spoke as Orrade found a slice of lamb roast and lifted it to his mouth.
'I'll sleep in here tonight,' Garzik announced. 'Orrie won't want his sister waiting on him.'
Elina smiled, then leant over the bed to brush her lips on Orrade's forehead. 'I'll be in first thing tomorrow.'
He nodded, feeling for the right end of the knife to cut the cheese. Byren found it painful to watch. He should have thought ahead and chopped it up. Not that Orrade would thank him for that.
'Sleep well, Orrie.' Byren opened the door for Elina and walked out into the hall with her. 'Where are the upstairs servants?'
'The old ones are asleep in the attics.' Elina's dark eyes twinkled, reflecting the candlelight. 'They snore so badly we do without their services in our bed chambers. As for the young ones...' Colour crept up her cheeks. 'Father has been laying down the law, saying who can marry who, that sort of thing. Why would they stay when they know they can work for wealthy merchant families who won't interfere with their lives and pay them twice as much?'
'It's the same everywhere,' Byren agreed. Though they didn't have those problems at Rolenhold because of his mother's tact. He opened the door to Elina's bedchamber. She slipped inside. It was cold and dark. He didn't want to leave her alone like this. 'I'll make up the fire for you.'
'Thank you.' She went to light the candle on the mantelpiece.
Her gasp surprised him and he looked up in time to see her suck her knuckle.
Springing to his feet, Byren caught her hand, turning it to the light. 'You're hurt?'
'It's nothing. A hot wax burn. Oh, Byren!' She bit back a sob.
He reached out to console her but she surprised him, running to the door, closing it so that no one would hear her cry. Resting her forehead on the door, she sobbed silently.
Byren couldn't stand it. He came up behind her, taking her shoulders in his hands, feeling her slender frame shake. She turned in his arms. Murmuring her name, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He kissed her forehead, her closed lids, her wet cheeks.
And suddenly she was kissing him.
He didn't know how it happened but her skin felt so hot and her lips tasted salty. She strained against him, desperate for comfort.
From a great distance, one small part of his mind said, Stop. This is not right. She doesn't want you. She wants to blot out the pain.
He wanted to ignore it, but... gulping a breath, he lifted his head, forcing himself to pull back. She came after him.
He stepped aside and pulled the door open.
She stared at him, unable to understand, lips swollen with his kisses, eye lashes matted with tears.
He knew if he stayed one moment longer he was lost and he didn't want to make love with her in pain and desperation. Unable to speak, he stepped out into the hall, swinging the door closed behind him.
In the cold dark he dragged in ragged breaths, then felt his way along to the door of the chamber he and Lence always shared when they came to stay. Only a patch of starlight lit the nearest bed. He stumbled to it and threw himself on the covers. He could still smell her on his skin. His body ached for her. He'd never sleep.
He woke the next morning wondering why he felt terrible.
Then it all came back to him and, still dressed in the clothes of last night, he splashed water on his face then stepped into the familiar corridor where he had spent so many happy times as a child. His boots squeaked on the polished floor. The stained-glass window at the far end sent streamers of coloured light up the hallway. Lovely. But in case of attack they'd have to retreat to the stronghold where he, Lence and Orrade had played at being warriors with Elina running after them wanting to join in. How they used to tease her.
He smiled. They had all dreamed of being great heroes. Not much chance of that now, not with the alliance plans his father had set in motion.
Yet... those grim, silent raiders troubled him. The spar warlords