The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter twenty-two ✣

I wrote this chapter out, had most of it edited several days ago, and then my computer crashed, and I lost all my work. So, I had to rewrite the whole thing.

Sir Lorcan's POV

"Where is she?" Lady Eora cried. "Where have they taken her?"

"I don't know!" I shouted back.

"Love, you ought to calm down. You don't want to make the baby anxious," Lord Eavan advised his distressed wife. Then he addressed me, "I find it difficult to believe that you have no information."

I willed myself not to tear the hair from my scalp. "As I already explained, the King has refused to divulge any details of their whereabouts."

For the past half hour, Eora and Eavan had been interrogating me about where Princess Ayan had disappeared to. King Renyld had snuck her out of the castle and decided not to tell anyone where or why.

"You were one of the last few people to see them," Eavan countered. His ruddy cheeks and narrowed eyes were becoming awfully annoying, but I could tell that his animosity towards me was grounded in something deeper—his hatred of my character. After all, I was Prince Flynd's favorite friend. And there was also the affair I'd had with his wife...sometimes I couldn't tell which one angered him more.

Eora had also been glaring at me but once she turned to her husband, her gaze softened. "Perhaps it has to do with Sir Declan? I heard that he threatened the Princess' life."

"Is this true, Lorcan?" Eavan asked me.

As I was about to respond, I noticed a figure making its way down the hall. A woman. With curly brown hair I could notice from a mile away—and a deep-seated hatred for my entire existence. Just like everyone else in this damned castle. Her eyes flickered over me, but she made no visible acknowledgment. She didn't care. She knew my nature, my past—how could she trust me?

And yet, all I could remember was the astonished look of admiration she'd given me when we'd first met. The smile of her face. No one had looked at me as if they enjoyed my company in a long time.

It was a feeling I wouldn't soon forget. And it was one I wanted back.

Blanyr's POV

Of course, he was here. Of course, he had to be the nobleman I came across on my way to the maid's quarters. No, it couldn't be Lord Padraig who asked me to lift my skirt every time he saw me. Nor could it be Lugh, the page who had once smiled at me like I was a meal and not a person.

It had to be him.

He was in the midst of a heated conversation with two other noblepeople but as soon as he recognized me, he seemed to ignore them. "I apologize, Eora. Eavan. But I must be going."

I looked away violently, hoping he hadn't excused himself to talk to me. Unfortunately, my wishes weren't granted. As I passed the trio, he rushed to my side. "Blanyr."

I felt my skin burn, wondering what the noblepeople would think of a knight like Sir Lorcan talking so openly with a lady-in-waiting. "Please, get away from me," I hissed.

"I listened to your rant. Now you ought to listen to mine."

"I'm supposed to be free of men. Whatever we were going to do was wrong. And, you aren't exactly well-reputed."

His face hardened. "What you did was wrong. You shouldn't miss meetings with people without explanation."

"What I did, was logical."

"Blanyr," He began in a pleading voice that alarmed me. "We should try again. From the beginning. As if none of this ever happened."

"Now that I know your true nature, I'm not keen on doing that. What happened to your disdain for me?"

His face fell, and he did not speak. Why was he acting so serious? It reminded me of when I'd first met Count Ros. Father had come to the parlor while I was reading a book and said, "You'll be marrying him now."

We both knew who he meant. The courtship had been going on for a while. I had hoped it would die and Count Ros would find someone else, but Father was persistent. He constantly bragged about my attributes, including my wide hips that were "perfect for childbirth."

Count Ros never smiled. Not really. Even when he opened his mouth and bared his perfectly white teeth, you could tell it was a façade. His soul was too dark to feel true joy unless it came at the expense of others. Just like my father.

His previous wife had died after a horrific miscarriage. The entire situation had been strange, and after accompanying the man on numerous outings, I knew it was no accident.

I didn't care for fake personalities much. Not after spending my childhood being raised by two. And I certainly wouldn't stand it from Sir Lorcan—no matter how I'd felt about him before. "Stop pursuing me. I will not tolerate this any longer."

"Bla—"

"I will not."

His pleading look turned more downcast, but I didn't care. I was done with him. As he began to walk away, I felt a sudden finality. I would never be seeing Sir Lorcan again. I was free.

Just like when so long ago, under complete darkness, I had stood outside my family's home and wondered whether I was making the right decision. It was only when I remembered Count Ros' sadistic smile that I knew it was not only the right decision—but the only one.

...

Ayan's POV

"I can't share a room with you," I whispered.

Not yet.

Flynd bit his lip, his eyes gazing at me in deep thought. I hoped he wasn't offended, especially at this point. But even more so, I hoped he wasn't surprised.

"I understand," He said eventually, breaking the curtain of silence that had seemed to hang over us. "You'll be in the room across from me, right?"

I nodded. "Of course."

He sent a half-hearted smile in my direction that made me feel a little better about the situation. He and I were going to be at this countryside manor for a long time. We would have to get along if we wanted to make the most of our stay.

King Renyld hadn't told us where we would be hiding. Simply ordered our servants to pack a year's worth of items and expected us to obey.

The carriage ride to the manor had been uncomfortable, fraught with bumps and sudden halts when, according to the coachman, random animals scurried across the gravel path. But once we'd arrived, I was elated to see how tucked within nature we'd be. We were surrounded by lush hills, bird songs, and a crisp breeze that starkly contrasted the stuffy, grey skies of Witylt.

Now we had to determine our living arrangement. A fragment of me regretted what I'd told Flynd, but the rest was too fearful of what might have happened if I hadn't said it. He had been so kind to me lately, but did that entitle him to anything? I didn't think so, but my greater worry was my own feelings about our marriage.

I was trying not to give in to something. It was like I was holding my breath at every moment, wondering when I could exhale again. Like I used to breathe in Mereti. Carefree, energetic, filled with an excitement for life. Like the wind. Ayan.

Something had happened to me once I'd stepped foot onto Aranian soil, smelled the sea salt and storm in the air. A part of me had retreated, knowing it would never belong. And yet, every time I noticed Flynd stealing a glance or felt the warmth of his fingertips, that part of me thought it could come out. That I could let go. Be free, with him.

But that part of me—the Meretian part of me, the part of me Flynd seemed to admire—was the reason we were here in the first place. And I wasn't willing to let it fully resurface.

Not yet.