Chapter 55: Cenric

Chapter

Fifty-Five

CENRIC

Snow drifts lazily from the sky, coating the world in a white blanket. I sit on a log, watching the flakes settle on my boots and melt against the warmth of the fire crackling before me.

Everly plops down beside me with a bowl of steaming porridge cradled in her hands. She blows on it, sending wisps of steam curling into the air. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, a rosy hue that makes her look even more beautiful than usual.

I think about last night, how right it felt to hold her close. The warmth of her body against mine, the softness of her hair tickling my chin.

As we eat, Rosa approaches with those two little girls. She settles on a nearby log, helping the girls balance their bowls on their laps. The younger one giggles as snowflakes land on her nose.

The sound pierces through me, reminding me of a time long past. A time when Rosa took me and Praxis outside to play in the snow.

It was rare. Usually, she spent all her time in her bedchamber. But that day, she had spent time with us.

Everly shifts beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as her eyes dart between Rosa and me. She doesn't speak, but I sense her curiosity, her concern. It takes everything in me not to meet her gaze, to maintain this facade of indifference.

The older girl jumps up, spreads her arms wide, and spins. Her laughter rings out, pure and joyous, as she twirls faster and faster.

"Look at me," she calls out. "I'm dancing in the snow."

The girl's blonde hair fans out behind her, dotted with white flakes. Her cheeks flush with excitement. Her eyes sparkle with wonder.

Everly grins as she watches her.

The younger girl toddles after her sister, arms outstretched as she tries to gather snowflakes in her hands. She stumbles, and her older sister catches her.

"Careful, Helena," the older sister warns. "Or you'll trip."

"I not." The younger one shakes her head fiercely.

I stand, carry my bowl to the cart, and stack it onto the other dirty ones. Everly follows me and places her bowl atop mine. Concern emanates from her, but I can't bring myself to speak to her.

Instead, I turn on my heel and stride toward my command tent. The tent flap rustles behind me as Everly follows me inside.

I move to sit at the table, but she doesn't follow me. She stands at the entrance, watching me, her eyes far too keen.

Her voice breaks the silence. "Was that your mother?"

I pause, my hand hovering over a scroll. "Yes."

"Are they your sisters? They look like your mother."

"Yes."

When Everly speaks next, her words are careful, measured. "I'm sure you're angry at your mother, understandably so, but that doesn't mean you have to be angry at those two little girls."

She's right, of course. Those girls are innocent. They didn't ask to be born, didn't choose their mother—just like I didn't.

I hold out my hand to Everly. "Come here."

She lifts a brow. "Why?"

"Just come here."

She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. Then, she takes a step forward, then another. I reach out, grasping her waist, and tug her onto my lap. She gasps, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing against me.

"What am I going to do with you?" I ask.

Everly shivers and curls her fingers into the fabric of my surcoat. "What do you want to do to me?"

I want to kiss her until we're both breathless. And I want to run my hands over every inch of her body.

But I shouldn't.

Yet, with her in my lap, it's hard to remember why I shouldn't. My hands tighten on her waist, pulling her closer. She fits against me perfectly, as if she were made to be here.