready.”

The innkeeper blinks. “Of course. We’ll set aside two plates of dried foods for you to take with you. You’re no doubt in a hurry to get home, given—” He cuts off and glances at Daenn. “Given things,” he finishes lamely.

“We are. Thank you.”

He waves us off. “We may not be under Your Majesty’s rule, given that we’re not a gryphon clan, but we have only ever prospered thanks to your reign and proximity to our village. I’ll aid you however I can.”

I barely have a chance to thank him again before he hurries off. I glance at Daenn, but he’s lost in his own thoughts. His emotions are tangled again, but worry is a pall over the others. After a moment, he pulls himself back from his own mind. “ Come. He always gives our clan the same room when we stay here.”

I follow him up the stairs and to the door at the end of the hall. He holds the door open for me. The room is large, with a single four-poster bed that calls me immediately back to Chambledon and my years with Tolomon. A tarnished copper bath peeks out from behind a large dressing screen, and, across from where we stand, a door leads out onto the balcony. I frown at it—it seems like a security risk I’m surprised Daenn is comfortable with, but he responds to my unspoken worry.

“Our gryphons sleep on the balcony. Storm will find us after his hunt and act as guard.”

“Oh.” Of course. It’s an ideal situation, in that light. I can see why this is a stopping point for the clan. I wander a few steps, examining the room more closely. Daenn moves to the fireplace and begins stacking the fresh wood stored beside it onto the grate.

The bed draws my eye, and heat creeps through me. We’ve shared a bed before, at the clan. We’ve slept within touch of each other while on our journey.

But this…feels different. In the mountain, it was because of the watching clan and, I suspect, Daenn’s well-earned belief I might try to run. In the jungle, Daenn wanted me between him and Storm, the safest place in the camp.

But here…there are no watching eyes. There’s no danger. I could suggest I sleep on the floor, or demand he does, but…

I don’t want to.

I want to sleep with him within reach. I want him to pull me into his arms, curl his body around me as we sleep—that longing is hopeless, I know that. But surely it’s not unreasonable of me to want him near. And from a logical standpoint, we both are in sore need of rest. It would be silly for either of us to sleep anywhere but the bed.

A throat clears behind us from the doorway. The innkeeper stands there, a steaming pot of water hanging from each hand. “If I may—”

Daenn rises from the small but happy fire he’s just finished. “Of course.”

He takes one of the pots from the man, and together they pour both into the tub. The innkeeper heaves up the empty pots. “My son will be up with more in a moment.”

He bustles out again.

“You can bathe first.” My cheeks flush at the need to discuss this. “I can see about our supper while you do.”

Hesitation winds through the link. “You go first,” he finally says, glancing at the balcony, and I immediately know exactly what he’s concerned about.

“Do you think Viggo will send men after us tonight?”

Daenn glances at me, surprised, and a small smile, like I’ve caught him in the act of worrying, slips over his face. My heart’s reaction to the sight is ridiculously disproportionate to the expression. How can such a minute look affect me so deeply?

“Probably not,” he admits. “But I’d rather not leave you so unprotected.”

“You aren’t leaving. You’re taking care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself, as you say, after Storm returns.”

His stubbornness is settling and making itself at home, I see. I refrain from a growl. “Will you at least eat something?”

“Whenever the food is ready, yes.” Daenn begins unlacing his armor.

I hurry to him. “Here, let me help. ”

He relinquishes his arm to me, and I work at the ties for his bracer—his original bracer—in silence. He doesn’t need my help—he’s donned and removed his armor without my help for years. But I need something to do, and… maybe I want the excuse to be near him. His presence is soothing.

His gaze skims over me as I work, removing his bracer before moving on to his cuirass. I keep my head down, eyes focusing on my task, because we stand so close now I don’t know if I could bear the weight of his gaze at such a close distance.

I break the silence. “You’re still as stubborn as ever, I see. How did Eskil put up with you for so long?”

He huffs out a laugh. “He asks the same thing.”

“Of course he does.” Worry flickers through me for Eskil and the other comatose clansfolk. I’m not even sure if it’s mine or his, but I don’t want to dwell in it. “Do you remember the first time I helped you put on your new armor?”

“My fourteenth birthday gift from my father.” There’s a slip of bittersweet nostalgia to his emotions as he thinks of it. “But we found it early, didn’t realize it was for me. Eskil and I both wanted to try it on—only to try it, then we’d put it right back.”

“You nearly wrestled over who would go first, but finally Eskil let you. He’s always been nicer than you,” I add as a teasing aside that Daenn scoffs at. “But none of us knew how to put armor on, so we just made our best guesses.” I smile at the memory.

“The cuirass was backward.” His tone is light as he remembers, and I can’t help but chuckle too.

“You looked ridiculous. And then your father walked in—”

“He was horrified.”

“I think more so by the incorrect wear than us spoiling your surprise.”

“Of course.” He leans forward ever so slightly, and I have to shift to finish working at the buckle. Rueful chagrin laces through him. “He lectured me that night for nearly an hour about being a good leader and not dragging others into mischief. He even threatened to separate us.”

I roll my eyes. “As if you were the instigator of all our mischief as children. Eskil and I were certainly as complicit as you, and we were perfectly happy going along with it even when we weren’t the ones starting it. And besides, if he had tried to separate us, I would have just found a way to see you anyway; I wouldn’t have stood for being kept apart from you.”

Grief is sudden, but muted somehow, like it’s more of a remembered feeling, and I look up at Daenn involuntarily—why the sudden hurt? My breath catches at how he stares at me, the raw pain and longing I both see in his gaze and feel.

He rips his gaze away. “He managed it a few years later anyway with his treaty.”

“I suppose he did,” I murmur. The memory of that day rises, near the surface thanks to the dance with nostalgia we’ve already engaged in. I was crushed when the king asked the marriage of me. He did ask, not order, but it wasn’t like I could refuse my king, not when he explained how our clan needed the treaty.

I did so well at hiding my feelings until later, when I was alone. Only then did I let myself weep. Daenn found me like that, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain why I wept—for the loss of the future I hoped for with him .

But he still held me. Protected me in the only way he could at the time.

He’s always trying to protect me, then and now.

A low greeting from the door has me stepping back sharply from Daenn as if I’m doing something I shouldn’t. A young man who looks startingly like the innkeeper comes in with two more steaming pots of water and pours them into the tub. Behind him, the innkeeper has returned with his own load.

“It’s all unbuckled,” I tell Daenn, clearing my throat and turning away.

He thanks me softly and returns to removing his own armor, which is just as well. I am drowning in my emotions and memories—and Daenn’s emotions, which only confuse matters. There’s a longing and a heavy sense of grief from him that could be my own. Both lack that muted feeling they had before; they are fresh, sharper. They worry me. What is he thinking about? Is he thinking about us, like I am? It seems too much to hope for. Is he worried about what will happen tomorrow when we go home?

We have a night of respite, but soon enough we will return and go straight into another fight.

I will help him, I decide suddenly. He won’t face Viggo alone. Despite what I thought before, when I lived in the lowlands and heard only rumors, Daenn is still a good man. A good king, worthy of leading our people. I won’t let anyone steal his throne. He’s protected me so much in our lives. It’s time someone protects him in return.