Barracks (War of Hearts)

50- Of Hearts

The night wraps around me, a silken shroud of anticipation and uncertainty. Sleep eludes me, fueled by an idea that both exhilarates and terrifies. It's a key—an invitation to unlock myriad secrets, to traverse realms beyond imagination. But it also promises pain, and I'm caught in its magnetic pull, suspended between longing and fear.

And then, as if conjured by my inner turmoil, his voice slices through the darkness: "I knew you would not sleep tonight."

Startled, I sit up. I hadn't sensed his presence. "When did you get in?" I ask, my pulse quickening.

"Just now," he replies, his eyes inscrutable.

"Oh." My gaze flits between the door and him. I push aside the quilt, clutching the robe around me as I approach him. "I am nervous," I admit.

He studies me, the corners of his mouth quirking. "Why?"

"Because once I'm free to go," I say, "you won't need me anymore."

His hand disappears into his pocket, his stance unwavering. "Why would I not need you? I can concoct countless excuses to delay your departure or persuade you to stay."

A smile tugs at my lips. "I'll believe it if you say it like that."

"How?" His voice lowers, intimate.

"Like you actually want me to stay." I glance away, searching for words. "But eventually, I'll have to return home. I don't want you to feel obligated to keep me safe."

"Home?" His gaze sharpens.

"Yes, why?" I grapple with the concept of home. He's made it clear that our connection is transient, that he wants nothing serious.

"When?" His question hangs heavy, a verdict.

My heart plummets. He won't ask me to stay. Yet, if he did, I'd defy reason.

"I'm not sure," I murmur. "Soon, perhaps."

"Soon?" His eyes bore into mine.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you remember when I warned you not to fall for me?"

Thud. My pulse echoes in my ears. "You didn't, right?"

I hesitate, then admit, "No. We established that."

"Then why didn't you choose Xavier?"

His inquiry blindsides me. "It's past midnight," I deflect, my heart fracturing. "Let's discuss it another time."

"No," he insists. "Now is the right time."

"I need to rest." I sit on the edge of the bed, his silhouette looming beside me. The room cloaks us in darkness, but his face remains clear.

"Alright," he says softly. "I didn't choose him because I can't give him what he wants."

And in that charged moment, I realize that perhaps I've been denying myself, too. 

"Hmm." His pensive gaze hovers over me, close enough that I can feel his breath against my skin. I swallow hard, captivated by his striking features. What was once a strictly platonic connection now simmers with an unfamiliar tension.

"Then you're okay if I do this..." His lips, cool against mine, linger for a tantalizing moment.

"We've kissed before, but it feels like ages. I just needed to be sure our feelings haven't shifted."

His proximity ignites a fire within me, a passion that refuses to be contained. Maybe this is all I'll ever have from him, and for now, it's enough. My hand finds its way to the back of his neck as I respond eagerly, "That's not a problem for me."

As he settles onto the bed, maneuvering me on top, his touch sends shivers down my spine. His lips, cool and expert, trail along my jawline, drawing out a moan that I hastily stifle. But he catches it, exchanging my hand for his own as it explores every inch of my body, leaving me breathless and craving more.

In this dangerous dance, I find myself surrendering to him, losing myself in the pleasure he offers. With each kiss, he transports me to new realms of ecstasy, and I cling to the sensation, letting it guide me through the whirlwind of desire.

As we finally part, panting and spent, I can't help but giggle, curling up beside him. But beneath the surface, uncertainty gnaws at me. How did I let myself fall so deeply into this tangled web of emotions? And now, with my feelings spiraling out of control, I fear I may have lost all semblance of agency.

"How soon will you leave?" His voice cuts through the haze of desire, forcing me to confront the reality of my impending departure.

I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his scent as if trying to memorize it. "I'm not sure yet. But if I can't get a grip on things soon, I might have to leave sooner than expected. I don't know where I'll go, but I need to start making plans. It's time for me to embark on this adventure, even if I have to do it alone."

His fingers trace soothing circles on my back, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

"I want you to train me," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, a hint of resignation in his tone. "So you're serious about leaving?"

I nod, my fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

"No one is chasing you."

Yet. "It's not your place to say. The council will expect me to leave. How long will it take me to become proficient at archery?"

"Archery? Two months, less if you really commit."

Two months? I need to leave before then. "How about a month?"

"Six weeks if you want to be deadly. It takes courage."

I know. Being complicit in Lavyrle's death doesn't weigh as heavy as taking a life myself.

"Okay. But I'm serious. I have to be able to defend myself if I want to survive."
"But you'll have guards," he protests, his voice tinged with concern.

I shake my head, determined. I'm not going to argue about something that isn't going to happen. I snuggle closer, feeling myself drifting into unconsciousness. "I can't rely on others to keep me safe. I need to be able to protect myself."

He sighs, relenting to my resolve. "Fine. I'll train you. But it won't be easy."

I meet his gaze, determination shining in my eyes. "I'm ready for whatever it takes."