Empire of Night

Chapter Fifty-Eight

The Quiet Moments

With Ephaxus' shadow able to provide ample protection from the sun, even without the extension of his wing, the blanket was more an excuse than a redundancy. They both knew she could have easily made the walk back to her tent, yet Inerys offered neither comment nor protest as Rhydian checked the makeshift hood he'd fashioned for her. The way the fabric hung from her lithe figure left more skin exposed along her legs than he might have liked, but then again, she wasn't in any real danger, was she?

He sighed and silently cursed himself as he led on down the hill. This nightmare of a day had to end. Maybe then, he'd be able to think straight.

"Does it hurt?" Inerys murmured, "The oath?"

"Sometimes," he said, resisting the urge to rub at the steady pressure behind his ribs.

"Always? Or only when you're around me?"

The weight of Ephaxus' attention settled along his back, the wyvern no doubt eager to learn the extent of the threat Rhydian might pose. He wanted to lie, tell her this newfound strain was a constant regardless of where he was or what he was doing, but he wouldn't. They had once agreed to be honest with one another and so, he would be. Even if it stung.

"The latter, I'm afraid."

A certain silence fell between them when they ducked into her tent, though he began to question why he'd followed her inside at all. She was here, she was safe, so why hadn't he bid her goodnight and taken his leave outside the entrance the way he always did? She stood with her back to him, sliding the blanket from her shoulders and gathering it in her arms. Maybe he could still sneak out and pretend none of this–

"Then why linger any longer than you have to? Why walk me back to my tent?" She asked, voice soft as she turned to face him.

A muscle flexed along his jaw, for he knew the answer. He simply wasn't sure he could give it voice. He should go, he thought, fabricate another excuse to end the discussion and spare himself any further embarrassment. However, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

You should tell her, Tanuzet said.

Now's hardly the best time, he argued.

Waiting for the opportune moment is the quickest way to avoid doing so all together.

His lips thinned, but maybe she had a point.

"Because I care," he said quietly, "Far more than I should."

"For me?"

He gave a sore chuckle, "Isn't it obvious?"

Stepping closer, she set the blanket aside in favor of his hand. The brush of skin on skin sent gooseflesh skittering up the back of his neck, yet he remained still as he watched her turn his palm over for her inspection. She smiled to herself and traced a nimble finger along the edge of the soap residue marbling his otherwise dark skin, "Maybe a little."

Curse him, but that little smirk of hers was enough to steal what breath he had left after tonight. Heat crept along his ears, though he tried to focus on his hand, rather than the quickening of his heart. Or the smug satisfaction radiating from Tanuzet.

"Noticed that, did you?" He asked.

"There's a distinct possibility. Though I'm more curious as to where it ended up. Did you manage to toss it into the grass when I wasn't looking? Or is it in your pocket?"

With her particular sense of smell, he was fairly certain she already knew the answer, but he decided to humor her, "Ayduin would never let me hear the end of it if I lost one of her precious soaps."

"I can't say I'd blame her," she said, "It would be a shame to let it go to waste. The scent suits you."

"Black spruce and birch tar?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I'll have to remember that," he said, daring to brush his hand along her jawline.

Tired as he was, he hadn't failed to notice the way her attention fell to his lips. Warmth kindled within the shared space of their bond, yet he could sense her hesitation, see the conflict warring behind her eyes. He could guess her reservations well enough, yet before he could offer any sort of assurance, her resolve overtook what fears she held. She gently leaned into his touch and angled her chin in silent invitation.

"See that you do," she said.

Rhydian's breath grew shallow as he studied her, back rigid, oath tight. Knowing what they did now, moments like these were dangerous. He should warn her, stress caution in light of the uncertainty of their future, yet all he could do was stare while the attraction they'd shared for weeks reared its head in full. Rational thought became more suggestion than reality and bit by bit, he was slowly losing his hold on his restraint. His heart wanted nothing more than to give in, to surrender, and for once, his mind was inclined to agree.

With a muttered curse, he drew her close and threaded his fingers through her hair as he kissed her. He was answered not by a gasp, this time, but rather the indulgent growl of some woodland panther. Months ago, the feral sound would have had him reaching for a blade, yet he'd grown to accept her sharper edges. Admire them, even, for the woman he'd come to know was not a monster, but a survivor, a friend and perhaps something more.

Her hands found his shoulders, claws, which could so easily slice him bloody, flexing, then relaxing. However, the fervor in which she returned his affection was far from tempered. With a low chuckle, he drew his lips out of reach in order to brush the tip of his nose along her cheek and tease the sensitive flesh behind her jaw. The hitch in her breath had his thoughts growing thick and hazy with a certain desire he'd long since tried to deny himself. She inclined her head, granting him full and unfettered access to the smooth column of her throat, so he indulged her. His canines grazed her skin between kisses and careful nips, earning curses and small sounds of appreciation that were steadily driving him mad.

Her touch wandered lower along one side of his chest, taloned fingers gentle in their exploration. They splayed across the hard planes of muscle, then gradually drifted down to the fresh scar beneath his ribs. She traced its edges as if committing it to memory, though her touch lingered as her fingers curled. Slowly, her body began to tense.

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Rhydian paused. Had he done something wrong? Gone too far? Instead of pulling away, Inerys buried her face in his shoulder. Understanding dawned, then. She'd needed an assurance he was still here, still safe.

"You scared me half to death," she whispered.

"Forgive me," he said.

For a long moment, she remained silent and still in his arms. There was no tremble to her limbs, no sniffle to betray her tears. She simply leaned into him, content in his embrace. Eventually, he brushed his consciousness along hers. The unspoken question had her rousing in his arms and she backed just enough to search his face.

