UNMARKED

25: Hawk and Prey

"I'm nervous." Blayre confessed, taking a sip from the mug of hot tea she held.

Blayre and Rory sat companionably in his study - though he'd wanted to continue to visit her room in the dormitories, she had insisted that this week he needed to stay where it was safer. There were too many strange people wandering around the palace grounds and she wanted him where the guards were already in place to protect him.

And if she was being honest, after that first night that he had visited her room, she wasn't sure if she could fully trust herself to have her guard up around him at all anymore. And that was dangerous. She could not allow him to put himself at risk, especially when he felt a false sense of security around her.

"And why might you be nervous, lass?" He inquired, not lifting his eyes from the book he was reading. "Nothing has happened."

After the events of coronation day, all either of them wanted to do was sit and relax. Blayre had melded herself into one of the comfortable red armchairs in Rory's study. The soft leather cradled her as she curled up in the chair, hugging her knees to her chest, a steaming mug of tea on the end table beside the chair.

"Exactly." Blayre retorted dryly. "Nothing has happened, despite a very public threat."

"Perhaps that is all it was - a threat." Rory's voice was steady and gentle. Blayre looked up to see that he was watching her.

"You need to be more pessimistic." She chided, but looking at him, she couldn't help but break out in a grin.

They stared at each other silently for a moment and then Blayre looked away, heat rising from her core. The platonic conditions of the current state of their relationship was far too difficult, especially when he looked at her like that. When his eyes had gone all soft and dreamy, and she knew that if she reached out and touched him, he might lose all autonomy and be hers to command.

"You'll dance with me tomorrow, won't you?" He asked.

She had lifted the cup of tea partway to her lips but her hand froze at the inquiry.

"I - it wouldn't be -"

"Blayre," His eyes narrowed and his voice pleaded. "We will be surrounded by people, nothing will happen. But I don't want to miss out on an opportunity that I may never have again." He reached across the space between their chairs as if he was about to touch her but she flinched away.

"I don't know ... maybe. It's late. I - I need to go." She began to scramble from her chair, brushing the remnants of the crumb cake she had recently enjoyed, from her pants.

"Blayre, don't..."

She almost buckled under that gaze, and that pleading look that flickered in the soft glow of the mage lights, turning his eyes more green than blue. Almost.

Deep breaths, Blumore. She had had to use that technique too often lately.

It pained her to know she was hurting him. But she had to pull herself away, and push him further. She couldn't let that door open again, not right now. It was the only way to keep him safe.

"I can't, I have to go. I will see you tomorrow though." She added, to sound less harsh. "Remember," She said more quietly, "This was your choice, not mine." She had been ready to let go of everything. To throw caution to the wind for him. And he had been honorable.

It appeared that he was regretting it now. But that had been before the rebel's threat on parade day. As she brushed past Ripley and the guards, and entered into the hallway she considered that the threat had been a harsh reminder that the safety of the royal family was nothing more than a mirage.