Page 16 of Ties of Starlight (Tethered Hearts #2)

I donea woke up warm, with that strange feeling all around her. She didn't know how or why, but she felt... safe. Wanted.

She blinked her eyes open and looked down at the lines on her arm and focused on the feeling. It was all coming from the other side of the bond.

That was when she realized the warmth was because of the chest she was sleeping on and the arms wrapped around her, one around her waist and the other across her back, his hand in her hair.

When she looked up at his face, for a moment everything was so hazy she thought it was Bror before her mind caught up to her and realized it was Nyrunn. Her heart steadied. How strange. To feel safe with him.

But was he safe with her?

That one question had the guilt rushing back in.

He wasn't the monster his uncle was. He certainly was better than the monster she was. He deserved better than to be stuck with her.

A murderer not even her soulmate could bear to be near. Her mind was a mess of memories of lives she'd lived all layering on top of each other.

She started to pull away, but his grip only tightened and she was not allowed to go. She looked up to see his eyes fluttering, not fully awake, but not completely asleep. He whispered, “A little longer.”

Why? Why would he want to keep her close? She could not fathom it. He’d held her all night and still wasn’t ready to push her away? If her own soulmate thought she could not even be suffered long enough to have a single child, why would the king want her close?

But unless she wanted to make a fuss, she didn't really have much of a choice. And considering he'd been spending the last two weeks sleeping on the ground and in chairs without so much as a single grumbling look her way, she owed him this at least. This was probably his first actually decent night of sleep since their marriage.

That had to be it. He must believe if she pulled away, he’d be forced to give up the bed for the floor.

So she settled back into place and Nyrunn's breathing evened out again.

It wasn't... awful either.

The next time she woke up, she wasn't quite as warm, and the arms that had been wrapped around her were gone.

Even more startling was the fact that she wished they were still there.

She blinked drowsily to see Nyrunn was pulling a clean shirt on over his head, and the sun was filtering in through the canvas.

Then he started for the mess on the floor, and she watched him for a moment before her sluggish mind jolted awake. She immediately scrambled out of the bed as Nyrunn picked up her journal, already open to a damning page.

The word of protest died on her lips as his eyes darted over the page, and the motion to close it paused.

He looked over at the open book on the ground. Her account conflicting with Bror's.

“Nyrunn...” Idonea whispered, stumbling as she got out of the bed.

The bond that had been flooding her with warmth and safety had gone cold. She should have put another wall up.

He lowered her journal and turned to face her, the expression on his face indecipherable. “What is this?”

“It's my mess.” Her voice cracked. “All of this is my mess.”

He turned through the pages, skimming over them and shaking his head. She didn’t bother trying to stop him. It was too late. “This doesn't make sense. This—Idonea, you write about the past Cometa Couples like you lived it. And then—” His laugh was slightly desperate. “That's not possible.”

He’d stopped keeping secrets from her. With hers in his hands, she wasn’t going to lie to his face.

“You laugh like your uncle. Has anyone ever told you that? Bror didn't laugh often, not that I remember, or at least it was usually a cruel one,” Idonea whispered. She brushed her fingers over her deathmark. “This is where he stabbed me after I killed Olaug—Olvir in that lifetime.”

Nyrunn shook his head. “My uncle died before you ever came to work in the castle.”

She nodded.

“Idonea, this is insane.” But he continued flipping through the pages, eyes darting over the condemning words.

She was aware how crazy it sounded. That didn’t make it any less real.

She wrapped her arms around herself, the wine stain having dried overnight. She shivered; she might as well have been completely exposed before him. “You knew I was hiding something.”

“If— If I believe this, what you've written in a journal you never wanted anyone to read, then that means...” He looked up from the journal, fingers resting on the pages. The truth washed over him. “You were Inga, and the girl before her, and the one before her, and—”

“This is my seventh life.”

His mouth fell open, but another voice interrupted instead.

“Your Majesty, if we're going to keep on schedule we must leave now!”

Frode.

Idonea wasn't sure if she should be grateful for the interruption or not.

Nyrunn snapped his mouth shut and looked her over, while she tried to make herself as small as possible and covered the deathmark. He just grabbed her bag and shoved everything inside it, saying, “Get dressed. We will discuss this insanity on the road.”

And then he was sweeping out of the tent.

Idonea brushed her fingers over her deathmark again. The scratches stung when she agitated them.

No one had ever discovered it before. No one had ever gotten close enough to her journal before.

Olaug had either remembered on his own or she’d hidden it from him.

Anyone would think she was insane.

If Nyrunn didn’t believe her…

What would he do with her?