Forged and Forsaken [Nikolai Lantsov II]

~ Chapter Thirteen ~

I'm realizing that Tempest and Tide was - let's not get too far from the plot, let's not get too cheesy - but now in Forged and Forsaken I just drown you in the fluffy sappy stuff. Sorry.

It's not going away though.

ALSO - this is a short chapter. It was going to be longer but I haven't posted in forever so I wanted to get this out.

Without further ado, the chapter!  

The tension in the room is practically choking me. I can feel Mikhail trying to catch my eye from across the table, but I refuse. My face is still aflame as Nikolai's hand traces down my arm, his fingers twining through mine.

I trust Nikolai, with everything in my heart I trust him, but I do not understand what brought upon this change. What made him run.

What made him return.

He squeezes my hand and it's all I can do to stay silent, to not spin on him and demand answers.

Mikhail's voice slices through the room, "We do not need your assistant Ravkan. Why don't you just slip back across the true sea to the place where people actually appreciate you."

"Mikhail." I hiss in indignation.

"Rin, darling, the decision is yours. Do you wish for me to accompany you to the Wandering Isle?" Sturmhonds voice is low, daring Mikhail to interrupt again.

He doesn't, though he looks as though he wants to. His eyes are hard chips of coal as he stares at the Prince at my side.

I want desperately to keep this decision level, to exhibit the logic that would be prudent for the renegade I have made myself out to be. Twice now Nikolai has left without a word. Twice now he has betrayed my trust.

Perhaps if I were a more sensible girl this would be easy. If this was not the boy from the alley, the one with hair like sunlight that lifted me onto his shoulders so long ago, I would not be swayed.

Perhaps if Nikolai did not wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him, I could reject his help. But my mind freezes. I could have all the intelligence in the world but when it comes to him I am a fool.

I am always foolish.

He left me. Yet all there is, is the warmth of him, his heartbeat against my back. I want to turn into his chest, to let the soft tang of salt air that is baked into his skin overtake me. I crave him like an addict craves the drink. Even knowing the vice of it, knowing it will drown me, my every nerve burns to give in, to let him come. To go back to Ravka with him.

Always so foolish.

Trust me.

That's what he had asked with no explanation as always.

Trust me.

I can't. I shouldn't. I so want to.

There are so many reasons to doubt, so many reasons, but it always comes back to one. He wants to rule and I can not be the Queen at his side. Freedom does not come through a crown, through armies and laws. Not in Ravka, where I will always be a pawn in the Lantsov games. I do not want to be tied to that throne.

Perhaps it is too late, for I am tied to him.

Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.

I do. Saints, I shouldn't, but I do.

That's the problem. The truth of my fears runs deeper than him. We have branched apart, two limbs of a tree both reaching for the sun, separate as we climb. Returning to one another is an impossibility. Though that may be Nikolai's specialty, some gaps can not be crossed.

He should not come with us.

He should not.

"You should come." I whisper, "We need a ship, after all."

I need you, after all.

Even with all my denials, that truth can not be drown.

"Fantastic choice, darling."

I do not have to look back to see the smile on his face, I know it's there. His arms tighten around me, that slight touch sending me right back to the carriage in Caryeva. We remember that day far differently. Nikolai remembers only fear, only anger. My memories are far different.

For the first time, I truly understood who he was. That Prince was more than just a title, it was a wall between us. One that - for my own sake - I should stay far, far from. I understood the cruel lark that the Saints had played on me, making me feel anything more than a passing fealty toward my Prince.

I finally understood that he was never meant to be mine.

It's all I can think now, as his thumb brushes a small circle against my arm. The same fear I felt from him that day is washing over me now, bringing forth a long-abandoned part of me, one that I never dared to touch.

Whatever has happened, whatever his crew, of my Grisha, or the Saints themselves did last night that lead to his fear, it is of little consequence. I will not let either of us feel this way again. We will not be used against one another as the blades of our enemies. We are far too strong for that.

The world itself has told us we have no right to be with one another, but the world knows nothing of what I can do.

Because Nikolai Lantsov is mine.

And he will not be taken from me again.