True North [True North series book 1/3]

It took us the longest time to make it back to the wing of the palace that housed the bed chambers, and Myrtha looked to be on the verge of death by exhaustion once we did.

“Here,” I said, taking her into the room that had been assigned to me. I helped her onto the bed.

“You shouldn’t do this,” Myrtha protested, “this is no place for a human like me.”

“Nonsense,” I countered, “this room has been assigned to a human, and a human will stay here. It makes no difference. Besides, you’re more Ardanian than human, you’ve been here all of your life. Stop seeing yourself as a second-class citizen.”

Myrtha sighed, and brushed the fabric of the sheets with her twisted fingers.

“I suppose it is a nice way to spend my last night alive,” she said, half-jokingly.

I bit my lip.

“I am so sorry,” Myrtha said, looking up at me.

She looked so frail, her tiny, curved frame, sitting on the edge of that large bed. “I wish I knew how to help you. Maybe I can use my dying wish to—”

“Myrtha, it’s okay,” I said again, “this is not your fault. Even if you had been able to do it, the gateway might not have led me back to my village. I might have died on my way back — there’s no guarantee any of it would have worked.”

I sighed, and walked to the window. I looked at the battlefield outside the palace.

“It’s my last night alive too,” I whispered, “just hope my brothers know how much I loved them.”

Myrtha let out a small whimper. “I am sure they do,” she said, “you emit love like a fire emits heat. I am sure they felt your love every day of their lives. I am sure they still do.”

I squeezed my eyes tightly, trying futilely to keep the tears at bay.

The painful lump in my throat returned, and I took a deep breath before turning around. I noticed a new stack of garments on the corner of the bed.

“I assume these are for me,” I mumbled as I took them into my arms.

“Get some rest, Myrtha. We have a big day tomorrow.” I turned around and swiftly left the chambers before she could protest.

Out in the empty hallway, I crouched down and let the tears flow. My shoulders shook with quiet sobs as I wrapped my arms around my knees, clutching hem to my chest.

My heart broke inside my chest as images of Toph and Nys came to my mind. I doubled over in agony as I pictured their hurt and confusion as to why I hadn’t come back. I imagined the nights without me — Nys trying his best to care for Tophyn the way I always had — trying to remember which tincture and ointment to use at what time, Tophyn asking him over and over when I’d return.

I cried silently, gasping for air every few sobs, feeling as if I was drowning in sorrow. I didn’t even look up as two large hands wrapped around my upper arms, pulling me to my feet.

I half-expected it to be Warrian, but I crashed into Thoridor’s hard, leather-coated chest as he held me. And although Warrian had held my body last night as I slept, Thoridor was holding onto my very soul.

I leaned my forehead against his pecks, breathing in the scent of his leather coat as I wept. I wiped the tears from my eyes using my middle fingers, and looked up at him.

“Come,” he simply said, but the hostility had left his voice. He walked a few steps, and turned to look at me.

“Come,” he said again, more pressing this time, and continued walking down the hallway. I hesitantly followed him until we ended up in front of a heavy, wooden door.

Thoridor pushed it open, and paused in the doorway.

“Sleep here,” he said, and although it sounded like an order, I felt he hadn’t meant it as one.

“You can take the bed,” he continued, “I won’t make you sleep on the floor this time.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “Okay,” I then said. The word had tumbled from my lips before I could stop myself. I stepped around him and entered his chambers, clutching the stack of garments to my chest.

Thoridor’s room looked a lot like the one I had used before, much to my surprise. The bed was larger, and the fabrics used seemed more luxurious, but the layout was very much like mine.

“I will have guards posted out here all night,” Thoridor said, “you can go to them should you find yourself in need of anything. I’ll be just a few doors down.”

“You’re not staying?” I asked, and cursed myself immediately.

“No,” Thoridor replied, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion, “I assumed you would not want me to.”

“Of course,” I replied too quickly, “of course not. Indeed, I do not.”

“Right,” Thoridor said, turning on his heels. I looked down at the garments in my arms.

“Oh, Sire?” I asked, my cheeks slowly turning scarlet. “I might need a hand… with the… laces, and all.” I turned to show him the back of my dress.

“Ah,” Thoridor rasped, his eyes gliding down my back, “I see.” He stepped closer, and reached out his hand.

My breath hitched in my throat. “I meant… a servant, perhaps?”

Thoridor’s arm slackened, hitting the side of his leg as it fell. “Of course,” he said, and he turned again.

“You can do it,” I whispered, cursing my blabby lips, “it would be quicker.”

Thoridor’s eyes burned into mine as he turned back to face me. “It would,” he agreed, and remained frozen in place.

I hesitantly stepped closer to him, turning again.

“It’s just laces,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him.

“Yes,” Thoridor agreed, as his gloved fingers reached for them and tugged them loose. “Just laces.”