“You wouldn’t have let me go.” It’s a weak excuse, but it’s the first thing I think of.
“You’re damn right.” Frustration molds his face and echoes in his tone. “You have no control over time when you travel through it. Five summers could have passed. Or more. Was that a risk you were willing to take?”
I blink and swallow through the tightness in my throat. “Everly didn’t tell me that until after I left with her.”
“Would it have stopped you?”
The room spins as I clench my hands into fists, needing to not fall apart, to not crumble, to not melt into a puddle of nothingness. “I don’t know.”
“Let me see your hands.”
I hold them out, showing him that the black is gone.
Warmth edges into his expression, and the lines near his mouth soften. “I’m glad you’re healed.”
“Everything is different,” I say as I think about the flowers Tersah gave me. “Tersah gave me magical flowers to use when I cast Bloodstone magic. But I need Mildred to teach me how to use them.”
His brow lifts. “Like the ones Tersah likes to make in the dead of winter?”
“I think so.” I move closer to his desk, drawn by an irresistible need to be near him, to touch him, to kiss him until we’re both breathless.
“That’s my favorite cloak,” he says as he allows his gaze to caress me.
“I won’t give it back.” His cloak has given me security and comfort. Even the gods couldn’t take it away.
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“Good,” I say with a smile. A smile he doesn’t return.
“Have you eaten?” he asks, changing the subject. “It doesn’t look like it.”
Before I reply, he stands, and my breath catches at the sight of him. He’s more handsome than I remember. His straight nose, the one I have traced with my fingers a thousand times, leads to that familiar, full mouth that knows how to pleasure me.
His hair, raven-black and tousled just right, frames his face in a way that has always drawn me in. But it’s his beautiful silver-blue eyes I find myself lost in every time we reunite.
He moves around his desk and exits the tent. I stare after him, longing for him and not food.
A few moments later, he appears with an older woman in tow. “Dauna will take you to a tent where you can eat and rest.”
“Hector.” I open my mouth to say everything I’m thinking, but the words are stuck.
“We will talk later.” He nods at the woman.
“But…” I manage, desperate to reunite with him, to throw myself in his arms, and for him to bed me.
I really need him to bed me.
Something about the sternness of his jaw keeps me from asking. Instead, I allow the woman to lead me from the tent and away from my husband.
Dauna guides me through the camp, her steps never faltering as we weave in and out of groups of people. Those black crows follow again, staying near me as Dauna directs me to a tent, guarded by two Bloodstone warriors.
It’s smaller than Hector’s, but still larger than most. She guides me inside and gestures for me to sit on a bed in the corner.
“I’ll fetch you some food,” she says before disappearing through the opening of the tent.
I sit there alone, my mind racing with thoughts of Hector and everything that has happened since I left.
When Dauna returns, she carries a tray of freshly baked bread, cheese, grapes, and a jar of wine.
