Verath the Red (Dragonwall Series #3)

Chapter 26 - Late Night Confessions

Brezen

Claire opened her eyes, blinking into the darkness. Her ears pricked at the sound of hushed voices, probably what had awoken her. A faint glow came from beyond the canvas separation wall. She listened, unable to hear what was being said.

In the cot beside hers, Tamara gave a gentle snore.

She adjusted her blankets and flopped over, trying to find a comfortable position. Her shoulders ached. What she would give for her feathered bed back in the capital right now! She flopped again and sighed. It was no use—nothing was comfortable.

She sat up, pulling away her blankets. Tamara gave another gentle snore but carried on sleeping. The ground was cold beneath her bare feet. She moved silently through their small shared space and slipped past the canvas wall.

Only a few candles lit the main room of the tent. At the table, Talon and Bedelth sat across from each other, speaking in hushed voices. They fell silent, spotting her.

She froze.

"Good evening, Lady Claire." Bedelth darted to his feet.

"I—" Her gaze landed on a water pitcher on the table. "Just getting some water. Please don't stand on my account, Bedelth." She grabbed an overturned cup from the stack and began pouring.

"No matter. I needed fresh air anyway," Bedelth said, slipping away. She was about to protest but the tent's flaps fell back into place, leaving her very much alone with Talon. She replaced the pitcher and took a sip.

"Come, sit." Talon pulled out the chair beside him.

"I...I was just—"

"—going to drink that standing there awkwardly?"

"Right."

After a long pause, she sat down beside him, very aware that she was wearing nothing more than a spare nightgown. She made a show of drinking her water before setting the empty cup on the table.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that. You?"

He hesitated. "Something like that..."

A silence stretched out between them, leaving her overly mindful of his close proximity, of his eyes on her. She gazed at her cup as if it might turn into a teapot, trying to think of something to say. Each time she opened her mouth, the words didn't seem right.

When she turned to him, she caught him looking at her. Candlelight flickered over his face, throwing shadows and highlights across his scars. Her chest heaved at the sight. It wasn't pity necessarily. Or maybe it was? But he wouldn't want that, her pity. She did feel sorry for him, especially after seeing how handsome he had once been, after knowing all that he had done for his kingdom, after seeing how much he cared about Dragonwall.

"You're frowning at me. If my presence bothers you, I can go."

"No!" She jolted forward. "I mean...It's not that."

"But it is something?" She blinked, unsure if she should say anything. "Will you tell me?"

"I..." She shifted to better face him. "It just bothers me, I suppose. The others."

"I am not sure I follow."

"The others from earlier. How they treated you. They couldn't bear to look at you. They avoided you even though they stood in the same tent as you. Even though you're their king. It's...rude. Disrespectful, even. It made me..."

"Made you what?" He didn't so much as blink.

She sighed. "It made me frustrated...and angry."

"Oh." Something in his face changed, softening the stark lines. "I had not realized that would upset you. My scars are my own curse to bear, not yours."