Page 57 of Winds of Ruin
Frost accumulated on the pub hallway windows; the first snow would be upon the North Corridor any moment. Months had passed since Lark’s eighteenth birthday; today it was mine.
At dinner tonight, my niece had been horrified to learn that I’d spentmyeighteenth birthday attempting, unsuccessfully, to win her father’s affection. Back then, my own girlish crush on him had made the line between my savior’s kindness and potential feelings for me seem thin.
I’m glad Krait had been relentless in his dismissal. It pushed me, frustrated and rejected, into the training ring with an exiled Phynnic Prince who I, at first, loathed. It led me to a sleeping King that wouldn’t leave my mind.
A roar of laughter echoed down the blurred, dimly lit hall. My collarbone muffled his subtle groan before damp lips traced a line between my breasts. Hands shoved my skirt up around mywaist. Hoisted against the dusty-green wallpaper, I gritted my teeth.
A pit formed in my gut.
Stop.
I should have returned home after dinner in Luz; why didn’t I ever learn?
“That’s enough,” I said.
The man, who had already released himself from his breeches, stilled. He looked right and left down the dingy hallway as though convinced someone was approaching us. The clank of glasses and the drunken bustle of the pub’s main hall dulled against the throbbing in my ears.
We stood beside a back door. “You want to go outside, love?” he asked—breath hot and suddenly burning against my cheek like a bad rash. His face was handsome, his stature tall, though a tad on the lankier side.
My mother used to say that I thrived on impulse.
I’d always known better.
I longed for areaction. Two metal balls swinging together in a pendulum—breaking apart in equal measure. The way a man’s eyes hooded as he pushed inside of me, or how a woman’s breath hitched when I ran my lips up her neck. That is all it used to take to distract me.
Action. Reaction.Physical moments and nothing more.
Easy thrills no longer cut through the ache of loss. No reaction could veil my darkest moments. The pendulum had swung off course when Ryn had turned to dust and again when we’d buried that mirror.
I could not see the one smile that could break my piss-poor mood. I couldn’t visit Emmerick in that room in Luz. He lay too still.
“No, I’ve changed my mind,” I said.
“You’re joking,” he panted out. I pushed him away by the chest and returned to my feet.
This all felt so damned wrong.
His hair wasn’t dark enough, he wasn’t broad-shouldered enough, his breath smelled of ale, and the ground felt like it spun beneath me.
I sighed. “Afraid not. I’ve lost the mood.”
The man named... Ronan? Owan? Either way, he scowled and pulled away from me to buckle his breeches.
“Wicked fucking woman.”
“That has a nice ring to it,” I mused, smoothing down the skirt of my thick wool dress. Winter brought heavier clothing; I’d missed dressing for the snow while living in the Sahlms all those centuries. Though, I’d loved wearing as little as possible in the sweltering desert heat.
Ronan-Owan dragged his eyes up and down me as I slumped against the wall to stay upright.
I’d not successfully taken a lover in... the count of years wouldn’t come to me.
Sex used to be a favorite pastime, next to shopping at the night markets in Sahlmsara and primping for any occasion. Old habits convinced me to keep giving it a try—a birthday tryst, just what I needed.Wrong.
Once again, on the brink of copulation, I felt too empty to follow through.
There was the brunette guard in Helos. Sources, she’d been lovely. Big brown eyes, and an eagerness that should have brought me to my knees in an instant. I had stopped halfway through undressing her. She’d cried, and instead of spending the evening worshiping her, as planned, I spent it convincing her she was breathtaking and that the problem lay withme.
Ronan-Owan let out an exasperated slew of curses before skulking off toward the bar.
