Chapter 50: Evelry

Chapter

Fifty

EVELRY

I jolt awake and thrash against the bed as memories suffocate me. Rough hands gripping me. Bruising me. Destroying me. Ale-soaked breath kissing me. Taking from me what was never his to take. Crushing the joy out of me, the happiness.

I whimper, and Cenric shifts closer to me, his hand settling against my arm.

"You're all right," he says, his voice low and soothing.

I turn enough to catch sight of Cenric still sitting in the chair next to my bed. "You stayed."

"I told you I would," he says in that same soothing voice. It does something to me—crushes those walls that Doran made me build last night.

I swallow through the grit in my throat. "You didn't have to stay all night."

Torchlight casts shadows across Cenric's features, deepening the worry lines around his eyes. "I wanted to. "

His gaze roams over my face, lingering on each bruise and cut. I resist the urge to turn away, to hide the evidence of last night's attack.

"You should rest today, Everly. Stay in bed. I'll have Morwen bring you food."

"I'm not a fragile flower. I'm not broken." I push myself up, ignoring the protest of sore muscles. "Just a little bent."

He doesn't move, doesn't speak.

Determined to be strong, I lift my chin. "I won't hide away. I won't let him win."

Something flashes across Cenric's face. Pride? Admiration? "You're stubborn, you know that?"

Mother has said those words to me many times. "So, I've been told."

"I've been thinking, and I've decided to keep you near me," he says, his voice firm yet laced with an undercurrent of something gentler. "This way, I can make sure that Alvina and Hawke can't use you."

"Near you?" I croak out.

Cenric nods.

Being close to him is everything I've ever wanted, but the constant proximity will make it more difficult to hide my feelings for him.

"But..." I start, then trail off, uncertainty choking my words.

"But what, Everly?"

I fidget with the edge of my blanket. "What about my duties with Morwen? And..." I hesitate, lowering my voice, as if saying it aloud would make it more real. "What about Hawke? If I'm not gathering information for him... "

A muscle jumps in Cenric's jaw. "Let me worry about Hawke. Your safety is my priority now."

"And the others? Won't they talk if I'm suddenly by your side all the time?"

Cenric shrugs. "Let them talk. I'm their commander. I don't answer to gossip."

My mind races. "What about at night?"

"I'll sleep in here with you."

Cenric is going to sleep in the same tent with me?

"But won't people object to you sharing a tent with me?"

"I don't give a damn what people think."

I blink, trying to process his words as my thoughts race, conjuring images of us sharing a tent. It's simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

"But I'm an outsider," I blurt out. "You can't share a tent with me. People will talk. Rumors—"

Cenric cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Right now, quelling the rebellion takes precedence over everything else."

Everything else. Including propriety, apparently. And my sanity.

I open my mouth to argue further, but the words die on my tongue. What can I say? Sorry, Cenric, I can't share a tent with you because I might spontaneously combust?

Instead, I settle for a weak, "But—"

"—no buts," Cenric interrupts again.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to center myself. This is fine. Totally fine. I'll just be sharing space with the man I've been in love with for summers. The man who thinks I'm a spy. The man who kissed me senseless a few nights ago and stuck a finger inside me.

Damn. Why haven't I thought about that much? Probably because if I allowed myself to think about it, I'd end up wanting him again, burning again, longing again.

Too late.

I squeeze my thighs together and glance up at Cenric, who's watching me with an unreadable expression. "Fine," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "But if you snore, I'm kicking you out."

A flicker of surprise crosses his face, quickly replaced by his usual stoic mask. "I don't snore."

"We'll see about that."