Page 58 of Between Fear and Favor

Something which felt a little like fear and a lot like embarrassment bubbled in my throat, and I didn’t know what to do with it. It was the same feeling when he’d kissed me at the temple. WhenI’dkissedhim. I fought a smile, remembering how we had pretended to be something we weren’t. Skies, how had I been so bold?

When he put an arm around my waist and pulled me close, his fingertips were gentle as they pushed into my skin. I wondered if the queen had told him how far my scars reached, or if he suspected. Or perhaps, he just had a soft touch. I liked that possibility best of all, and it brought an inconvenient heat up my neck and over my jaw. Dewalt pretending to be my husband didn’t have much effect on me, considering we’d pretended in a similar manner before, but the rest did. I liked the idea that he touched me that way, not because he thought me fragile, not because he assumed I was weak or incapable, but because he wanted to be delicate. Because he touched those he cared about with exquisite precision. When he pressed his perfect, unrepentant lips to the top of my head, I was pulled from my licentious thoughts. Maintaining my expression to keep up the ruse was far harder than it should have been.

I’d thought Dewalt couldn’t stand me. Though he’d offered me a fragility I’d never seen from him the night before, he’d been so stubborn and demanding and downright bossy afterward that I’d dismissed it immediately. I thought I had seen a crack in his armor. The sullen mask he wore, birthed from the scar over his heart, had lifted for a brief moment, splintering beneath my touch. Until it repaired itself with haste. But I couldn’t keep from wondering if perhaps it was a start. And when Dickey had told me whatever I was doing for Dewalt was bringing him back, determination implanted in my heart like a weed. Hope had bloomed, climbing sweet and sticky up my throat like stubborn honeysuckle.

As Dewalt led me to the stairs, one hand on my lower back like it belonged there, I pretended for just a moment that it did. I nearly convinced myself that things between us had progressed, and his possessive touch came from a place of desire rather than protection. I snorted at the notion. The only reason he’d seemed like himself the night before was because I’d goaded him into it. Maybe, just maybe, if I annoyed him into oblivion, he’d return to his old self. I would watch him jest and tease, and his smile would light up the room once more. I hadn’t realized how desperately I’d craved that version of him until I thought I could be the one to bring it back. Until I’d needed it to help bear the weight of my own sorrow.

When he fitted the key in the door, pushing it open and stomping in before me, I nearly skidded to a halt. I hadn’t thought what it would mean for him to play as my husband. The room was small, and it only took him a moment to check the places a would-be attacker could lie in wait. When he stopped in the middle of the room, frowning at me, I tilted my chin up and stepped inside. As I stared at the bed, far too narrow for the two of us, I cleared my throat before speaking.

“I hope you like the floor.”

Squeezing my eyes tight,I burrowed deeper beneath the scratchy blankets. It wasn’t as soft as my bedroll, but the mattress was more comfortable than the stone I never quite grew used to. My toes were freezing, the heat of the fireplace only warming my back. But that same bright glow was enough to keep the copper tub warm for Dewalt to bathe in it. Facing the other side of the room, I was painfully aware of the very large, very naked man taking a bath behind me. Each splash, each sound of a washcloth dragging across his skin, seared my senses. I hadn’t thought he would fit into the tub, let alone sit in it comfortably for longer than a few minutes.

“Are you almost done?” I demanded. When I opened my eyes, they were drawn to a knot on the wooden plank wall. A shadow drifted over it, the image of Dewalt’s arm lifting as he washed. My nostrils flared.

“Almost, songbird,” he said. My skin grew heated. He’d only called me that once before, and the way he’d said it, low and lazy, felt almost like a caress.

“I still don’t understand why?—”

“I’m not doing this again, Nor. You cannot go down there by yourself, and you can’t stand outside the door like I did for you. Everyone else is resting, and I’m not going to make them watch over you so I can bathe. Besides, you’re my wife, remember? How would that look?”

He was right, though it pained me. I’d already harmed the other soldiers enough with my carelessness. “Not your real wife,” I muttered, knowing it wouldn’t matter.

