Page 109 of The Fury She Holds
Tal bit back the humor in her voice. “He’s a menace.”
“He’s an asshole.”
Tal took a steadying breath to gather her thoughts again. “Your name? Should I start calling you James now?”
“I was anointed King James when I took the throne. My birth name, the name my mother gave me, is Faron. I’m only called James when I’m performing royal duties.”
Tal tilted her head at that revelation. “What about the rumors? The nights you supposedly spend in women’s beds?”
“It’s a ruse. Waylon runs around pretending to be me. How else would I get away with sneaking out every night as the masked maroon swordsman?” He stopped his advance.
“Why did you kiss me, if you knew you were lying to me?” Hurt broke through her voice, and she hated herself for the show of weakness.
“You kissed me, remember?”
She felt a grim satisfaction at the pain in his eyes. “But you kissed me back.” She couldn’t understand why she struggled to breathe.
He was close enough to reach out and touch. His hand twitched as if he too resisted the urge. “Do you really think I could resist you?” That easy smirk returned to his face, and Tal felt a bit of relief. He’d grinned in the weeks since she’d learned of his true identity, but never this one, never the sweet, carefree, almost boyish grin that he used to give her so often.
“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t forgive easily,” she said, either as a warning or an opening, she couldn’t be sure which.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He took a tentative step toward her. One more and he would be close enough to wrap his arms around her.
“And what about your responsibility? The council would never approve of a relationship between the two of us.”
“I’m the king, remember? I’ll dismiss them and make my own laws.”
When her shoulders slumped, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a gentle embrace, like he had after she killed the mage. Before him, she had never known such tenderness accompanied by warmth and trust. He held her head against his chest for a moment, then pulled back and placed his hands on either side of her face, cupping her jaw. “I’ll spend every moment fighting for your forgiveness if you let me.” He kissed her, gently, and she let him.
31
Tal’s dagger landed in the wooden pole with a solidthunk. She turned her smug grin to Carrick. “Oh? What were you saying?”
Carrick answered with a perfectly placed dagger in the next pole. “I was saying that you’re going to pay for tonight’s round.”
Sunset glared off the Taralin, painting the pier in red and orange hues. A warm breeze gusted on the water. It stunk of trash and seaweed, and Tal breathed it in gratefully. Each exhausted exhale pressed heavily on her sternum, but she welcomed it.
A week had passed since her afternoon under the willow tree. She found the town’s guardian in the distance. The leaves hung motionless despite the breeze at her back. It seemed that the willow always lived in contrast to life below the hill.
Unease turned Tal’s stomach. Every night since that afternoon, she'd had nightmares filled with images she hadn't known to fear until now—a ship with sails as black as death approaching her shores, Faron eyeing her with nothing morethan indifference, the palace in ruins, Carrick's beautiful face marred with a bloody grimace.
Every night, Tal's dreams ended in the same devastated forest. She opened her eyes to gray skies and charred remains. Her heart hammered in her ribs—or was that her magic? Echoes of screams rang in her ears, and bodies lay at her feet. Panic gripped her by the throat. She couldn’t breathe. Ash coated her lungs. She collapsed in still-warm embers, coughing and retching. Her hands turned black as they searched the ground—for what, she didn't know. At last, they connected with a power so great, it pulled her in and sent a shockwave through her, jarring her from the dream. The last thing she saw before the panic dissipated was the willow tree looming over her.
“Are we finishing this game, or what?” Carrick’s voice cut through her exhausted haze.
Tal blinked.It's just a dream.She retrieved her daggers and joined her friend at the other end of the pier. “Maybe I can trick Faron into paying tonight,” she attempted her usual flippant tone.
“You won’t even have to try. He pays every night.” Carrick’s dagger landed high. “So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to drag it out of you?”
Tal’s throw landed square in the center of her post. “Tell you what?”
“If you two had a chance to talk or if you’re both pretending you didn’t want to break his nose.” The next dagger landed low, and Carrick swore.
“We talked.” Tal flipped her blade in the air, feeling like herself once again.
“And?” Her friend turned his broad chest to her.
“And he’s an ass for keeping it a secret.” She paused to take her turn. “But I guess he’s made up for it.”
