Verice hesitated, then leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight. He’d not disturb her. But after a day of death and horror, it felt good to see her so, sleeping safe within his walls.
At least he’d managed that much.
She was lovely, really. Those wide round eyes, and the softness of her face. She’d probably given up her bed in the Healers Hall for one of the healers or patients. Ancestors, he hoped it wasn’t Dominic. A flash of irritation at Ricard was quickly replaced with common sense. He doubted the man even knew she’d ended up here.
There were extra blankets folded and the end of the bed. He’d curl up by the hearth in the kitchens.
He walked over, careful to be quiet, with every intention of taking a blanket and leaving. But he paused for just a moment, listening to her breathing, his eyes on her sweet face as she slept. Something ached in his chest suddenly; a want, a need for her to open her eyes so they could talk. Verice frowned at that, uncertain as to what exactly he was feeling.
Warna sighed, rolled over and opened her eyes, still half-asleep.
Verice suddenly knew exactly what he wanted.
Chapter Thirty
Sleep-filled, Warna’s brown eyes focused on him and her lips curved in a warm, drowsy, welcoming smile. She murmured his name, clearly just on the edge of consciousness as she shifted under the blankets.
Verice sucked in a breath, his pulse quickening as pure desire swept through him. The shock of recognizing that fact would have -should have - made him stop, but he was already moving, bracing a knee on the edge of the bed, leaning over Warna. She blinked at him, her confusion clear.
He kissed her, pressing his lips to her softer ones, no more than that. He waited then, conscious of her every breath.
She pulled in a startled gasp against his mouth. His heart stopped for one long, agonizing breath, then leapt as her lips moved under his, clumsily returning the kiss, as if unsure as to what to do.
He groaned, buried one hand in her silken hair and took control.
Warna gave a contented murmur and opened her mouth to him.
Verice took what she offered, crushing her in his arms. She molded against him, warm against his bare chest. She tasted of peace, of home, but she was also Warna and he hungered for her and her alone.
She brought her arms up around his waist, clutching at his waist, returning the kiss.
Something within him broke open even as it sang.
Warna awoke fully, gasping her surprise against Verice’s mouth. His lips were warm and dry and he seemed to hesitate just on the brink, waiting for something...waiting for her.
She wasn’t sure what to do next, but she pressed up, her lips moving against his.
He pulled her into a tangle of blankets and arms, wrapping his arms around her to lift her up. His tongue teased hers and she opened her mouth to him. For long slow moments, there was nothing but him, his touch, his mouth. She felt so alive, her body on fire. Warna brought her own hands up, threading them into his silver hair.
Verice broke the kiss, and held her close, his face pressed into her neck. The warmth of his breath beneath her ear made her shiver. His arms trembled.
She wrapped her own arms around him, running her hands over his back, breathing in the scent of soap and leather.
He’d kissed her. Her lips still tingled with the lingering heat of his, his taste in her mouth. But he’d broken it off, buried his face in her hair, and now held her like he’d never release her.
“Verice?” she whispered, trying to understand. His kiss had set her on fire, but the desire was fading, leaving her confused. Until she felt his harsh breaths and caught the faint whiff of smoke in his hair.
“Verice,” Now there was no question in her voice. She’d seen the wounded coming through the portal, had heard of the destruction of the village. She could only imagine what he’d been through.
Still he held tight, his hair a curtain around them. She tightened her hold, offering what comfort she could.
“Sorry,” his voice was harsh and broken in her ear. He released her, his arms dropping away, but the tension was still there in his back. Warna tightened her hug even as he tried to slip from her grasp.
“I’ve no right,” he whispered, trying to pull away.
“Hush,” she murmured, and held on until he wrapped his arms around her again.
“You’ve every right, considering.”
His breathing started to slow.
“I didn’t expect you to return,” she whispered. “They needed every bed in the Healing Hall, so I thought—”
Verice lifted his head, and she could see the exhaustion in his eyes. “I’ll go—”
Warna shook her head, still keeping him close. “No,” she said. “Don’t go.” She tugged him down to the bed.
Verice swayed as she pulled, resisting her. “Your reputation,” he stuttered out the words.
Warna laughed, shaking her head. “That horse has fled the barn, Verice.” She shifted, making room, trying to keep a grip on his shoulders. “Sleep on top of the blankets then. I trust your honor.”
“You shouldn’t,” came his reply, cold and hard. There was a flash of something in his eyes that sent a bolt of heat through her. Warna caught her breath, quickly breaking eye contact.
“Sorry,” Verice said. “I’m…” he ran his hand over his face. “I’ve offended you. I didn’t mean to—”
“You are exhausted,” Warna said firmly. She tugged again, and Verice obeyed this time, stretching out on the bed beside her. She reached down and covered him with the extra blanket. “Sleep,” she whispered, settling back down.
He nodded, closed his eyes - but they opened again and he stared at her, his eyes blurring and unfocused.
She reached out from under her blanket, and took his hand, curling her fingers around his. “Sleep,” she commanded.
He tightened his grasp for an instant then sighed, nodded, and closed his eyes. She watched over him as the tension drained and his breathing slowed. Watched as he slipped into sleep.
