Chapter 25: 25_Frenemies

With a harsh exhale, he moved in her direction, firmly ignoring Gunnar who stood near his tent, calmly watching him. Thoran couldn’t talk to him right now, not with last night on his mind. If Gunnar got a whiff of what happened last night, Thoran wouldn’t hear the end of it and, quite frankly, he would rather die than have Gunn making unending jests at his expense.

Amethyst and Harald didn’t notice Thoran approaching until Frank, bringing back a bowl of soup, greeted him.

The two turned in unison. Harald’s face lit up, Amie’s darkened.

“Morning, Steel!” said Harald.

Her greeting was a blank stare.

“How are you, Harry?” Thoran asked, although his eyes were glued to her.

She stared back indifferently and then turned her attention to Harald who was explaining how he’d drank too much last night.

“That reminds me, don’t you have a headache?” Harald asked Amie.

She sighed miserably. “An awful one.”

“She can’t even remember last night,” Frank added with a laugh, placing the bowl on Amie’s lap.

The news jolted Thoran’s brain. “You don’t remember last night?”

Pausing with her wooden spoon over the soup, she glanced back at him. “Well… no, not clearly. I do remember our talk, if that’s what you’re wondering!”

His eyes narrowed on her determined expression. “What talk?”

She looked worried. “You can’t go back on your word. Our talk about me staying and the fight you promised me!”

Slowly, the tension seeped out of his muscles. Oh. Great. She didn’t remember the kiss.

She was staring up at him, eagerly waiting for his response.

Without a word, Thoran tossed the clothes he was holding at her and she hurriedly caught them. “Clothes. Wear them after you bathe.”

She blinked. “Bathe? Where on earth will I bathe in the…” He was already walking away. “Middle of the forest…” She sighed.

“Right, I’ll go for a bath,” said Harald, standing up to stretch.

Amie looked frustrated. “But where? I didn’t notice any shower stalls nearby.”

Frowning, she watched the men emerge from the training area behind the camp, making their way into the forest as they conversed and laughed amongst themselves. Jonno and the man he’d fought last night were arm in arm, laughing the loudest.

“There are rivers,” Frank offered, placing a thick chunk of bread on the side of her bowl. “We bathe in the rivers.”

Amethyst went blank. Mouth hanging open, she gaped at Frank.

He winced. “Aye, must be a little odd for you, right? You’re just a gal, can’t be right bathing in the open.”

“Oh, but it’s fun!” Harald said. “Everyone washes each other’s back and we sing together, it’s the best.”

Slowly, she turned to direct her blank expression at him. “In… a river?”

“Yup!”

“In the open?”

“Yup!”

Amie looked dazedly down at her soup. Gripped by the horror of openly bathing in a river with whatever creatures dwelt in it, she started to rethink the importance of her kingdom’s safety.

“I want to go home, please,” she said politely.

Harald burst out laughing and Frank smiled apologetically. “I understand, miss. We should ask Gunn and Ivar to find a different place for you to bathe.”

Harald scoffed. “I don’t think Ivar would. Maybe Gunnar.”

With renewed hope, she brightened. “Really? Gunnar would find me a private bath?”

Frank nodded. “Right. Gunnar’s quite kind-hearted.” She visibly relaxed and he chuckled. “Finish your soup and your bread, miss, and we’ll go on to reason wiv Gunnar.”

Eagerly, she nodded and let him take the clothes so she could eat.

***********

Milana rose far later than the sun, considering the time she’d gone to sleep. The moment her sleep faded, she was aware of it. The gaping emptiness where his presence should’ve been.

When she opened her eyes and looked around the empty room, she got her confirmation. Cyrus wasn’t there. Clutching the covers against her naked body, she sat against the tall headboard and drew her knees up to her chest for a moment of recollection.

Last night was clear in her mind, every memory full of pleasure and abandon. As her searching gaze found no trace of him in the room, she couldn’t help but wonder whether the pleasure had been hers alone. She swallowed hard, failing to ignore the painful twinge in her heart.

