“Cil, I’d like you to meet my Bravest. We’d like a room for the night, if you’ll have us.”
His last statement hangs in the air like a smothering smoke, and I blink my eyes several times, as if the motion alone will make this appalling situation seem clearer. Cil bites her lip, and for a moment, I’m worried she might cry, and then we’ll both have to beat Aras over the head for his transgressions. I have no idea what he means to her, but it’s apparent Aras’ charm with the ladies far surpasses anything he’s ever shown me in these woods.
Instantly, I yank my hand from Aras’ grip, my mind clearing at its release. “Cil, is it?” I ask, hesitantly coming to stand before her as if I don’t smell of sweat, tears, and every other abomination that she surely loathes. “My name is Brave, and I’m happy to meet you, though I’m sure we’ve given you quite the start. Aras is helping me make my way back to Orien, and as you can see, I’m clearly in need of some rest.”
Her brown eyes finally turn their narrow gaze to my own. For the first time in my life, I think I might be punched in the face by a woman. Aras stirs uncomfortably from behind, as if he plans to break the tension with more unsightly words of his own. I certainly have no intentions of letting him fulfill that quest.
“And when Aras discussed our boarding for the night, he neglected to mention we’ll be needing two rooms,” I continue, downright ignoring Aras’ questioning stare.
A sly smile stretches across her cheeks, making her look wickedly beautiful and way above my current level of intrigue. “Oh, I think we can find something for you both,” she says, darting a hard look at Aras once more. “I’m quite sure about that.”
Not daring a glance back, I follow her haughty strut and ribbons of lilac into the dark and boisterous house, hoping my stance looks at least half as poised as hers.
Thirty-Two
“Bravest,” he pleads once more through the latched door, his voice now bordering on that of a wounded animal. “Come on. Open up. I just—I just need to see you. Make sure you’re alright.”
His last words end with a slight wobble, and I pinch my eyes closed with a tight squeeze, hoping the act alone will help to prolong my defiance. It’s been at least an hour since Aras’ relentless begging outside my newly private quarters arose, and the longer this battle of wills goes on, the weaker I feel mine becoming.
“Would you at least just say something? Anything to let me know you’re alive and well in there?” He pauses, and I hear the faint pressure through the door as he slides his back down to the floor. “At least just tell me why you’re upset.” And then, ever so quiet, as if he were some sneaky rat, he mumbles, “Two rooms.”
That’s it.
Turning the latch, I yank the door open, only to find a startled Aras sheepishly staring up at me from my feet. His usually wild hair is now washed and perfectly sculpted around his clean-shaven face, not even a single errant curl rising into the humid air. He’s changed into a tunic and pants that I recognize from our first meeting in Ashen, when he stood with Bates in Papa’s receiving room. A red O stitched on the left side of his chest jumps out, signaling me like a blazing beacon for a future I cannot escape. With his hair fallen back out of his eyes and the softness of his gaze, he looks both undeniably handsome and dangerous. It’s unfortunate that I can’t tell which bothers me more.
Carefully averting my eyes, I clear my throat. “Well, don’t you clean up nice?”
He smiles widely before practically bouncing back to his feet. I jump at the movement. Suddenly, I find myself moving backward, sideways, any direction that will lead me away from this confusing boy who invades my space. His playful eyes roam over me, and for some horrid reason, I know the words he is about to say before they even leave his lips. Clearly, we’ve been around each other for much too long.
“I’d like to say the same about you, but—” He smirks, raising his brows in a silent challenge to prove him wrong.
“Oh, hush it!” I say, playfully swiping at his arm and darting a hopeful look back toward the open door. “I’ve been waiting on warm water for ages now, but something tells me the wallowing boy outside my door may have chased that dream away.”
Aras shrugs his shoulders and walks back to the door, peeking out each way. “I never saw anyone coming, nor do I now, and believe me, I would let them through if I did. I’m the one who has had to suffer over the past several days.” He looks back, a teasing gleam in his eye. “You won’t catch me withholding your bath.”
