War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,150

beneath.

Mare finally looks up, smirking as she tosses her hair back. “You sound like a creaky door.”

I hiss out a pained laugh. “Feel like one.”

“See a healer in the morning.” Despite the playful twist of her lips, I hear her concern all the same. Her eyes narrow, looking darker in the dim light. “Or send for Sara. She’ll come now if you want. I don’t think she or Julian will sleep until we get an answer.”

I shake my head and heave myself out of the chair. “I’ll bother them tomorrow,” I say, taking even steps toward the bed. Every foot closer seems to tighten my muscles with a different kind of ache.

She tracks me like a cat as I ease down next to her, lying back on my elbows. An ocean breeze rolls in at the window, billowing the golden curtains with an invisible hand. We both shudder. Slowly, I take the letter from her hand, put it to the side without breaking our stare.

I dread these quiet moments, and I think she does too. The silence, the empty waiting, makes it impossible to ignore exactly what we’re doing. Or not doing, rather.

No change has been made on either side, in her heart or in mine. No choice reversed. But every passing second makes my decision more difficult as I’m reminded of what I’m going to lose when the time comes. What I lost for so many weeks. Not just her love, but her voice. Her sharpness. The push and pull of a person who has no regard for my blood or my crown. Someone who sees me, and no one else in my place.

Someone who calls me Cal, and not Tiberias.

Mare puts a hand to my cheek, splaying her fingers behind my ear. She is more tentative than before, more clinical. Like a healer examining a wound. I lean into the touch a little, chasing the cooling feel of her skin.

“Are you going to tell me this is the last time?” I ask, looking up at her.

Her expression melts a bit, as if wiped clean. But her eyes don’t waver. “Again?”

I nod against her hand.

“This is the last time,” she says flatly.

I feel a hum deep in my chest. My fire roars in response, begging to burn free. “Are you lying?”

“Again?”

Her lips twitch as I run a hand the length of her leg, from ankle to hip. The fingers on my face trace a gentle path as I bob my head, feeling my own blood heat.

Mare’s response is quiet, barely more than a gasp. “I hope so.”

She stops me before I can say anything else.

Her kiss devours.

No choices made.

Again.

Mare is dressed, perched precariously in the open window, when someone knocks on the bedroom door, waking me. I half expect her to duck out and disappear into the night air, but instead she pulls back inside. Her face flushes and she tosses me my robe. I get a faceful of silk.

“Staying put?” I ask, low enough so the person in the adjoining chamber won’t hear. “You don’t have to.”

She just glares at me. “What’s the point? Everyone will know soon enough.”

Know what, exactly? I want to ask, but I hold my tongue. Stretching, I stand from the bed and pull the robe tight, knotting it at my waist. She watches as I move, eyes trailing. “What?” I whisper, sporting a half grin.

Instead her lips press into a thin line. “You had some scars removed.”

I can only shrug. It’s been weeks since I had a healer erase the older scars across my back and ribs, wiping away the raised edges of white, knotted flesh. Wounds unbecoming of a king. I’m a bit flattered she remembered enough to know. “Some things don’t have to be held on to.”

Her eyes narrow. “And some things do, Cal.”

I can only nod in silent agreement, unwilling to follow her over the precipice of that particular conversation. It won’t lead us anywhere productive.

Mare settles against my desk, leaning a bit, squaring herself to the door. Her countenance changes, her eyes sharpening as the rest of her seems to harden into a different person. A bit of Mareena, the Silver she pretended to be. A bit of the lightning girl, all sparks and merciless fury. With herself in between, the girl I’m still figuring out. She ducks her chin, nodding at me.

As I open the door, I can just hear her suck in a fortifying breath.

“Julian,” I say, moving aside to let my uncle into the room.

He takes