Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

OWEN

I wake up in the dark. My first thought is that it must be the middle of the night, but then I remember I’m only underground, and that it’s probably quite late, given the time Mara and I went to bed.

We woke once in the early hours of the morning, and when Mara arched her ass against me, I filled her dripping pussy with my cock while we were both still half asleep. We rocked together, our senses somehow heightened from having slept together, and she came first, squeezing my shaft so perfectly, I followed her over the edge within seconds.

I will never get enough of her sweet scent or the incredible feel of sinking deep inside her and hearing her mewling, shuddering breaths as she chases her pleasure.

Grinning, I flip over in bed. If she’s awake we could try that idea I had last night, when she sat on top of me and I asked her to ride me?—

But Mara isn’t there. Her side of the bed is empty, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice immediately. I should have had her warm body wrapped in my arms, and instead, the sheets are cold, as if it’s been a while since she left me here.

Cursing under my breath, I roll out of bed, but it’s pitch-dark, and I don’t remember where she left the lantern last night. I feel my way along the wall to the door and crack it open an inch to let in the glow of the lanterns from the corridor.

The sliver of light that pours into the room reveals the truth of my assumption—Mara isn’t there, not in the main room and not in the privy niche, hidden behind a tapestry. But when I glance back at the bed, frowning and trying to decide what to do, my gaze falls on a piece of paper on her pillow.

I move faster than I ever have and snatch up the note, then carry it over to the door to read Mara’s writing.

Owen, meet me in the entrance hall when you wake up. With love, Mara.

I stare down at the message, blinking. If I didn’t recognize her neat, elegant handwriting, I’d think the note was forged—for what would she want with the entrance hall? It leads outside, nowhere else, and?—

It hits me then that she might be trying to leave the Hill. The thought fills me with equal parts of terror and guilt, because I’m suddenly certain she’s doing it for me.

I drag on my pants, shove my feet into my boots, and grab my shirt before running out the door. I barely stop for long enough to push my arms into the sleeves of the shirt and tug it over my head, and then I’m off again, following the wooden signposts some kind soul had put up at the major crossroads in the Hill.

I recognize this part of the palace—I’ve been here before, both alone and with Mara, and I know I’m close. I only hope I’m not too late.

It’s not that I don’t want her to go out. She should if she wants to, and I hope that with time, we’ll find a way for her to do it safely. But I don’t even know what time it is—it might still be night, for all I know. This far north, the nights are longer, especially in the winter. And she hasn’t been outside in years, so she might not know that she needs to be careful. The thought of her wandering out all on her own…

The corridor spits me out into the entrance hall, and I call out, “Mara?”

Then I notice that one wing of the front door is open, and a cloaked figure is standing on the threshold, looking out.

She glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes wide. “Owen! I didn’t expect you so soon.”

I run the rest of the way, stopping right in front of her. I pull her into my arms, unable to stop myself. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

“Aye, I left you a note,” she mumbles against my shirt. “It said?—”

“I know, I found it.” I take her shoulders and hold her at arm’s length. “You scared me.”

Her eyebrows climb up. “I did? But— oh .” She palms my cheek and strokes her thumb over my skin. “You remembered my story?”

I don’t want to bring up her bad memories, but my mind did go straight to the tale of her childhood. “Ah, yes.”

“I’m so sorry.” She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me. “I had the idea to come here and practice, and I didn’t have the heart to disturb you. You looked so peaceful.”

“Next time, please wake me. I want to be here for you—even if it’s only practice.” I glance from her to the open front door. “What kind of practice did you have in mind?”

Mara bites her lip and shuffles a step away from me. Only now do I notice that she’s wearing her wool cloak and sturdy boots, different from the slippers she wore last night.

“I thought I could start by peeking outside at least,” she admits. “Usually, I try to avoid even that. It fills me with dread.”

I take her hand—but don’t draw her back toward the threshold. This has to be her decision. “All right. Tell me if I can help. Otherwise, I’m here to peek outside with you. Every day, if you want it.”