It takes every ounce of willpower I have left not to bound across the room and push him right back out the door. I’m the one who should be tossing around barbed comments, not the other way around. It’s my life that he has endangered, tucking me away in some shady house with twenty of his latest conquests. Well, maybe not twenty exactly, but at least one that I know of for sure, and she’s destined to put an end to me before morning light.
And now that I think of it, I wonder if she’ll try to poison my bathwater?
“Out, Aras,” I say, propping my hands on my hips and choosing to focus on the current dilemma rather than the millions of others that are sure to happen. “It’s clear you have nothing useful to say, though honestly, I’m not sure I would believe anything that came out of your mouth at this point if you did.”
“Bravest,” he says, throwing a wounded hand to his chest for good measure. “Why must you always hurt me so?”
And before I can think better of it, the words fly from my mouth. “I bet Cil could ask you the same question.”
Suddenly, a hint of clarity and understanding unfolds like a spark across his face, my words seeking purchase and finding hold. Please tell me he didn’t consider before now that my behavior might be in part due to the fact that he has a secret girlfriend who he’s never felt the need to mention. Though, to be fair, I technically never asked, but I should have at least been warned about the scorned lover I was about to face. Now I’m just left huddled in my room, waiting for her to bust in and yank the snarled hair from my scalp.
“Is that what this is about?” he asks, holding up a finger and circling it about as if all of our problems could be confined to this one cramped room.
When I choose to do nothing but give him a knowing glare in return, he drops his hand and turns toward the door. Relief floods my chest, and I release a shaky breath. But instead of walking out the door as I assumed he would, he closes it with a resounding smack, confining us both to the tightening space.
I nearly choke from lack of air. “Aras,” I barely whisper, suddenly unsure of what to do with myself now that we’re surrounded by four walls and not the never-ending forest.
His broad shoulders stiffen at my voice, his hand still clenched tightly around the latch. It’s the first time I’ve seen his back since he’s freshened up, and I can’t help but notice the way his perfectly tailored tunic falls across him in the most flattering of ways. It makes him look strong, fierce, and annoyingly independent. Even those hopelessly adorable strands of hair curl up at his collar like the first day we met. It’s a cacophony of sights rushing through my senses, and I’m not sure if I like the feelings they bring. I squeeze my eyes shut, begging the jumbled thoughts to leave because if I stand here staring any longer, I’m afraid I might be forced to like this boy forever.
“Bravest, please tell me you weren’t upset by Cil.”
My eyes snap open, and I instantly regret the move. Looking at his face is no better than longing at his back. I expect to see pity painted across his features, but instead, I’m surprised to see genuine questions flash in his eyes. He really doesn’t know.
“In what way do you mean exactly? Upset that the poor girl has obviously had her heart broken or upset that she plans to kill me for it?”
Aras’ head pops back, confusion lining the twist of his lips. “Neither,” he says, crossing the stretching space between us until our faces are but a breath away. His eyes stare directly into my own, a silent dare written in his gaze. He thinks this closeness
bothers me. Actually, he knows it does. He just doesn’t understand why.
Squaring my shoulders, I tilt closer until our noses barely brush. “You can’t deny that you were involved with her in some way, though that’s not what I really care about,” I lie. “What I care about is how she perceives me, and right now, it’s as a threat.”
Aras lets out a low whistle, a puff of air sliding across my face. “You got all that from a thirty-second meeting on a porch? That’s some pretty stealthy investigative work, Bravest.”
I rise onto my tiptoes, not stopping until we’re cheek to cheek. “You were almost mauled to death, Aras. It doesn’t take much of a genius to solve this mystery.”
He stiffens, and I grab onto his shoulders, pushing us a safe distance apart. “So, if you’d like to enlighten me, I’m all ears.”
Aras rolls his neck to the side, as if I’ve just tasked him with the biggest ordeal of his life. When his eyes finally meet mine again, I don’t back down, choosing to raise my brows. Aras, in turn, looks as if he needs a hole to crawl into.
