It's a matter of chasing the unattainable, sating the desire he invokes, tasting the forbidden wine. For that is what he is. Forbidden.
But that doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy what he offers. At least that’s what I tell myself as familiar voices float to me. Luc and Kassandra.
Though, their words are indiscernible, I make out one. Betrothed. After a few more dabs against my cheeks, I exit the bedchamber to congratulate a beaming Kassandra.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Birds chirp outside my window as I wake three days later to an empty bed. I dress, clean the cottage, then in a completely foolish move, I reach for a jar of wine. Instead of grabbing a terracotta goblet, I drink straight from the jar like Gabriel did, tipping it back over and over.
It’s easier to drink away my frustrations than to focus on everything I haven’t accomplished since I arrived in Astarobane. I still don’t know where Roland is.
I sing one of Mother’s favorite songs as I bake bread. Over and over again, I sing the same song and tip back the terracotta jar.
Once the bread is in the oven, I perch on a chair and slow my consumption to sips. After all, a deep fog settled over the cottage. Or the mist surrounding me is just my imagination. It probably is.
The front door swings open, and Gabriel steps inside. Torchlight sprawls over his features, illuminating his stiff jaw, his tired eyes, and the way he presses his lips together. He does that often, as though he internally prepares himself for a battle when he’s near me.
“Hello.” Clumsily, I salute the air in front of me.
His brow rises.
“I have been drinking.” With determination, I reach for the jar and lift it for him to observe. I even give it a little shake, allowing the liquid to slosh. “See. I like wine too.”
His brow furrows as he sweeps his gaze over me.
A giggle spills from my lips as I stumble to my feet and laugh again. “Would you like some?”
He shakes his head.
“More for me.” I draw the jar to my mouth but miss terribly, spilling the wine down the front of my surcoat. “Oh.”
His boots echo against the floor as he crosses the room and takes the jar from me. “You don’t need anymore.”
“Give it back, Gabriel.”
Determination glints in his eyes as he holds the jar from my reach. “Later.”
I doubt he means to give it back.
“I need…” I let out a loud hiccup, “…more.”
“Youneedsobering.”
“Shall you help me?” I loop my arms around his neck. “You’re so good.”
When he reaches for my hands, I grip him tighter. His warmth sinks into my surcoat. His scent invades my senses, a mixture of leather, smoke, and cherry wood.
“I have a secret,” I murmur against his neck.
He lowers the jar to the nearby table and turns to lift me into his arms.
“Oh.” I settle my head against his shoulder. “You feel nice.”
My body brushes against his as he crosses the room and steps into our bedchamber. Four steps carry him to the bed, where he deposits me in the center.
“I’ll make you some tea.”
A wave of dizziness hits me when I try to rise. So, I settle against a pillow.
