Chapter 43: Everly

Chapter

Forty-Three

EVERLY

I wake slowly, and as consciousness seeps in, the memories of last night flood my mind.

Cenric kissed me again. Well, he did far more than kiss me.

Of course, he had to go and put a stop to things before they got too heated. Part of me wants to roll my eyes at his restraint, but another part—a larger part—admires him for it.

Still, I wonder what might have happened if he hadn't pulled away.

I roll onto my side, hugging my pillow close as I relive every moment. The smoothness of his hair between my fingers, the slight stubble on his jaw that scratched deliciously against my skin.

I sit up and run a hand through my curls. My lips still tingle. My body still burns with an unfulfilled need.

A burst of cold air slams into me as the tent flap rips open with such force I'm surprised it doesn't tear. Cenric barges in, his face a storm of fury I've never seen before. My heart leaps into my throat, and I shriek, scrambling backward on the bed.

He stalks toward me, his eyes daggers of ice as he thrusts a piece of parchment at me. "Care to explain this?"

I blink, trying to focus on the words swimming before my eyes. My brain refuses to cooperate.

"I... I don't…" I stammer, my wit deserting me when I need it most.

Where is my sarcasm now? Probably hiding under the bed, along with my dignity and common sense.

Cenric steps closer. "You're working for Hawke."

The accusation hits me like a punch to the gut. My mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.

"I can explain," I finally manage to squeak out.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," Cenric says, his voice dripping with sarcasm that puts my own to shame. "I'm all ears, Everly. Please, tell me how you're not a spy sent to infiltrate my camp."

My mind races, searching for the right words. How do I explain that I was forced into this? That Hawke threatened my family? That every moment I've spent here, every interaction with Cenric, has been genuine?

I take a deep breath, ready to spill everything, but Cenric cuts me off with a raised hand.

"Save it," he says. "I've heard enough lies to last a lifetime."

I scramble off the bed, nearly tripping over my feet in my haste to get to Cenric. My mind races, trying to piece together a coherent explanation while simultaneously cursing my rotten luck.

Of course, this would happen right after we'd shared such an intimate moment. The gods clearly have a twisted sense of humor.

"Cenric, please," I plead, reaching for his arm. He jerks away, as if my hands are made from shards of glass. "It's not what you think."

He scoffs and rolls those impossibly blue eyes. "Oh, really? Because I think you're a lying, manipulative spy who's been playing me for a fool this entire time."

Well, when he puts it that way, it does sound bad.

I wince and search for the right words. "All right, so it's partially what you think. But there's more to it."

"More lies?" he sneers.

Exasperated, I throw my hands up. "Would you shut up and listen? Yes, I'm technically spying for Hawke, but it's not by choice."

Cenric's scowl deepens.

Great job, Everly.

Antagonizing the angry, muscular man who could snap you like a twig.

Brilliant strategy.

Cenric's eyebrow arches skeptically. "Not by choice? Did he hold a knife to your throat?"

"No, worse." My chest tightens as I force the words. "He threatened my family."

For a moment, something flickers in Cenric's eyes—doubt, maybe even concern—but it's quickly replaced by that icy fury again. "Am I supposed to believe that?"

Frustrated, I throw up my hands and sigh. "Believe it or don't, but it's the truth. What was I supposed to do? Let him hurt my family? Let him kill that poor woman he is holding captive?"

Cenric's jaw clenches. "So noble of you, sacrificing the safety of an entire camp for a stranger."

"Don't you dare take the moral high ground with me," I snap back, my anger finally bubbling to the surface. "You have no idea what it's like to be powerless, to have everything you love held over your head like a guillotine."

Part of me wants to slap him. Another part wants to kiss him senseless. My brain unhelpfully suggests doing both at the same time.

Cenric's anger deflates slightly, but the tension in his jaw tells me he's far from convinced. I want to reach out and touch him, but I'm pretty sure that would only end with me losing a hand.

"I know how this looks. But everything between us—" I gesture to him, then me, hoping he understands I mean our kisses, our conversations, the way my heart does backflips whenever he's near "—that was real. Is real."

He scoffs again, and I resist the impulse to stomp my foot.

"If I were really some master spy…" Exasperation creeps into my tone as I continue, "…don't you think I'd have come up with a better cover story than a clumsy woman who falls in mud puddles?"

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile, then his expression hardens again. "Maybe that's exactly what a clever spy would do."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, because nothing says brilliant spy like public humiliation. "

Cenric runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes him look unfairly attractive for someone accusing me of treachery. "Even if what you're saying is true—"

"—it is," I interject.

"Even if it's true," he continues, as if I didn't speak, "how am I supposed to trust you now? How do I know you're not still feeding information to Hawke?"

The pain in his voice cuts through me like a knife. I want nothing more than to throw my arms around him, to promise him that he can trust me, that I'd never betray him, but I know that's not enough. Not anymore.

"You don't," I admit softly. "I guess you'll have to decide if you believe me or not."

Cenric's eyes search mine, and for a moment, I let myself hope. Then, he shakes his head, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Everly, but I can't take that risk."

As he turns to leave, I have a wild urge to tackle him to the ground and refuse to let him go until he believes me. But considering he's about twice my size and trained in combat, I'd probably end up embarrassing myself. Again.

Instead, I watch him walk away, taking my heart with him.