Page 74 of The Stolen Crown

Perhaps he might share his side. Perhaps this man might finally unburden the shadows in his eyes.

Tait did none of it, but merely said, “I’m glad he’s gone.” He settled onto his back, one hand behind his head.

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, then peered out through the mouth of the cavern into the pitch of night. “Hearttalker?”

“Heartwalker.”

I ignored him. “I swear not to toss and turn, but would you mind horribly if I, well, if I sleep a little nearer to your unpleasantness tonight?”

When he did not answer right away, I had grand plans to flee the cavern and conceal my embarrassment by sleeping in the sea.

“Fine.” Tait scooted over just enough to give me space to fit beside him. “But if you toss and turn, you must finish building the skiff while I do nothing but watch.”

“Ah, I see you do not care if we float. Still, you have a bargain.” I nestled against his chest.

I did not drape my arm over his body or twine my feet with his as I desired. If the notches on the wall were to be believed, we’d spent the whole of thirteen sunrises together, and in that time, I deduced with certainty that Tait preferred not to be touched.

With my arms cradled tightly against my chest and my head tucked beneath his chin, the heat of his body and the thrum of his heart lulled me into a sleep where the darkness of the past would not find me.

By the time we woke the next morning, the sun had long since risen.

I did not mention the way half of my body rolled atop his during the night, didn’t speak of the line of spittle left on his chest. Tait did not mention how sometime during sleep, he wrapped me up in his arms, and when dawn woke the isle, he quietly unraveled himself from my body.

We spoke of none of it and made quick work of finishing our tasks to escape.

Each day the desire to leave weakened. I was not a fool, nor was Tait. There was something dark on this isle, something that slaughtered an entire village, and I feared whatever horrors took them now fought to keep us.

When one of us would drift and stare mindlessly at the sea, the other would hand over a tool or a water pail as a signal to keep moving. There was a home waiting for us, and it was not this isle.

I steadied the post that would be the center mast of our skiff while Tait tied the heavy linens into a sail.

His fingers were deft and clever with knots. Boneseer would have been proud his patience had proven beneficial.

By midday, a thick, humid wind added a layer of heat to the air. Soon enough, I tied my hair atop my head and Tait stripped off his tunic.

Rather odious of him, to be sure, since I was doing all I could to remind my traitorous desires it was better to keep a comfortable distance from Tait Heartwalker. Every time I fell into his pull, I ended up with a sore heart not long after.

We were here to survive together. Our interactions had to end there.

But he stood so near I could see droplets of sweat sliding over the planes of his strong shoulders.

When I handed him one of the old mallets to add spikes to the new boat, I could not help but count the scars on his skin. A crisscross pattern on a few ribs, one on the inside of his forearm, and two jagged marks on the back of his neck.

I tied half-hearted knots, lost in a haze when his trousers slid down just enough to reveal two dimples above the line of his lower back.

More than once, I peered at him from the corner of my eye when he tipped his head back and drank from cupped leaves. Every swallow added heat deep in my belly until I was forced to wade into one of the tide pools to force the flush to recede.

My nightmare broke the stern silence between us, but caution was needed around the man. Our proximity already made the battle not to fall for his grousing and rare smiles difficult enough.

Despite the tension between us, the more I learned of Tait Heartwalker, the more I craved him.

I knew he twisted the silver rings on his fingers when he was deep in thought. Before he slept, he rolled onto one shoulder, then the next, before finding comfort on his back. The man flicked open the face of the small clock he called a pocket watch, then closed it when he was at ease, almost as though he did not realize he was doing it. Touch was confusing. There were moments when Tait would reach for me, then shove his hands in his pockets as though he never had.

I didn’t know if he disliked nearness to everyone, but part of me feared he simply hated the thought of touching me.

Knee-deep in the tide pool, heat faded from my cheeks, and I let out a long sigh before turning back toward the beach. But on my next step, a white shock of pain lanced up my shin. I stumbled forward and cried out in anguish.

I tried to find my footing, but another barb of heat boiled over my leg, just above the first jab.