Mara swallows thickly, then nods. “I told the guards just in case. And signed myself into the logbook.”

Off to the side, I notice the two guards stationed there, both younger orcs. They’re both trying to look alert, but at this early hour of the evening, they’re content to sit on a bench, sipping from their mugs of tea.

“Good thinking,” I tell Mara.

She gives my hand a tug. “Come on, then.”

We walk forward slowly—and stop just in front of the wooden slat on the floor marking the threshold of the Black Bear Hill. The door stands ajar, one side only, the other still closed against the cold. I peer outside. It’s so early, the sky is still mostly black, and with the clouds covering the stars, the blackness is impenetrable, apart from the square of light spilling from the doorway.

“This is as far as I’ve come in years,” Mara whispers.

I squeeze her fingers. “You’re doing so well. Is this too much for you?”

She looks up and shakes her head. “No.”

We stand there for long minutes, and the sky lightens to a dull gray. Mara gradually relaxes beside me, her breathing evening out. I don’t move, not wanting to break this moment.

Finally, she draws in a deep inhale. “I want to at least poke my toes over the threshold. I know it’s only a foot farther than we are now, but it feels symbolic.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell her. “This is your first day of practice.”

She purses her lips. “Aye. But I want to ride outside with you someday. Perhaps even visit your family.”

My love for her spreads through me, filling me up. She’s so brave, so determined in the face of her fears.

“We can work up to that,” I rasp. “You have months to build up your resistance. Years, even.”

But she hesitates, tilting her head to the side. “If this was your problem, how would you approach it?”

It is my problem—because it concerns her. But I don’t want her to think I see it as a burden, so I keep my mouth shut and consider her question instead. Anything too extreme would frighten her even worse and put us back in the same spot, but maybe…

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

She turns her gaze up, her dark eyes shining. “Aye. You know I do.”

“All right. If I promise I will only take you so far as to put your toes over the line, will you let me try something?”

Mara hesitates, then nods.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

She stares at me, then lowers her eyelids. Her long, dark eyelashes come to rest on her cheeks. Her breaths quicken, her chest rising and falling.

I step in front of her and take her hands. “I will hold you for the entire time. I won’t let you go. And you can hold me as tightly as you’d like.”

Mara grips my hands and gives me the tiniest of nods. I act quickly, not wanting her to change her mind. I take a half step backward, leading her.

“Keep your eyes closed. I’ve got you,” I instruct. “My feet are now over the threshold. You’re so close. Here we go…”

I draw her out with me and stop the moment both her feet have crossed to the outside. Above us, the great door to the Black Bear Hill looms in the darkness, the iron reinforcing it white with frost. But it’s the woman standing in front of it that holds my attention.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

I lower my lips to hers, checking for any sign of distress. Mara’s breaths are shallow and quick, but she’s not panicking yet, so I kiss her quickly and touch my tongue to hers when she opens her mouth for me. Then I lift my head and nudge her gently backward, into the shadow of the door and over the threshold.

“You can open your eyes now.”

She blinks up at me, her lips parted. “Was I really…? Did you…?”

“You stepped outside, Mara.” I kiss her again, more deeply this time. “You did it.”

Her eyes well with tears, and she throws herself in my arms, shivering and laughing breathlessly. When she calms, I draw away from her.

“You told me that you disliked the outdoors because nothing good has ever happened to you out there,” I remind her. “Now, it has. And I will be here every day to help you multiply those experiences, all right?”

She sniffs and nods. “Aye, that sounds good.”

“Nothing I do will ever erase what you went through,” I murmur. “I know that.”

Mara goes up on her tiptoes. “But it will help. Every little thing will help, I know it.”

We walk together to the guards’ bench, and Mara crosses out her name in the ledger, her eyes shining with pride.

Then she takes my hand and tugs me deeper into the Hill. “Come on. I think this calls for cake.”