12. Twelve

Twelve

I awoke with a blistering headache. Reaching my hand to the left side of the bed, I searched for Taft as the argument we had crept back into my mind, intensifying the throbbing between my ears.

Shit. This was going to be a fun day.

I turned onto my side, rubbing my eyes and blinking them open, expecting to see sunlight but they were met with the soft glow of night. The sun was still quietly sleeping as the moon made its way across the sky, pouring its light through the large glass wall across from me.

What time was it?

My eyes flowed around the beautiful room. The glass wall gave a stunning view of the lush forest below. The tree limbs reached up and intertwined with the floors where soft carpets of moss spread out across the wood, inviting my bare feet to sink into its warm embrace. In one corner, a crackling fire cast dancing shadows and flickers of light throughout the space.

I sat up and looked around, my eyes scanning the room for Landers and taking in the serenity of the space. I spotted him asleep in a chair tucked between the fireplace and the glass wall and smiled to myself, it was the perfect place to watch the sun rise.

Slipping my legs over the bed, my toes curled into the soft moss carpeting. It was cool and damp, yet oddly comforting. I pulled at the blanket on the bed, sliding it over the jade sheets and wrapping it around my shoulders as a shiver crept up my body. A waterfall of curls fell down around my face as I stood. Tucking the loose strands behind my ears, I walked to the chair opposite of where he slept.

Sitting with a quiet slowness, I watched as his chest rose and fell in steady rhythm with his deep breaths. His olive skin had a warm glow that only seemed to intensify in the flickering firelight. A beautiful tattoo adorned his chest, extending down his side, beneath the sleeping trousers he wore—the only article of clothing covering his otherwise bare body. I had never seen so many muscles on a person, his lean body looked as if it had been molded by the Gods itself. His right arm was covered in black ink from his wrist to his shoulder and scaled up the side of his neck. It rested gently against the chair, while his left sat against the muscled grooves of his abdomen.

My heart ached as I traced my gaze over his body, so many scars marked his skin. The cuts and burns looked like they had never seen a healer, or they had gotten to him too late. My fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch him, touch every place where someone, something had hurt him. But I resisted, balling my fingers into a fist as a heavy sigh escaped my lips.

This man had been fighting battles, while I was comfortably sheltered from the truth of the world.

My eyes trailed back to his face and stared as his short tousled black hair fell gently onto his brow. Even in sleep, his beauty was unlike anything I had ever seen. My back straightened as his jaw feathered and his thick raven lashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” I said cautiously, holding the blanket up to my mouth. He sprang from his chair, pulling a dagger from some hidden place and pounced on me. He pressed its sharp steel tip to my lungs as he panted.

“It’s just me,” I breathed with wide eyes.

“Never sneak up on a man who is sleeping. I could have killed you,” he scolded, dragging a hand through his cropped mane as he lowered his knife. His eyes raced over where its tip had been, searching for a wound.

“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” I said, lifting a brow as I slid my fingers over my neck. He sat back in his chair, tucking the knife casually into his waistband with a wry smile.

“Don’t tempt me, Hyacinth.” He let out a deep breath as his eyes fell the length of my body before meeting my gaze again. “Why are you awake at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Headache.”

He stiffened in the chair, as if he had just now realized he was half-naked in front of me, every scar and muscle on full display. His fingers gripped onto the armrests and his muscles tensed.

I let my gaze slip to his stomach and linger there before pulling it back up to his face. The muscle in his jaw feathered, and my throat bobbed as I met his eyes. My lips parted slightly, taking in a shallow breath as he stirred in the seat across from me, keeping his verdant eyes locked on mine. I slammed my mouth into a hard line, breaking eye contact as I felt warmth creeping into my cheeks. He said nothing as his eyes slid over me in the silence.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I whispered, pulling my knees into my chest. “I’m sorry you had to see me in that state.” Shame and embarrassment engulfed me as I tightened the blanket around my shoulders and I kept my eyes averted from his.

“Drunk, you mean?” He chuckled as I willed myself to look at him. There was no disgust in his eyes; no judgment of how I had behaved.

“Didn’t I—” I cringed. “Smell you?" He was laughing now, the sound of it like music gliding through the air.

“Twice, actually.” He grinned and I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

“Oh, Gods. I’m so sorry,” I muttered, pressing my face into my hands.

“Why?” he asked, stretching his legs toward me and crossing his ankles. Putting even more muscles on display for me to gawk at.

“I was a mess,” I scoffed at myself. Taft was right to laugh in my face. I had been a disaster. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” My voice quieted and I focused my eyes on the threads woven into the blanket that had fallen from my shoulders.

“You are hardly the first woman I have seen drunk.” He shrugged. “Your inhibitions may have been lowered due to the drink, but you did not do anything wrong.”

I let one leg slip down from my chest, the bottom of my foot hitting the cold wood. “Sorry I forced you to sleep in a chair in your own room.” I glanced over at the deep green sheets strewn about the bed.

“You apologize a lot,” he remarked, rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry.” I rolled my eyes cursing myself, but he just smiled softly as his eyes studied me.

“Why is that?” he asked, leaning on his left elbow and resting his chin casually into the palm of his hand. I laughed nervously, avoiding the gaze I could feel resting on me.

“I don’t know; habit I guess.” I set my chin on my knee, glancing up to see his eyes still on me.

“You lack confidence,” he stated matter-of-factly, like there wasn’t a slight possibility the words might hurt when they landed.

