Page 54 of Ashborne Forged

It wasn’t until we were almost back at the hut, that he caught my hand and pulled me to a halt. I turned, stomach fluttering, expecting a kiss, only to find his eyes shadowed and wary—intent on me.

The bubbly joy drained through me like water through a sieve and I went still.

“What is it?”

“We need to talk about going back to the Keep tomorrow.” His jaw tightened. He had both hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down—to comfort me, or himself?

That sick feeling that I’d been battling for weeks, that had faded over these lovely days alone, surged back. I knew that look. He was about to tell me something he knew I didn’t want to hear. And when men looked like that, it was usually—

“We need to have a plan for returning. To the squad and the other men,” he said firmly, as if the words hurt him to say.

He must have stopped shrouding himself, because he was suddenly there in my chest—a tumult of feelings, including fear. The fear that had been his constant shadow before, but not over these days.

I hated that fear.

I folded my arms. “You still want to hide this from them.” It wasn’t a question. But it was an arrow to my heart. He’d been so attentive, so enthralled, I’d thought… well, it didn’t matter what I’d thought. Clearly, I’d been dreaming a child’s dreams again.

He nodded.

I sighed. “Why?”

“Because, to do otherwise will put a target on my back, and on yours,” he said quietly. A hint of apology in his tone. “I’m not saying forever, Grace. But days, definitely. Maybe weeks. The thought of flying back in and just announcing this when the bond is still so new, and we’re still finding our way…” He let go of me to claw a hand through his hair, but his eyes never left mine.

I could feel him in the bond—he ached. Whatever he imagined in his mind, it made him tighten in fear. And that simmer of anger, the fury in him that hadn’t made an appearance since he acknowledged the bond, returned.

“I don’t like to lie,” I said bluntly.

He nodded. “Neither do I, but sometimes it’s necessary—for safety.”

I didn’t doubt that. Even I knew there were times and places when lying was entirely appropriate—especially for the safety of others, or to protect important information.

But a relationship? I couldn’t detect shame in him. Didn’t feel anything but delight and need when he looked at me. Yet, I couldn’t help wondering, was he just better at obscuring the bond? He’d taught me the basics, the way to close the door on the bond—with our dragons, or each other. Neither of us had used it beyond the games. And he was definitely better at it than me.

Was it possible he’d been hiding his true feelings from me all along?

“No, Grace. Hear me. This is my fear. Nothing to do with you. It wouldn’t matter who I’d been mated to. This is about me and my brothers, not you.”

I frowned. “They seem to really love you, though,” I said, because it was true. I’d had enough time to watch how the group regarded each other. To measure the hierarchy. The others might step carefully with him, especially when he was angry. But they also followed him. They watched him, and took their cues from his assessment. He didn’t have Gil’s rank, but it seemed as if he was every bit as admired. In some cases, perhaps more. I hadn’t understood that until I put it in terms of the Court. There were nobles whose titles were lower than others—yet they were greatly liked, or admired. They were often treated with more favor than their titles demanded. I believed it was the same here. “If you tell them, if you ask them not to tease—”

“They won’t listen,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“And if I asked them?”

“They’ll treat you with respect. Of that I have no doubt. That’s not the problem. I’m afraid of my response to them. It is our way to press each other. To challenge. It makes us stronger, and strengthens our bonds when we fight for what’s important to us. But this is too tender, Grace. I can’t make light of this. If the roles were reversed with one of my brothers, I’d be respectful to you, but I wouldn’t let up on a brother who thought he could simply draw a line and tell me I was beyond reach of his taunts. They won’t respect my need for that, first of all. And then, they’ll use it to punish me.” He stepped closer, his gaze dark and intense. “Sometimes when the bond grips me, I move without even thinking. Remember when you threw that knife because your instinct was that I was in danger?”

I nodded, and felt sick.

He nodded as well. “I’m genuinely afraid there’s a chance I’d do the same—or something like that. To one of my brothers. I could never forgive myself.”

I blew out a breath. That did seem plausible. “But you love them, as well. Surely that would make you think?”

“Not as much as I need you,” he said baldly. And it was so strange how those words simultaneously lit me up inside, and dropped my heart to my toes.

Voski squeezed my arms. “Grace, I’m just asking for time. I don’t want to hide you. I just want to find my feet with you, before I have to face them.”

Something about this didn’t feel right. But he felt honest. The bond hummed with his conflicting tensions—not wanting to hurt me, while he also feared this.

“How?” I asked quietly, because even though this hurt. I wouldn’t force him to publicly admit his feelings for me. “How do you propose we manage this?”