Page 90 of The Trials of Ophelia
“You make me want to fight my demons,” Tol whispered, kissing me softly.
Twining my fingers through his, I led him back to the inn. Across the paths lined with cyphers, bantering easily about the day. No thought of haunted nightmares or torturous parents or cursed emblems even crossing our lips. Just my best friend—my infinite tether to all things good and true—and me.
“Will you come in?” I asked at the door to my room.
“I can for a while, yeah,” he said, holding the door wide for me.
“No,” I corrected, walking through and tugging him after me into the circle of moonlight through deep burgundy curtains. “I’d like you to stay.”
He eyed me. “Are you sure?” Hope lifted his voice.
“Yes, Tol. I want you to stay. I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep and if those cursed nightmares wake you in the middle of the night, I’ll be here. Because I’m going to keep you safe.”
A different kind of intimacy, that’s what I was offering.
Something flourished within his eyes as I spoke. Desire. In revealing these pieces of himself tonight, he’d also pulled back a bit of the restraint we’d both been clinging to.
Heat gathered between my legs, needy and wanton. But I wouldn’t turn his admission into that, wouldn’t take this new bond between us and make it an impetus for something physical. Every touch already fanned the flame within me, but I wanted to nurture the other half of a relationship first.
Tolek smiled, wide and uninhibited, cheeks tinting pink. “Keep me safe, Alabath.”
Chapter Thirty
Malakai
The lights in Lyria and Mila’s cabin glowed against the snow-flecked night. Winter was moving in earlier this year, even in the frigid southern mountains. They didn’t typically receive snow quite this early. Foreboding swirled in my gut at the consideration of how that would affect our armies.
It would give the Mindshapers another advantage for sure.
Knocking the powder from my boots, I hurried up the steps and through the door, into the haven of mystlight warmth. Everyone on Lyria’s council was already here.
“There he is.” Barrett sighed when I entered, rolling his eyes. He was laying across one of the worn leather couches, legs kicked over the arm, and Rebel surprisingly not at his side.
Once I approached the table, Barrett joined us. Under the dim lantern light from above, he completed our circle. Lyria, Mila, Dax, Cyren, Quilian, and Amara. The commander, the generals of the alliance army, Barrett, and me.
Standing among them, some unfamiliar weight settled on my shoulders.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I was helping Ronders and Gustal straighten the training arena.” Two of the Mystiques who hadn’t shunned me upon my arrival. Though, it had been less icy lately.
Most didn’t look up, but Mila gave me a nod of approval. A little relief loosened my chest, but I wasn’t sure why. All I’d done was polish swords, a task I’ve known to do since I was a child. I gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.
“That’s fine.” Lyria’s voice was all Master of Weapons and Warfare. “We’re going to have a long night regardless.”
My stomach twisted. “What happened?” I tried to catch anyone’s eye, but none of the generals seemed to know what she was talking about. Quil gave me a bemused shake of his head. Amara narrowed her eyes on the figures on the table, deciphering.
Lyria leaned forward, propping her weight on her fists atop the table. Her eyes locked on the map and the clan sigils marking it.
“They’re moving,” she clipped. “My spies through the territories have reported that an Engrossian legion has been spotted.”
“Where?” Barrett asked.
“Along the base of the Mystique mountains. First, it was only in Mindshaper territory. We were preparing for them to push through the passes to reach us here.” Lyria dragged a finger along the eastern edge of the range. “They’re in Bodymelder land now.”
“What?” Esmond growled, and every head in the room whipped toward the kitchen. He never spoke in these meetings except to provide reports. “We’re neutral.” He gripped the vial he’d been filling with a deep purple liquid so tightly, I thought it might shatter.
“I don’t think Kakias much cares for technicalities,” Amara seethed, her arms crossed as she studied the new map.
“Brigiet won’t take well to this.” Esmond’s stare was distant, as if calculating how the Engrossian movements could progress and how his chancellor would react.