Finally, when she was sure he would stay asleep, she closed her own eyes.
But she left her hand in his.
Verice awoke alone.
Warna wasn’t in the outer room, either, although fresh clothes and hot water were waiting for him. He stood staring for a moment, trying to decide if Warna had arranged that. And what it meant if she had.
He ran his hands through his hair, knowing full well that he’d broken faith by kissing her, and trying to remember why he’d thought that would be a good idea. Although he didn’t remember thinking so much as feeling...his body tightened as the image of Warna in his bed flashed before him. He remembered that all too well.
He needed to face her.
The thought made him sick. He didn’t want to see the betrayal in her eyes, or worse, the scorn. For violating her trust, breaking his promise of—
A knock at the door, and one of the serving lads peeked in, balancing a tray. “M’lord?”
Verice gestured him in, arching an eyebrow at the hot kav and breakfast. “You must have been sitting outside the door.”
The lad nodded, intent on his task of delivering the tray to the table. “M’lady’s orders. ‘Let him sleep, feed him, then tell him Captain Narthing is asking for him.’” The lad set the tray down with a satisfied sigh.
So...he wasn’t the only one who wished to avoid the issue. Or at least, avoid him.
Verice sent the lad off. He poured some kav, hot and strong, and tore at some of the bread, leaving the rest of the food untouched.
He washed, changed, stomped into his boots, and belted on his weapons. Best to find her and apologize.
Before he lost his nerve.
Chapter Thirty-One
Verice blinked as he stepped into the courtyard, the sunlight hitting his eyes. He’d slept later than he’d thought.
Brindle appeared beside him, followed by the rest of the pack. He whined, shoving his nose into Verice’s hand, l
ooking for attention. Verice knelt, and scratched his ears, glad for an excuse to pause for a moment.
The courtyard was quite the contrast from the night before. The dead bodies were gone. The whole place hummed with activity. Wagons rumbled through the main gates, filled with supplies. A few were stopped in front of the Healing Hall, unloading supplies. Other wagons clustered in front of the buttery and ovens. Men were unloading barrels and crates, heaving sides of beef on to their shoulders, calling to one another over the noise. Smoke was rising from chimneys long cold. It felt oddly...normal.
“Hup, hup,” Verice said, getting the dogs’ attention. He took a moment to concentrate on each of the dogs, checking them over, talking to each one in low tones, even as he glanced around the courtyard. They all gathered around him, vying for his attention. Sand and Gray weren’t there, but he knew where they’d be.
He feared to look at the keep itself, but steeled himself enough to take a quick glance. The doors were all closed, the windows dark. He breathed then, feeling the fool. He’d have known if any had entered, after all. But it stood, silent and dark.
Warna had kept her word.
Warna…
He rose then, looking around, and found the constable at his side, waiting.
“All’s well?” Verice asked.
“Well enough.” Ricard said. “The men have secured Birch Cove, or what’s left of it. They report that the remaining bandits have retreated over the border, and they did not pursue.” His expression of disapproval told Verice what he thought of that order. “We’ve managed to get the villagers all fed and seen to. Captain Narthing is awake, and waiting to speak to you. He and Priest Dominic are going at it something fierce.” Ricard grinned. “Last I left, Dominic was threatening to tie him to the bed.”
“Warna?” Verice asked.
“She’s got the women from Birch Cove helping her scrub down the Third barracks.” Ricard rumbled, he raised an eyebrow and gestured in that direction. “Walk as we talk, m’lord?”
Verice nodded, and the dogs paced with them.
“M’lady said we need the sleeping space,” Ricard said as they made their way past the keep. “She’s ordered the buttery, ovens and laundry opened, because the barracks kitchens won’t be able to handle much more work than what they’ve already got.” Ricard pointed to the wagons. “We’ve got food and supplies coming in, but m’lord,” and here the man hesitated.
Verice raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.
“M’lord, you’ll be needing to name a seneschal and fairly quick,” Ricard said apologetically. “I can handle it for a while, but you need a man on it to keep it running smooth.”
Verice nodded.
“The Birch Cove elders wish to talk with you,” Ricard continued. “And the Lord Mayor of Octara and the heads of the Merchants Guild are asking questions about trade. A few others be wanting your attention as well.”
“Warna first, then Narthing,” Verice said. “We can set up a meeting for the others this afternoon.”
Ricard nodded his agreement. “I’ll try to hold them off.” He indicated a doorway where a cluster of men had gathered. “But they’ll not be satisfied just talking to me for long, m’lord.”
“They’ll have to be,” Verice snapped.
Ricard started, but covered it quickly. “Yes, m’lord.” He gave a quick bow of his head, and turned toward the group of men headed their way.
Verice grimaced, regretting his sharp words. His irritation lay with himself, not his people. But delaying this conversation with Warna would only make it worse. He quickened his pace, determined to face the consequences of his actions.
There were women gathered before the Third Barracks, with buckets, mops and cleaning cloths, all talking at once. They were wringing out rags, pouring fresh water, surrounded by soap bubbles, wet cobblestones and endless chatter.