“I realize how things might have looked, but you have to trust me when I say that Cil is just a good friend.” He holds his hand over his heart in some sort of chivalrous honor code, begging me to listen when my head threatens to tilt away. “We’ve known each other from the first day I entered these woods, and Ingrid set the house up as a stopping point for my travels. I haven’t stayed here in over a year, so you can imagine the surprise when she saw me standing there.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Not to mention the surprise when she saw me standing there.”
Aras has the decency to grimace, although I am nowhere near ready to let him off the hook. The girl has obvious feelings for him, and if he couldn’t recognize that over who knows how many years, then he is even more foolish than I ever pegged him to be. And a fool, he is not.
“You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t know, Aras. The girl’s eyes practically turned into shining stars when she saw you.” And it’s true. There is no way he didn’t know, unless…
“Please tell me you didn’t lead her on over the years to get in the house’s good graces!”
Aras’ face turns a deep shade of red, and his mouth twists down as words of denial flood the space between us. “What? No! Of course not! You of all people know that I don’t need a woman to get into anyone’s good graces.”
“Humph. I beg to differ,” I say, rolling my eyes and plopping down on the hard bed.
Aras quiets, a tapping finger against his pursed lips, while his other arm wraps across his chest in some sort of shield against my wrath. I stare up at him, refusing to give in, because deep down, I know I’m right. For once, I hate that I am.
“You’re right,” he finally says, sighing. He gives up his stance and joins me on the edge of the bed. “I knew she had feelings for me, and though I never acted on them, I didn’t discourage her either. I’ve never been known to travel with anyone, and I thought that maybe by bringing you here and pretending we were together, it would help her to cut the ties once and for all. I won’t be back through here again, you know, and I didn’t want Cil to waste her time waiting.”
His words, while a bit naïve for this whole fiasco, do seem sincere. He knows he messed up, and he also knows he has to fix it. It’s his way of doing so that’s caused a major rift in my so-called good night’s sleep.
“Oh, Aras…” I sigh, giving in and laying my head on his slumping shoulder. “You really know nothing about women, do you? At least now we’ll know who to blame when I wake up with a knife to my throat.”
He doesn’t say a word, but I feel the ripple of his silent laughter as it moves through his chest. Despite myself, the ripple finds its way to me, and I fight a smile before slowly raising my head. He surprises me then, gently wrapping his arm around me and touching my cheek, pulling my head back down to his shoulder. His chin moves to rest upon my snarled hair, and for the hundredth time, I curse myself for not having that bath. And though I know the torturous smell must tickle his nose the same way his honeyed scent tickles mine, he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, we sit hunched on the edge of the bed and simply breathe.
Together.
There’s nothing but the subtle sound of our hearts, beating in tune to a wild, unfamiliar song. But for the first time since my papa went missing, I’m content, perfectly content, until finally, he speaks again.
“Do you really think that of me?” he whispers, strands of hair flying up and landing softly against my neck.
“Think what?” I ask, dreading his answer and pretending I don’t understand his meaning all the same.
“That I—that I often find myself in these predicaments… because I don’t.” He laughs, a small jump in our hold. “It’s the opposite, actually. As unbelievable as this might seem, I don’t really find myself in too many situations with women. Not like that, anyway. I mean—” He stumbles, and my heart clenches to suddenly hear him so unsure. “I’ve never cared for anyone like that. Romantically, I mean.”
The words send a welcome shock to my system, and for the first time, I’m completely unsure of what to say. Here is Aras, the king of all things charming and confident, and he’s admitting what he believes to be his most embarrassing truth. Though I don’t find it embarrassing at all.
I find it perfect. I find it just like me.
For once, Reeve’s deceptive words from the waterfall slip away—nothing but an errant thought left struggling to stay afloat among the racing rapids. If Aras’ words are true, Cil is not the mysterious girl Reeve spoke of, and apparently, there’s isn’t any one girl who truly holds his heart. But if that’s the case, then who else could he mean?
