Ashes to Stardust | Sihtric Kjartansson

Chapter 19: The Distracted Mind

Please leave feedback and comments and love below 🥰

-

I'd have considered myself blessed by the divine Gods if I'd gotten a wink of sleep. But it rarely found me throughout the night. Each time I closed my eyes and tossed, Sihtric's hands were on me, his teeth grazing my neck, he was moaning my name against my lips...

I didn't have nightmares either. I might've even embraced them if I had. At least that would've meant I'd be thinking about something–anything–other than my uncontrollable desire to have my shield tangled in between my sheets.

And when Cwen returned this morning to clear the tray of milk and bread and cheese from my bedside that she left last night to 'help with hangovers,' she made sure to point out the darkness under my eyes, the tousled hair that I had buried over and over into my pillow, hoping to smother myself instead of reaching my scarred fingers to that soft spot between my thighs.

"I can't believe you waited this long, honestly." Cwen perches herself on the side of my bed, one leg crossing over the other.

I groan and look sky-ward, flopping my head back against the headboard. The knot between my shoulders has me rolling my neck, searching for relief. But this is impossible. It didn't take much effort for Cwen to pry an admission out of me, including a brief nondescript background of mine and Sihtric's journey together to date. I would've told her almost anything to get her to stop asking me what happened last night, but had I known it would only spark more curiosity in the handmaiden, I would've said far less.

"I don't know what I was thinking," I say, crossing my legs on the bed. I could swear my hands burn today, reminiscent of the flames from years ago. Except they're not on fire, they're cruelly reminding me of the hard lines of Sihtric's body, his chiselled jaw, silken hair, punishing me for touching places I shouldn't.

"Was it good? It had to have been, I've heard that he knows exactly what he's doing–"

"It was just a kiss." Heat sings in my cheeks at the blatant lie. My brow furrows, mind running through the endless consequences of what I did last night. And if Aelwyn finds out...

Cwen tilts her head, studying me. "It doesn't look like it was just a kiss."

I throw a fluffed cushion at her and she giggles. "It means nothing." I grumble, toying with an errant curl of chestnut hair. I can only hope it means nothing. Perhaps by the Gods mercy, they have turned Sihtric's brain to mush and he has completely forgotten about last night.

Kissing you would be a huge mistake.

Then why did it feel so fucking good? Gods I need to think of something else. Anything else.

"What do you know of the Lord of Tettenhall?" I ask Cwen, hoping my tone sounds innocent enough.

The handmaiden rests back on her palms, a curious expression on her beautiful face. "He is old and he is sick. That is all."

"You work in this manor and know nothing else about the Lord other than what I already know?"

She narrows her eyes at me before speaking again. "Why are you asking me this?" Despite Cwen's youth, her eyes speak of a woman who is knowing and intelligent and the furrowing of her brow hints at something more.

When I had found sleep last night, I dreamt of Aelwyn's admission in the chamber with Sihtric. The truth that she was killing her own husband replayed over and over and over again, no remorse behind each word. I had seen the Lord of Tettenhall in my mind's eye, rotten and withered and wasting into nothing. Something about it settled into the pit of my stomach, and even as I woke up between bursts of sleep and ravished the food and drink Cwen left in an attempt to settle my nausea, it did not go.