Another group was a bit farther along, away from the damp, beating rugs and stuffing mattresses with fresh straw. Children ran in and out of their midst with handfuls of straw, throwing it at each other in a game.
Warna stood at the heart of the activity, her blonde hair caught up in a twist. She was wringing rags with the best of them.
He hesitated, not sure if he should—
She lifted her head, and turned toward him, as if she knew…
Her eyes found his unerringly, like an arrow to the heart.
For one long instant, Verice feared the worst. He caught the red heat on her cheeks, the confusion in her eyes as she dropped her gaze.
Pain sliced through his chest. He was in mid-stride, or else he’d stop where he was, not really wanting to face her.
He caught his breath when she looked up again, her eyes back on his. Was the barest trace of an embarrassed smile on her lips, a light of welcome in her eyes?
He kept walking toward her, half-afraid to hope.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The crowd of human women silenced as he approached and then all curtseyed, their faces solemn. There wasn’t a sense of happiness about them, not exactly. More a sense of contentment. Or satisfaction.
“Ladies.” His voice sounded rough even to his ears. “Warna, I’d speak with you, if you’ve a moment.”
Her blush was pink now, but the smallest of smiles was definitely in her gaze. “Of course, m’lord.” She stepped out of the shelter of the gathering and walked toward him. The women returned to their work, although Verice could feel their eyes upon him.
Warna approached him, the heat still on her cheeks. He turned slightly away, standing close, hoping to shield her from prying looks. He lowered his voice, “Warna, I—”
She reached out a hand, and touched his arm. He felt the heat of her fingers through the cloth. “For all my training,” she said softly, “I’ve no idea of the deportment required for this situation.”
Verice huffed out a breath, feeling his tension ease. “I confess that Elven Court etiquette offers no suggestions either.”
Warna chuckled and nodded, her head down. “So, I resolved to apologize for my inappropriate intrusion into your chambers. Except that…”
Her brown eyes darted to his, then she lowered her gaze to stare at the cleaning rags in her hands. Her lashes were dark against her skin.
Verice stepped closer. “Except that?
Her voice was the faintest whisper. “I don’t regret the—”
“Excuse me, Lord Verice, but—” One of the merchants was approaching.
Verice lifted his head, throwing the man a long look.
The man blinked and retreated. “Your pardon, m’lord,” was all he managed to stutter out.
“M’lord,” Warna chided softly. She was standing so close, he could smell her hair.
Verice cleared his throat. “I will confess to you that I was going to ask forgiveness for my unconscionable actions, and beg your pardon,” he murmured. “But I will return your honesty with my own. I’ve no real regrets. Except that…”
“M’lady, do you wish us to start on the next—” One of the women approached from behind. Warna shot her a glare that practically scorched the woman where she stood.
“M’lady,” Verice chuffed at Warna as the woman fled.
“Except that?” Warna prompted him, her own eyebrow raised.
“Except that we stopped,” he whispered.
She flushed again, but her lips curved upwards, lifting his heart with them.
“M’lord,” Ricard said from a distance off.
Verice turned on him, at the same time Warna lifted her head. But the man was impervious to their glares. “There’s a need,” he said simply.
“We need to discuss this,” Verice lowered his head to Warna’s ear. “But I fear…”
She leaned in toward him, humming her agreement. “We’ve duties, m’lord,”
“True enough, m’lady,” Verice stood for a moment more, sighed and stepped back. “Dinner, then?”
Warna’s eyes were bright, filled with anticipation. “Dinner woul
d be—”
Horns sounded from the walls, calling an alert, warning of assault from above.
Verice snapped his head up, scanning the sky. Two mounted creatures spiraled above. “Warna, get the humans into the—” He paused, frowning, and lifted a hand to shade his eyes as he studied the two figures. “Ancestors, there must be a new man on horn duty. That’s—”
The horns sounded again, with an ‘All’s well’.
“What are they?” Warna asked.
“More like a who,” Verice said, frowning. “It’s Wolfe and Kalynn.”
Warna caught her breath as the creatures from that lovely tapestry spiraled down, beautiful wings spread wide to slow their descent into the courtyard. They gracefully settled to the ground, folding their wings to allow their riders to unbuckle and dismount.
A streak of mottled colors jumped down from the pack on one animal’s back and ran for the stables. Warna was fairly sure it was the cat.
Verice started in their direction, but Warna hesitated. Every eye in the courtyard was fixed on the two new arrivals, but there was little welcome there. All work had stopped as Wolfe and Kalynn dismounted and greeted Verice. The bustle of activity had been replaced with an odd stillness, wariness, and fear.
The women behind her had gathered at the door of the barracks, and the children were being hustled inside. The fear in their faces was obvious. As much as Warna would like to see the airons up close, she felt a need to respond to that fear. She walked back, trying to catch their eyes and offer reassurance. “There’s nothing to fear. Just friends of the High Baron’s come for a visit.”
That got her stares of mingling disbelief and exasperation. “Lady,” one of the eldest said. “That is the ChaosReaver.”
“It’s said he tears out the living hearts of his enemies,” another whispered.
“No,” Warna shook her head, thinking of the cluttered stairs of the Tower and Wolfe’s smile. “He’s—”
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