Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(97)

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he demands. My eyes are heavy, but I succeed in rolling them.

*

A tickling on my cheek draws me from the depths of sleep. I convince my eyes to open and look with blurry eyes into Jovan’s chest. I’ve studied the smooth firmness enough times to recognize it immediately. I tilt my head back and peek into his eyes. The expression there warms me from the inside out.

He rolls away to get water. This time I keep it down. The same expression is still there once I’m done. He returns to bed and tucks me into his side once more. Jovan licks his lips as he draws his fingers over my skin. My cheeks, my nose, my eyes. My shoulders relax back.

“What happened?” I ask.

His gaze darkens. “There was another soldier. Malir said you fought fifteen, but there were sixteen of them, one scouting the castle. You were stabbed in the back.”

“I let my guard down,” I say, annoyed by my lapse.

“You’d fought several skilled fighters, and from several accounts, climbed up a tapestry in the food hall. You were exhausted,” he says simply. “The man is dead. Killed by your brother.”

I half sit up. “Is Landon okay?”

“He is.” Jovan pushes me back down. “Rhone, Sanjay, and Ice were all injured, but will live.”

Tears prickle the corners of my eyes. My brother. My friends. They’re safe.

Jovan strokes my hair back. “I … need to tell you something.”

I smile half-heartedly at him, too relaxed by his movements.

“When Shard came to report your injury,” he starts. I watch as his eyes dim. “I’ve never been struck through with a weapon, as you have, but I think I felt the same pain as Shard spoke.” He looks away. “His words brought me to my knees.”

“The battle was over. The Solati gone,” he adds, resting his head on the cushion behind him. “I left Roscoe in charge and ran through the night to get to you.”

I want to know more about the battle, but I’m reluctant to interrupt. His arm underneath my head curls around my shoulder, drawing me to him more tightly. My wound twitches, but I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m in pain. Not when he’s looking at me like that.

“You were still alive,” he breathes, eyes shining. His words begin to rush.

“They told me you didn’t have long. The sword went all the way through.” He clenches his jaw. “You’re small, but you lay there on the bed, so tiny and breakable. The blankets looked like they could have crushed you. I thought you were dead at first. Everyone seems to die. And I didn’t dare to hope when you lived to the next day, and the next after that; unmoving, but somehow still breathing.” Tears drip over my face to soak into Jovan’s tunic. He rolls towards me to kiss them away with gentle lips. “I didn’t hope yesterday, I don’t dare to hope now.”

“I was furious with myself,” he says softly against my temple. I pull back to study him.

“I told you—,” I start.

“It’s not that,” he interjects. “I should have trusted my instincts and kept you by my side. Not because I doubt you,” he says quickly. “Something was wrong. A part of me knew your mother and uncle would try to harm you. What if I’d forced you to stay at the castle? The women and children would be dead … you would be dead.”

“But that isn’t why I’ve hated myself.” He moves right in front of me so I have no choice but to look into his eyes. Something churns in my stomach at his concentrated resolve.

He runs his thumb along the side of my chin. “I waited too long to tell you. I’ve known how I feel for a long time. Perhaps even when Rhone came to inform me of your decision to learn the sleds.” He frowns. “Of course, I didn’t recognize it immediately. And then denied it until I was told you’d escaped the castle. Then I thought it was too late.”

I shake my head. “Jovan, what are you—”

“I love you.”

I freeze, fixing the king of Glacium with an unblinking stare. “W-what?”

“You were struggling to come to terms with your feelings for me. And I didn’t know what you still felt for Kedrick. You have no idea how that’s tormented me—being jealous of my brother. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

I close my mouth as I realize he’s rambling. He snaps his mouth shut.

“You hated yourself because you loved me and didn’t tell me?” I ask, not daring to rejoice just yet. He slowly dips his head.

Warmth spreads through me. Something indescribable and joyful. It doesn’t matter that I can barely lift a finger because I am lit from the inside. It’s liquid courage. Better than any brew I’ve tasted. He has bared himself to me. I recall the final moments before I lost consciousness and clear my throat painfully.

“The blood was leaving my body, but there wasn’t any pain. I knew then that I was dying. I had no control over what I was thinking. I remember my brothers were there in my thoughts, among others.” I look just below his eyes, then force myself to look straight at him. It’s almost painful to do so. He’s here, right in front of me. With everything that’s happened, I still somehow feel like the luckiest person alive.

“But I remember my last thought was regret. That I would never see you and would never touch you again,” I say. I run my fingers through his shoulder-length hair. How many times have I wanted to do this? Why did I waste so much time? “That you would never know what I felt … I’ve never experienced such despair.”