“I don’t know why you’re so bothered. You turned away, and anything you might find interesting is hidden beneath the water.”

My ears grew hot. It was perhaps the only time I was thankful for their missing points when I knew he wouldn’t see their vivid red. Still though, I pulled the blanket up higher. “I don’t find anything about you particularly interesting.”

“It’s nothing more than you’d see at a beach or a swimming hole,” he continued, disregarding everything I said completely.

“I’ve never been to either of those places.”

“What?” Incredulous, his voice rose. I was fairly certain he dropped his washcloth based on the splash. “Wait. You’ve never been swimming? You don’t know how to swim?”

Frustrated, I sat up, pulling the blanket nearly to my chin as I leaned back against the headboard. Folding my hands in my lap, I focused on them instead of looking at the painfully nude man beside the bed. I nearly closed my eyes when, in my periphery, I could still see swaths of his smooth, copper skin. His arms were spread wide, resting on the basin, and his head was tilted back, exposing the column of his throat.

“I rarely left the temple. When I did, it certainly wasn’t to go swimming,” I explained. “So, no. I don’t know how to swim.”

He made a thoughtful noise, and I wondered what he was thinking. I fought my instinct to fool around with my hair. Even though it was braided, the urge to do something with my fingers was there. My mother encouraged me to wear it up in a bun for as long as I could remember, and I’d only stopped once the veil became part of my wardrobe. I had always wanted to do something with my hands, and it had been a subject of great irritation for her. Twisting her ring around my finger, I wondered if it would have vexed her. Between the fidgeting and how often I spoke out of turn, I often wondered if my mother wished for a different daughter. There were other novices not so easily distracted.

“I learned to swim late too. Never had the time. When I was younger, I spent most of my time working the farm or hunting.”

Dewalt had never mentioned his life before befriending the king. I wasn’t sure what was making him open up to me, but I was curious. “Which crops did you grow?” I asked.

“Corn and beans, mostly. Sometimes squash. I didn’t learn to swim until the summer I met Rainier. He was doing his first tour of Vesta, meeting the people he’d one day lead—all that royal bullshit. It was hot outside, and he wanted to swim. My father was too busy bartering a better deal for corn with a councilman, so he tasked me with entertaining him.” Water sloshed as he adjusted, and I looked away as he sat up. “Rainier is a couple years younger than me, and I was afraid he might have thrown a tantrum if I didn’t take him somewhere.” He chuckled, and I gave up averting my eyes just to see his smile. His expression drew winsome, past memories fresh in his mind. I was entranced. He’d never been so open with me. “But when I nearly fucking drowned, he used his divinity to push the water toward the opposite lake shore. Just enough so I could touch the bottom. He’s been my best friend ever since.”

Though I knew they’d been friends for a long time, it was a lovely insight into their relationship. And into Dewalt. I’d learned more about him in these past few moments than all my snooping and prying combined.

“Do you want me to teach you to swim?” he asked.

I gaped at him, surprised he’d offer. “I-I don’t know. It sounds a bit frightening.”

“Nor, aren’t you afraid of horses?” He sat up straighter, revealing more muscled chest and a puckered scar far too close to his heart. I couldn’t look at it. When I didn’t answer, he continued. “You remember when you wanted to confront Emmeline? You leapt onto the first beast you could find and rode like there was fire on your heels. I barely beat you there. And you rode with me when—seven fucking hells. Was that why you didn’t want to ride with me in the fucking snow that night?” At my sheepish nod, he shook his head. “Well, you’ve done fine the past week, even if you could use practice mounting and dismounting. But that’s neither here nor there. I wouldn’t let you drown.”

Quietly, I pondered it for a moment. “I don’t know why you’d want to, but fine. You can teach me.” And then I laughed, surprise pushing out the noise. “Last summer I was arriving in Folterra as a novice-turned-prisoner, never even having seen a man’s chest,” I laughed, gesturing to him, “and now this summer you’re going to...” I trailed off when Dewalt’s eyes met mine. They had narrowed, the dark brown smoldering in the firelight.

“Who?”

“Who what?”

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