"I didn't mean to kill the mood," she said, banishing the moisture along her eyes with a deft hand, "I'm just glad you're all right."

"There's no need to apologize," he assured, "Though if you'd ever like to pick up where we left off, you need only ask."

The smirk she gave him in answer was almost cruel, "I'll take you up on the offer, eventually."

Sky's mercy.

"Is that a promise?" He asked, voice more hoarse than he might have liked.

"Maybe," she said, tilting her head and reaching a hand up between them to tug at one of his fledgeling horns, "Advancement looks good on you."

"Truth be told, I'd nearly forgotten about it," he said, lips quirking at her antics.

She smiled a little, though it quickly began to fade, "Was it what healed you?"

"It was, though I can't say it was the most pleasant experience."

"It's better than bleeding out."

"Fair enough," he said.

"Do the wounds still hurt?"

"Not really. There's a bit of numbness, but it should fade with time," he said, "I'll be fine. I promise."

"Are you sure we should leave so soon?"

He nodded as he stepped back, "Dusk would be preferable, but we'll see how long it takes to pack up camp. In the meantime, I should leave you to your rest. You'll need it. The same goes for Ephaxus."

"Tonight was hard on all of us," she said, biting her lip, "You, most especially. No one would blame you if you took an extra day to recover."

Were their roles reversed, he'd be inclined to say the same. However, the thought of remaining here any longer than absolutely necessary was enough to make him sick. He wasn't even sure he had the nerve to return to his own tent, let alone sleep. He was better off packing, or hunting, or scrubbing his skin raw a second time in some vain attempt to banish the memory of Vesryn's sticky blood along his fingers.

With a shake of his head, he turned to take his leave, "We've lingered here long enough as it is. I can rest when this is over."

Inerys caught his hand.

"Stay," she murmured, "You're not the only one who could use the company."

He hesitated. Kissing one another senseless was one thing, but, "I'm not sure it's wise for me to stay for any extended length of time, Inerys."

"Because of your oath?"

His hand strayed toward his chest of its own accord, as if it might ease the dull, persistent ache. The heat of their exchange had made its presence easy to forget, yet with his focus renewed, it coiled around his heart like an agitated serpent. While he wasn't certain it would grow to dictate his thoughts, he was afraid to test the theory, if he were honest.

"Yes," he said.

Silence hung in the air between them before she quietly asked, "Are you in control?"

"I am."

"Then I trust you."

"And Ephaxus?"

I trust you will not make promises you cannot keep, Firstrider, he growled.

Rhydian ran a hand through his hair, "Fair enough."

"If it hurts too much, I understand. The last thing I want to do is cause you any more pain tonight," she said, running a thoughtful thumb along the back of his palm before releasing it, "I just thought it might be nice to enjoy a moment's peace together."

His jaw flexed in frustration, not with her, but with himself for never allowing himself to relax. He should stay. Skies knew he wanted to. He'd crossed enough lines with her already, so why did he find it so difficult to give in now? Once, he might have blamed duty, but the truth was that after all that had happened, he wasn't certain he deserved moments like these. Not when he'd failed so many members of his flight.

Tanuzet's mental caress could only do so much to soothe the turmoil in his heart, though he took comfort in her steady support. Perhaps, just this once, he could enjoy the company of someone else. Allow himself to give in.

He turned to Inerys, then, and watched the way she carefully arranged the blankets above her bedroll.

"I wouldn't say no to a little peace," he said quietly.

She paused, though with a small smile, offered her hand for him to join her, "With luck, we'll actually find it."

"Provided your bondmate doesn't bite me in half for the transgression," he said, taking her fingers and finding his place beside her.

You will remain whole, Ephaxus drawled, So long as you do not give me reason to reconsider my generosity.

Tanuzet snorted from somewhere nearby, yet did not chastise him for the implied threat.

We'll be fine, Inerys assured, fluffing her hair and making herself comfortable among the blankets.

Rhydian, for his part, was stuck debating how close to settle himself beside her. While he was no stranger to sharing a bed with a woman, he'd never been in a position like this. Time spent between the sheets was often spent in activity, not rest. Though, he found the prospect of the latter alluring in its own right. No expectations, no exchange, just . . . sleep.

Peace, as she'd put it.

Settle yourself, Tanuzet soothed, If she wishes, she will come to you when she is ready.

I will, he said, having come to a similar conclusion.

Drawing a deep breath, he made himself comfortable upon his side and did his best to quiet what lingering doubts plagued his thoughts. She was here. She was safe. And so was he. He could take comfort in that simple fact alone.

"Do you have enough room?" He asked.

"I do," she said, cheeks tinting, "though you could come closer, if you like. I won't bite."

He raised a mock brow, "Oh? You know, I'm fairly certain I have a scar that suggests otherwise."

Her cheeks darkened further, "It only happened once."

"So far," he crooned.

Her eyes narrowed, "Keep that up and you're on the path to a second."

"In that case, perhaps it's best I keep my mouth shut and take you up on your offer?" He said, admiring the way her eyes shimmered in utter delight.

"One might say you're quite wise in your assumption."

"Well, in that case, consider it done," he said, shuffling closer and drawing her into his arms.

She giggled in surprise, tucking her arms and allowing him to bring her near flush with his chest without protest. A few minor adjustments on her part had her fully relaxing against him and sighing her contentment. He smiled, largely to himself, as he kissed her forehead and closed his eyes.

"Good night, Inerys."

"Good night," she whispered.