Chapter 36 Restless
Chapter 36 Restless
“I get the feeling you don’t sleep much,” Aizurah commented as she sat down beside Warryk, nudging him over. The stony sand felt cool beneath her, and she inadvertently shifted toward the fire, trying to warm her legs.
“At home, when I’m under the furs or by the hearth, perhaps. Not out here, Princess,” he replied casually. “You were unable to rest, as well?”
She nodded, and quietness settled between them. The wind whipped her hair about, and Aizurah stared into the flames, hoping they would give her some sense of comfort. They didn’t. All she felt was worry about the upcoming battle.
“How long until dawn, do you think?” she asked softly, glancing up at the sky.
“A few hours, still, Princess,” Warryk answered with a warm smile of assurance. She wondered if the fleet would arrive by then, or if it would be closer to midday before they anchored.
The logs continued to burn, and Aizurah watched as the fire cracked and tiny sparks drifted out into the wind…
Zeidan rolled over in the cot, his hand outstretched, unconsciously reaching for Aizurah. When his hand gripped only furs where she should have been, he blinked in sleepy confusion and raised his head.
A sense of panic seized him as he realized she was no longer in their tent at all. The prince tugged his shirt and boots on in an instant, snatched up his blade from beside the bedpost, and strode from the tent.
The thick sand crunched underfoot as he weaved through the tents, his eyes scanning the camp.
Surely, she’s fine… There are hundreds of men here… A thought that should have comforted him made his gut twist, for he knew better than most the depravity some men were capable of. Even his own soldiers were no different. His pace quickened as he glanced about, searching for any sign of the princess.
“Aizurah!” he called her name as he strode toward the flames at the center of the camp.
Then, there she was, slumped on the ground beside the fire, breathing steadily as she dozed, her head resting against the shoulder of the soldier they’d eaten with the day before.
Thank the gods… His shoulders sagged with relief as he sat down on one of the logs, rubbing his face in exasperation.
“She’s been here for nearly two hours, by my guess, my prince.” Warryk offered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Fell asleep just a short while ago. I thought it best not to wake her.”
Zeidan nodded but couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, he continued to watch his beloved sleep, a soft snore occasionally accompanying the crackle of the flames. When his back began to ache from the position, he scooped Aizurah up from the ground and carried her back to their tent.
“Zeidan…” she muttered his name and shifted toward him as he placed her back in the cot. His chest squeezed as he pushed the loose hair from her face, watching her expression change in her sleep.
Her eyebrows knitted together, as though something worrying passed through her dreams. As he knelt to remove her shoes, a pang of guilt hit him. Zeidan thought of all that he had put his poor niece through. He loved her with his entirety, and yet she still deserved better…
Aizurah had lost so much simply because she’d chosen him over another. She missed out on a proper wedding, years with her father, and a life of stability at court. She had endured the loss of their child alone, a thought that haunted him on even their brightest days.
He gripped the edge of the cot as he recalled the repeated looks of heartbreak she had given him each time he returned from the Fire Hills, reeking of oils and perfumes. She thought the worst of him, and he had let her; he had let them all believe he was an adulterer, when he hadn’t been with anyone but her. But Zeidan had decided long ago that the worse someone thought of him, the less likely they were to be disappointed with his next mistake. He’d been born a bastard; the kingdom would judge him for that alone, as if he’d had any kind of choice in the matter.
When he removed her second boot, Aizurah shifted again, rolling over and reaching for the empty side of the cot—his side. His name fell from her lips again, so clear he thought he woke her. But she mumbled dreamily and settled a moment later.
Zeidan shook his head as if the motion would clear the solemn thoughts and reached to tug off his boots once more. Aizurah’s body was warm when he climbed beneath the furs, and he wrapped his arms around her, comforted by the sound of her steady breathing. The Princess pressed her face to his chest and mumbled indiscernibly as Zeidan placed a kiss on her forehead. For the remainder of the night, the Prince did not find sleep…