“You don’t know me,” I snapped.

“I may not know you, Hyacinth” —Gods, the way he said my name— “But I do see the way you let your mate speak to you, and the way your friends speak up for you because they know you will not speak up for yourself.” The nerve of this man. Who did he think he was? He barely knew me.

“For your information, Taft is not my mate, and I do speak up for myself. I did last night, which is why I am sitting here with you, and in hindsight I can see it was a stupid fucking idea.” I stood, throwing the blanket onto the chair and folding my arms.

He looked up at me, completely unbothered. “Yes, but when the drink does not run through your veins, what then?”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” I hissed, pacing back and forth in front of him.

He clicked his tongue. “Such a vulgar mouth you have.” His low chuckle caressed his throat at his remark. He knew his words were only riling me. I should leave, there was no reason I should stay here with him talking to me like this. He had no idea who I was—what I was capable of.

“What is causing you to get so upset?” he asked with that calm arrogance, linking his hands behind his head.

“Because y-you . . .” I stuttered.

I was going to slap that smirk off his face.

“Because you know I am right?” he crooned and I turned to face him, scowling into his beautiful eyes.

Some small part of me knew he was right. No, some large part of me knew he was. But I wasn’t going to admit that to him . I was working on it. I had been working on it for years. I wasn’t born with the kind of confidence Ata had, and I had learned quickly at the academy, with Taft, talking back had consequences I didn’t want to pay.

“Sit down, Hyacinth.” His voice was commanding, yet still soft.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I barked, pleased that I obviously had no issue talking back to him. He chuckled, propping his head between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sit down, please .” He dragged out the word, placing emphasis on it as he smiled up at me. I scoffed, pacing a few more steps in defiance before I sunk back into the chair, my chest tight and heavy with my own self-disgust.

I was pathetic. I had absolutely no spine anywhere in my body. I closed my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts and find a way to calm my nerves. When I opened them again, Landers was still lounging casually, his eyes sparkling, filled with some kind of unnerving amusement.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I huffed, my anger briefly overshadowing my embarrassment. He grinned, tilting his head back and showing off more of his sharp jawline.

“Not really, but watching you squirm is amusing.”

I rolled my eyes in his direction. “You know, you could just leave me alone instead of . . . this.” I gestured vaguely, my hand waving around the room. “Why do you even care?”

“Because I think there is more to you than you let on, Hyacinth.” His voice took on a serious tone. “And I do not like seeing women being treated so poorly.”

I snorted. “Says the man who told me I looked like shit the first chance he got.”

He chuckled and crossed an ankle over his knee. “I never said you weren’t beautiful, I said you looked like shit, which you did.” A corner of his mouth tilted upward. “Most of us tend to look like that after battle.” Sarcasm coated his words as he winked at me, so I glared right back at him and leaned into my chair.

I stayed silent for a long moment before quietly asking, “Is there going to be a war?”

“There is a very high chance that the attack on your academy will cause one. The question is, will it stay contained to Redelvtum? The Silliands and Ammord will not stop until they find this child,” Landers said, dragging a hand over his face. “And no realm will willingly let the power The Stories say they have, slip from their grasp.”

I nodded, staring into the purring flames beside us before I pulled my eyes away and looked up at him. “Can we trust you? If using my magic has really put a target on my back, what is

stopping you from turning me in? From turning my friends in for helping me?”

“I am a Traveler, Hyacinth. I have seen the way we are treated out of fear of what the leaders of the realms do not understand. I have seen the things they do to people like us and I do not wish that fate on anyone. You have my word, I will not betray you.” I didn’t know him, but as he said the words I knew I could trust them—knew he wasn’t lying.

A flash of light crashed through the glass in front of us, momentarily lighting the forest. I shot to my feet. That wasn’t lightning, there was no storm raging outside this house.

“What was that?” I asked, whipping my head to Landers with eyes wide. He rose slowly from his chair, his back straightening and his jaw flexing as he pulled the dagger from his waistband.

“That is the sound of shattering wards,” Landers said in low rumble. “Redelvtum’s gates have fallen.”

“No,” I said, horror lacing my words as I slowly turned my head back to the night dark forest before us. “How do you know? That’s not possible. We have to go back. We have to help them. We have to help Asrai.” The words rushed out of me in a frantic string. We had just been there. The attack had just happened. Redelvtum had stood tall for centuries without a single invasion. This didn’t make sense.

“We cannot go back, Hyacinth,” Landers said, taking a step toward me. “Asrai is the greatest warrior these realms have ever seen, and she will not give up her home without a fight. I made a promise to her to get you and your friends to Locdragoon and I will not break it.”

“Fuck your promise. You have to take me back, I will go myself if you won’t take me,” I spat at him. He closed the distance between us, our chests almost touching as a low, throaty growl escaped his chest.

“I am a man of my word, and if that means I have to chain you to my side until we reach Locdragoon I will do it. You are not leaving my sight.” His breath flowed through my lashes as a chill ran up my spine.

I raised my chin to meet his eyes. “I am not your prisoner,” I hissed.

“No, but you are my responsibility.” He said the words with a sharpness that made me recoil into myself. I took a step away from him, wrapping my arms around my middle. He strode over to a large armoire and grabbed a tunic from its shelves, pulling it over his head.

“I am going to check on the wards and incantation around the perimeter of the house. Do not get any heroic ideas,” he said as he strapped his sword to his side then tethered from the room.