Page 122 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
I smiled. “So do you.” I licked his bottom lip.
“Bamarian stew is better though,” he conceded.
I raised my eyebrows, and sat back. “Oh really? And is that better than Glemarian stew?” I teased, bringing back our months-long debate over whose country had better food.
“Oh, no. Not even close.” He circled his hips beneath me. “I still win there.”
I pushed back, gasping as he seemed to thicken beneath me. “That’s what you think,” I said breathlessly, dragging myself forward.
He growled. “That’s what I know.” He rose up, rocking into me. “And when we get to Glemaria, I’m going to feed you. Prove you so, so fucking wrong.”
He gripped my ass, his other hand reaching between us to undo my belt. He flung it against the wall before his fingers bunched up the bottom of my tunic and dragged it over my hips. He reached beneath it, his fingers searing my skin, moving up and up until he cupped my breast, squeezing and finding his way through the bindings I wore to training. The feeling of his bare hand against my skin was so intense—especially after a week of not seeing or touching him. He found my nipple and pinched until I cried out, bucking over him.
“Take this off,” he demanded.
Bells began to ring in the distance, an unusual pattern I wasn’t familiar with.
Neck flushed, Rhyan froze, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
“Elyrian clock tower?” I asked.
His eyes widened, as the bells rang again. “Akadim. Nearby.” Jaw tensing, he gripped my hips, attempting to lift me off of him, but I squeezed my thighs together, pressing down on his chest.
“You’re not getting up,” I said.
“They might need my help.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You’re in absolutely no condition to take on akadim. You can’t go out there. You’re not even at your post—you can’t just show up in Elyria, Rhyan, out of nowhere.” Even as I said the words, I could feel my own pull to go outside, my own yearning to throw myself into battle. What if it was the akadim that had Meera and Morgana? What if they were this close? What if we could save them?
But we had to stick to the plan. We had a way to get them back.
“I shouldn’t have drunk anything.” He rubbed his forehead and winced. The bruising around his eye was becoming more apparent.
I pulled his hand into mine. “Yes, you should have. You were in pain.”
“I was weak.” He looked toward the fireplace.
I turned his head back to me. “Rhyan, that’s not true. Not even a little.”
He laughed, but the sound was joyless. “Weak. And always going to be too late. Too late to do the right thing. Too late to save the ones I love. Even the way I got you out…I could barely walk, couldn’t even handle two mugs of mead.”
“Hey. Rhyan, stop that. That’s your father talking. And he’s a gryphon-shit liar who knows nothing about you, or strength, or love.”
“And you think I know about these things? I ran before because I was so scared I wasn’t going to be enough. That I was going to fail you. Does that sound like strength to you?”
“Your strength was being able to admit that. Your strength was coming back. Your strength was facing your fear. And everything you’ve done since has proven to me again and again that you love me. All I want to do is show you in return how much I love you.” I lay carefully against his chest. “Rhyan, you’ve been through a lot. So much more than most people. More than anyone should. And you keep fighting, you keep coming out of it stronger and stronger. Nothing that happened has made you weak. You’ve experienced horrific cruelty, and you still have such a great capacity to love. So much kindness. There’s nothing weak about that. I know how difficult it was for you to see him. To face him. To fight him. But you did it—you saved me tonight, and what you’re doing for me, I’ll be forever grateful. Don’t let him in your head. Don’t let him win. He’s taken enough from you. He’s unworthy of your presence, unworthy of the air you breathe. One day he’s going to pay for all he’s done. I’m going to make sure of it. And I’m going to delight in his fall.”
Tears filled his eyes. “Partner.” His lips were on mine again, but this kiss was slow, winding down. His drinks and exhaustion, mixed with the heavy scent of moonleaves, were catching up to him.
I kissed his forehead and both of his closed eyes. Then I threw another log in the fire, dug his sweatpants out from his pack, and carefully slipped them over his legs and hips to make sure he stayed warm.
I organized all of our things so we could leave here as quickly as possible. Once he felt no pain walking and he’d eaten again, we were moving straight toward Glemaria.
The whole room tidied and everything but our armor and essentials packed, I slipped one of Rhyan’s sweatshirts over my tunic, then I slid my dagger beneath my pillow, guarding Rhyan as his breathing evened.
The bells rang again, the same pattern as before, causing my heart to pound. Akadim were still out there, and every now and then there was a faint shout. A soturion barking orders.
Rhyan shifted in his sleep, his brow furrowed until I rubbed my thumb between his eyes, and his breathing softened. I pulled the blanket higher around him. I burrowed beneath the blanket against him. The combination of his body heat and the fire made our room toasty, but I couldn’t stop shivering. I couldn’t stop imagining Meera and Morgana and praying to every god and goddess I could think of that they were alright, that they weren’t being tortured or hurt.
