He nods again, encouraging me to continue.
My hands tremble as I clasp them together. “When I first arrived in Karra, I stumbled into an alley and overheard some men talking about being part of the rebellion. They saw me and...” I swallow through the acid burning my throat, the memory of their rough hands on me making my skin crawl. “They took me to Hawke. He accused me of spying, but I told him I was lost. He said he’d spare my life if I did something for him.”
Cenric’s jaw clenches.
The words continue to spill out of me. “He wanted me to spy on you. He threatened my family, said he had men in Astarobane who would kill them if I didn’t obey. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. So, you see, I’m not a spy. I’m just a woman who loves her family with every fiber of her being.”
When he doesn’t respond right away, I add, “Please believe me, Cenric. Ineedyou.”
I risk a glance at him, bracing myself for anger, for accusation. Instead, I find something else in his eyes. Something that looks achingly like understanding.
The hard lines of his face relax. “I believe you, Everly,” he says, his voice flat, emotionless. He might as well be discussing the price of grain.
Isearch his face for any sign of warmth, any hint of the connection we shared before. But there’s nothing.
“That’s why you’ll remain by my side from now on.” He turns back to the map. “I’ll send a missive to Astarobane to protect your family. Though, I doubt Hawke actually has men in Astarobane. But I won’t take that risk.”
Cenric’s words should comfort me, but they don’t. They only deepen the hollow feeling in my gut. This isn’t the Cenric I know. The one who kissed me with such passion, who looked at me like I was the only person in the world.
I want to scream, to shake him, to demand he look at me, really look. But I remain silent, watching as he continues to study the map, his face a mask of cool detachment.
I struggle to breathe, to think past the growing certainty that nothing will ever be the same between us again.
I floponto my side for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Cenric sleeps next to me, his breathing mocking my inability to fall asleep.
I glance over at him, my heart aching at the sight of his relaxed face. His long eyelashes rest against his cheeks, and loose strand of dark hair falls across his forehead.
He looks so peaceful. So unbothered. And here I am, feeling like my heart has been scooped out of my chest.
I turn away, unable to bear looking at him any longer.
It’s disheartening to think that a few nights ago there was fire between us. Now, the coldness hanging over us could freeze volcanic ash.
Another snore escapes him, and I resist the impulse to smother him with my pillow. Or maybe smother myself. At least then I’d get some sleep.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but all I can think about is Cenric.
Cenric’s smile. Cenric’s laugh. Cenric’s lips on mine.
Cenric, Cenric, Cenric.
A snort escapes me as I yank my blanket closer. The man’s barely spoken two words to me all day, and here I am, mooning over him.
Cenric shifts in his sleep, his arm brushing against mine. I freeze, holding my breath. Great. Now, I’m afraid to move in case I wake him.
Maybe if I close my eyes and count sheep, I’ll fall asleep.
One.
Two.
Three.
As hard as I try to imagine sheep, the image morphs into Cenric. Then, a field full of scowling, muscular men with broadswords.
That’s disturbingly appealing.
What is wrong with me?
