Thread of Frost

Ch. 32: Can't Escape It

"You're being difficult," Anna said.

His mouth quirked. "I'm always difficult."

"I think they'll ally with us." Anna turned for the sideboard. "Zarob."

Ryne raised an eyebrow. "I should bloody well hope so. I didn't swim in pool of acidic bubblegum for the fun of it. Cidarius." The bench creaked. "Look at me."

Anna set the salve down. A pulse beat in her throat, and her knuckles were white on the pot. "What?"

Ryne's gaze was thoughtful. "You're angry."

"I'm not angry," Anna said.

He smiled. "Liar."

"This is so messed up," Anna said. "You see that, don't you?"

The pulse was spreading, running through her veins like hot wildfire. Ryne waited, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a marble statue in the moonlight, all hard planes and chiselled jawline. It only infuriated her more.

"We hate each other," Anna said.

"No," Ryne said calmly. "We don't."

"How can you even—?" She broke off, turning to the window. "I infiltrated your castle. I poisoned you."

"I found that endearing," Ryne said.

"You locked me in a tower for months."

He shrugged. "That was for your protection."

"You're married."

Ryne lifted an eyebrow. "Is that a serious objection?" She didn't say anything, and he raised his hands. "I'm not married. Never said the words. Anyway, I'm technically dead. I'm fairly certain that nullifies a marriage."

A sharp pain twisted her chest. "Don't."

"What?"

"This isn't funny," Anna said.

"It's a bit funny."

Her voice was tight. "Your father slaughtered by family. He killed Rourke."

Any amusement faded from his face. Ryne's eyes were hard emeralds, and his towel shifted as he leaned forward. She wished she hadn't noticed. "I'm not my father."

Anna pinched her nose. "There's one throne, and there's two of us. You don't have to be brilliant at maths to see the issue." She dropped her hand. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you're willing to give it up. Say that you're willing to have a nightweaver queen on the throne."

A muscle flickered in his jaw. "You know I can't do that."

"Exactly."

"But I still want you," Ryne said.

Anna exhaled. "This is ridiculous."

Ryne spread his palms on his thighs. "Do you think it makes sense to me? Do you think I'm enjoying this? I've spent my whole life hating the idea of you." His eyes were hooded. "I still spend most days trying to hate you. Trust me."

"It'll get easier," Anna said. "The feelings will fade."

His mouth tightened. "They won't."

"They will."

"They won't." Ryne's green eyes blazed. "You want to know what those pools smelled like? You want to know what I couldn't stay away from?"

"Delafort—"

"You." His breathing was ragged. "They smelled like you, Cidarius. Your body. Your hair. I can't get the godsdamn scent off my sheets. Everywhere I go, that bloody scent follows me. I can't escape it."