Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,34
my reverie. He tied his mount’s reins so that Pern could follow behind us. His arm wrapped around my waist and pressed me close when I tried to move away.
“What are you doing?”
“One, you’re about to fall off your horse, and two, I’m shielding you.”
“But I can’t—”
“You can’t help them all, Aura.” He flicked the reins, and we began moving, his will so strong, I didn’t hear a single voice. And as we rode past, I looked at the faces of the men, women, and children, I almost felt sad that I couldn’t help them.
Even when we cleared the capital city, Liam didn’t switch mounts, but rode behind me, letting me rest my weight against his chest. A few times he needed to adjust the reins, and he’d bend down, his cheek brushing against mine.
Each time was just a passing touch, but every single one felt like a kiss against my skin. But he was silent, and I was frustrated that I couldn’t hear what he was thinking.
We stayed on the smaller roads and avoided all large cities. And even when we had the chance to stay at an inn, Liam avoided the comforts because of me, choosing instead to camp under the stars.
Dinner consisted of dried meat and rations. Liam laid our bedrolls out on opposite sides of the fire, a safe distance from each other. He was unusually silent. The opposite of me, where I loved chatting, but I didn’t know what to talk about.
“Tell me about yourself,” I asked. “I know that you’re a knight, but what else. Tell me about your parents.”
“I have no parents,” he said. “As soon as I was old enough, I enlisted and trained to become a knight and protect the kingdom of Rya. Now, I’m the commander of the king’s guard.” He stoked the fire and added more kindling. The glow lit his handsome face, revealing his sad and haunted eyes. There was something from his past that hurt, and I wanted to know what it was so I could help.
I pressed for answers and those green eyes flicked up at me. “Don’t,” he warned.
“You could feel that?” I asked in surprise. “Usually no one can tell when I pry.”
“Yes.” He broke a stick and tossed it into the fire. He looked uncomfortable. “It, uh . . . tickled.”
“Really,” I chuckled. “Let me try again.” I pushed back even harder, but I wasn’t aiming for any answers in particular. I wanted to see his expression turn from sad to laughter as I mentally tickled him, testing his power and limits.
I wasn’t prepared for his response, which felt like a mental slap in the face. I gasped in pain, and my hand touched my cheek where it felt warm from the fresh stinging ache.
Liam looked at me in horror. “Aura, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I sniffed, trying to hold back the tears of pain. The playful mood I was aiming for shot down. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong of me.”
“No really, that was uncalled for. I didn’t even know I could do that.” His voice was filled with remorse.
I curled up on my side and pulled the blanket over my chin, focusing on listening to the crickets and the crackling of the fire.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But it’s better if you don’t pry into my past. You won’t like what you find, and the thought of you hating me is more than I can bear.”
Chapter Eleven
Our second day on the road was filled with light conversation. It seemed Liam was trying to make up for the previous day’s lack of discussion. He asked me to tell him what it was like growing up with Lady Eville. What kind of training did I go through? I explained to him what we were doing the day I found him.
“My cat, Hack, would always give me clues as long as I promised to feed him.” I laughed. “I can find anyone, anywhere.”
“No doubt.” He grinned and challenged me. “I bet you wouldn’t be able to find me.”
“I bet I could find you within minutes,” I said confidently, tucking a strand of my pale hair behind my ear. “But you would never find me. Not if I didn’t want to be found.”
His horse walked close, and our legs bumped together. His eyes met mine, and he became very somber. “It wouldn’t matter how long it took. I will always find you.” It wasn’t a statement, but a promise.