It was ridiculous, she was far too grown to be pining after a man just because he’d left after their night of wild sex. Of course, she could take into consideration the fact that it had never happened to her before and, secondly, that Cyrus was, in fact, the only man she’d ever fallen in love with. Enough to want his arms around her when she woke up. All valid reasons for her to pine.

The flurry of thoughts flooded her mind and Milana silenced them all to stop at the only one that mattered to her.

Why had he left?

There was a knock at the door.

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up with a blatantly hopeful expression. “Yes? Who is it?!” There was no answer and hope bloomed in her chest. After a desperate search for clothes, she got dressed and hurried to the door whilst she tied the belt of her gown.

Wrenching open the door, she raised her gaze and immediately stopped. Her expression shifted into one of confusion as she stared up at the man before her. “What… are you doing here?”

Eroz gave her an awkward smile. “Good morning. Cyrus had me come to help you continue the search for Amethyst.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “And where is Cyrus himself?”

Humming, he glanced at his watch. “He should be back in Zaire by now.”

Her eyes widened, filling with a combination of disbelief and shock at what he’d said. Surely not. Cyrus couldn’t have. “He went home?!”

She couldn’t believe it.

All throughout her bath, Milana tried to convince herself that maybe there was a valid reason. He couldn’t have meant to make her feel as worthless as she did at his departure. Surely, he’d had some pressing matter to attend to that had left him with no choice but to leave her in this inn in the middle of bloody nowhere by herself.

Lies. They were all lies.

As she smeared oils onto her skin, she realized that they were all lies she was telling herself to stop the tidal wave of tears pricking at her eyes.

It was her own fault. Cyrus had always been most gracious and considerate toward her, but it had always been polite. Why had she chosen to fall for his good manners, she didn’t know. Unable to take the maddening intensity of her feelings, she’d foolishly and cheaply seduced him.

Of course, under the pushy temptation she’d presented and the dizzying effect of the wine they’d both drank, he’d sputtered all those words that had given her silly butterflies last night.

A tear made it out of her eye and she quickly wiped it away, her expression as clear and cold as priceless porcelain. With grace and elegance, she took care of her morning routine, stoic enough to conceal the raging emotions that were flaring up within her.

Painful regret ripped her insides apart and made her wish she’d kept her damned desires to herself. She’d even gone as far as confessing her darkest secrets—

With a groan, she sunk onto the bed, burying her face in her hands as her composure shattered. Why had she told him about the fantasies she’d had of him?! About the private things she’d done in the secrecy of her bed. Fool! That’s what she was!

Wrenching up her head, she dragged in a huge breath and tried to calm herself. It was done, she couldn’t change it. She couldn’t escape it either unless she drove a stake through her own heart.

Jittery, she hurried back to her dresser and started frantically pinning up her hair. None of it mattered, she would simply pretend that none of it had happened. Her hands trembled and the clip slipped, letting a thick lock of hair unravel and tumble back down into her mass of hair. With a furious mutter, she snapped the poor clip in two.

It fell to the floor and she shut her eyes, trying to steady her shuddering breath. Oh, God, what would she do?

With a whimper, she crossed her arms on the dresser and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. She’d had sex with Cyrus. Oh, king of Gadon and gods of Zaire, she was doomed.

Her lashes were damp with tears that she fought to hold in. Why had he left? Had he hated it? Or her? What about everything he’d said about wanting her and not wanting to taint her?

A broken scoff parted her lips. He’d been drunk, that much was obvious. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but she’d been pushy about it. She should’ve let him leave, he hadn’t wanted to stay. Remorse flooded her heart, the dampness on her lashes turning into salty drops that fell to the dresser beneath.

He must’ve felt horrible when he woke up. Must’ve loathed her for it all, realizing that she’d used him for her own selfish and dirty desires.

Even if his words last night had been genuine, which they couldn’t be, he’d now seen the truth.

He'd left her.

And that was exactly what she deserved.