Page 38 of The Dark Prince
“The king is gone, if that eases your worries,” I said softly. “Though Aella has elected to stay behind,” I murmured all of this into his chest, trying to ease the tension by speaking of mundane matters.
“Do not let her bully you. We are not at court. This is your home,” he grunted above me.
I thought his defensiveness was odd. “All right,” I said softly.
Silence descended, and his breathing soon slowed and evened back out.
“Do yourself a favor,” he grit out. “Leave now, before you get hurt. The king … he won’t like anyone I marry. It’s … it’s not you.”
Anger hardened my resolve, and I tried to pull away. “You are not the only one allowed to have duty. You feel you must keep me safe. Well, maybe I feel I must keep you safe.”
A strangled sobbed choked its way from his throat. “Kept you safe? I led you into an ambush. You nearly lost your toes from frostbite. I murdered a man in front of you. Several actually,” he laughed, a bit hysterical. “I’ve brought you into a mess.” His voice dropped. There was nothing humorous about our situation. “I am the Dark Prince, disfigured and feared by all. I don’t deserve to be saved from anything.”
The ruined room spun in my mind’s eye, but I kept my eyes shut. He didn’t want me to look at him, so I wouldn’t.
“You’re wrong.” I insisted stubbornly.
He jerked against me, muscles going stiff.
I sighed, leaning into him. “I said it. You’re wrong. You saved me from my awful step-family. You did the best you could in the cold and acted immediately to get me new clothes when I froze. Mother above Tyr, you took an arrow in the back for me. How could you think you deserve nothing?”
He said nothing back, but I could only imagine his hunched, defeated stance.
“You know nothing,” he said softly. “If you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be kind to me. You’d try to run away.”
And yet reached out and pulled me down to him again. Tyr held me tightly to him, like I was a precious thing someone would take from him at any moment. As if I would decide to run away. My wedding cords flashed in my mind; blue for safe travels, white for truth.Perhaps the little monk knew something Tyr and I didn’t.
“Try me,” I muttered half-heartedly, my eyes still closed. I didn’t quite understand what, but Tyr needed me. That was one truth that I knew beyond any doubt. “Put this on if you’d like,” I continued, my fingers curling around the edge of his mask, offering it up. “It doesn’t matter to me, but in ten seconds, I will open my eyes and look at your wound. You’re terribly irresponsible with it.”
He grunted with annoyance, and I wrinkled my nose at him. “What’s so funny?”
A hand came up and brushed my hair out of my face. “You’re trying so hard to look stern with your eyes closed. It doesn’t work.”
So I opened them to glare at him.
Tyr flinched, but didn’t move to grab the mask from me as I gazed on his bare face. His golden eyes were the same, but below that, it was clear he’d suffered a terrible injury at one point. A slash went from his right nostril down across his cheek and jaw, disappearing underneath his ear. The skin there puckered and felt hot to my touch, sunken in like the initial strike had taken a bit of bone with it. The nostril where it began was slit, but healed with heavy scar tissue. It looked horribly inflamed and raw, which was likely caused by his insistence on wearing the mask at all times. It would look much less shocking if he simply let it heal and the swelling went down.
I tilted my head to the side, confused. It was shocking to see at first, but I knew the man underneath. It changed nothing.
“Is this what all the fuss is over?” I asked, putting a hand up to ghost over the rough ridges of the wound. He closed his eyes and entwined his hands with mine as they rested carefully on his cheek.
“It’s a reminder that I don’t deserve any happiness on this earth.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve met gossiping washerwomen less dramatic than you.”
He bowed his head, his dark locks falling over his face. I put a finger under his chin and pushed up, like he’d done to me on the night he took me.
“You areworthy. And I admire you for taking me away from that awful place, even if the reasons were unscrupulous.” I placed a kiss on his brow. “And taking an arrow for me.” I kissed the tip of his nose. “And opening your home to me.” I ended with a kiss directly on his scarred cheek. “And trying to protect me.”
He sagged against me. Sensing I was about to lose him to another bout of self-loathing, I stood and tugged on his arms.
“Let’s clean the wound. Perhaps we should go to my rooms?” I suggested lightly. He stood slowly, face red and flushed. Without his mask, his thoughts broadcasted clearly on his face.
Yes was all he said, before slapping on his mask and leading me down the hallway. He paused, sniffing thoughtfully.
“Why does it smell like vanilla?”
I laughed and pulled him out into the hall. He entwined his fingers with mine and led the way.