Aras mistakes my silence for judgment, and he quickly untangles himself from our hold. Cold rushes in, and immediately, I feel the loss settle in my heart. “Now you really think I’m a fool,” he moans, sliding sideways on the bed and placing his mortified face in his hands. “Some guide I’ve turned out to be, right?”
“Aras,” I whisper, moving over to pull his hands into my own and forcing him to look my way. “You’re the best guide I’ve ever had.”
And then we’re laughing. Barely able to catch our breath, ugly tears, laughing. The kind that hurts your belly and soothes your soul all at the same time. We laugh, and we laugh, and we laugh some more, until we are nothing but heaving breaths, trying to live again. Letting go of his hands, I plop back on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling above. Aras follows my lead, and we lay there together, never touching, but closer all the same. I’m about to resign myself to another night of pure stink when he reaches out, a playful flick of his fingers upon my hand.
“And what of you, Bravest?” he teases, though I tense at the underlying tone I hear in his voice. “Were you ever involved with anyone?” He swallows, pausing to measure his words, but there’s no need. I already know what he’s going to say, and it hurts to even think it. “Crisp, perhaps?”
My mouth runs dry as I go to speak, but my words struggle to form. “Aras,” I choke.
“Got your hot water, miss,” a stern voice shouts as the door to my room flies open. A stout woman with arms the size of small cannons bustles in as if she hasn’t just interrupted a life-altering conversation between two confused idiots.
Immediately, I fly to my feet, almost knocking Aras off the small bed in my fright. He rises, too, but not as fast as I think he should. I’m not sure what things are like in Orien, but where I come from, being caught lying on the bed with a member of the opposite sex is grounds for a firm talking to—not to mention a week’s worth of chores. Not that I’ve had personal experience, of course, but Sara’s had enough for us both, and I tend to learn from other people’s mistakes.
Absently, I brush at my tunic, as if pure humiliation is a tangible thing that I can rake away. It’s all for naught though, as the woman pays me no heed, instead busily filling the corner tub with the most precious thing I’ve seen in what seems like weeks
. Steam rises as the last of the bucket finds its way in, and my shoulders sag with pure relief.
“You best be finding your exit, Aras,” the woman says, keeping her back toward the room. “Unless you plan on staying.”
Aras, bless his soul, practically jumps out of his boots before mumbling something about taking his leave. I walk him to the door, this time determined to lock it up tight. Aras walks out into the cramped hallway and hesitates before spinning on his heel and rounding right back in. Slowly, as if corralling a timid lamb, his arms come up to encompass my stiff back in what can only be described as the warmest of hugs.
It’s no surprise when his whispers find me with a startled smile upon my face.
“I just felt like I should do that,” he says, referring to what I think is his enduring hug, “and also, I need you to meet me downstairs for supper.”
His last words squeeze through in a knowing rush, as he fully understands I had no intention of leaving this room for the night. Although, after a hug like that, who could resist? And I’m quite sure he knows it.
Wiley beast.
“Get out of here, Aras, and let’s just hope this warm water washes away any foolish memories of you with it.”
He smiles a wicked, dimpled grin. “Not all of them, I hope.”
And with that, I shove him out the door, actually looking forward to supper, though it’s the last place I need to be. Turning to face the woman still left tending to the bath, I clear my throat, not exactly sure of the polite way to run her out as well.
“Thank you,” I say, hoping this will also serve as a universal parting.
For the first time since entering the room, her warm eyes take me in. Though her raven hair is tied back in a neat bun, random streaks of gray sneak out from around her face. If I had to guess, she’s been out here in these woods for much longer than she intended, and it breaks my heart. “Oh, get on with it, girl. You haven’t got anything that will surprise me. It’s not my job to be looking anyway. It’s my job to make sure you’ve got everything you need.”
Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1) Page 23
