"Loosen your shoulders." Rory touched the man before her in the center of his back, between his shoulder blades, "You'll get a better swing if you aren't tense." he didn't respond, but she felt his muscles relax and she moved on, stepping lightly among the dueling men. They were paired together and scattered around the training field, their stance and form being critiqued. The man hadn't spoken to her, but then again they rarely did. It was getting better, of course, as they each came to learn from experience that she really was better than they were; men seemed more likely to listen to you when they realized you could kill them. She wouldn't say they respected her, but at times they listened. She'd been at the castle for six weeks and didn't hope for it to get better.
"Leigh!" she heard her name whispered and turned to see Callum and Nick dueling several feet away from her. They beckoned her over, resting their swords at their sides. They wouldn't be noticed in the din of clanging metal and grunting men, not that anyone from the guard would have done anything since she was with them. "You missed it!" Callum groaned quietly and Rory knew that something extremely entertaining had taken place.
"Missed what?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Well now that you're all womanly and civilized and living in the castle–ehh" she elbowed him and he made a dying noise, grabbing his side, but grinned, "–you miss all the wonderful things that happen with the swine."
"What did I miss?"
"Did you see McKellin's black eye?"
"Oh!" she gasped, now excited, "Yes, I did. I was going to ask you about that."
"Okay." he smirked, leaning closer, "So yesterday me and Dorian were stretching after our workout and we heard him make a ahem–" he cleared his throat theatrically, "–lewd–comment about you that I wouldn't repeat in civilized conversation or ever even say about you." Rory felt her eyebrows arch on their own and she opened her mouth to ask if she really wanted to hear this, but he held up his hand, asking to continue, "That isn't the good part. So, Dorian and I looked at each other and made sure that we'd heard right, but of course we had. So we just kind of nodded at each other and then set off to dismember him, but before we'd gotten halfway to him Mark. Once again I say Mark, the behemoth who is always making grown men cry, wailed him in the face!"
Rory's eyes widened, "What?"
Callum nodded hugely, "Yes, I have never seen one of the guard actually hit the men, but Mark nailed him. I mean, I was in pain seeing it."
"What?" she asked again, still uncomprehending, "Why?"
Callum shook his head, "You could see that everyone around him was itching to do the same thing, but you know they have strict rules about us fighting each other." he sighed, glancing at her, "It was beautiful. He hit the ground and it took a minute for him to get back up. Seriously, Leigh, Mark didn't even come in from the side. It wasn't a weak shot. He came in full from the front and McKellin watched him do it. It was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in my life."
She shook her head, still unable to wrap her brain around it, "But why would he hit him for it?"
Nick shrugged, speaking finally, "Most of the men are taking what the king said seriously. It's been a few weeks since I've heard them really say anything about you. McKellin is just one of the idiots who isn't. The guard have been punishing anyone who says anything about you."
Rory nodded, but didn't say anything, sighing heavily as she turned, "Go ahead and practice some more." she said quietly, walking back through the men.
–-----
"You really don't have to do that, you know." Rory stilled, her hands hovering over the flour sack she'd been about to lift. The men were done for the day and had gone to have dinner. She had stayed after to put the weights back in their closet while the guard went to take the men to their food.
"I know, but I don't mind." she scooped the sack into her arms and stood from the crouch she'd been in, stepping towards the closet.
He watched her kick the door in and toss the flower in with the rest, "There are people to do that."
"I don't mind." she repeated, walking back to the stacks of weights to grab another. Tristan watched her, amused, as she lifted it. "Don't you have something to be doing?" she asked, unnerved as he didn't say anything else.
He shrugged, leaning back on his heels, "I was bored."
She carted the second sack to the closet, "And you came out here to work with sacks of flour?"
"Actually, I came to speak with Mark, but I see they've already gone in."
Rory tossed the flour into the closet and stopped, biting her lip uncertainly before turning to look at him. She was surprised, more than she should have been, to see that he was staring at her. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it, her shoulders relaxing, "Yes. They just went in a few minutes ago."
She stepped forward to grab another bag, walking slowly towards Tristan, but as she passed him his hand shot out, "Wait." She jumped lightly but his fingers were wrapped around her elbow in a burning vice before she could think or react, holding her in place. Her head snapped up and as it did she unwittingly locked gazes with him, her eyes wide. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Rory's arm warmed, tingling where his skin touched hers. The silence enveloped them like a blanket and she was suddenly very aware of his close proximity; of the heat radiating from his warm chest beneath his loose shirt. She could almost feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed evenly, coming closer to her and then farther away as they stood in stillness, neither of them moving.
Usually when he stared at her it was as if he were trying to figure her out, break some code that determined her actions. Not now. Now he was just watching her, his clear cerulean gaze penetrating her, seeing everything. Her body warmed next to his, the late September heat already had sweat glistening over her forehead and pooling in her back; now the temperature increased, the warmth washing in waves from his skin making the heat unbearable. Rory felt her face flush, her stomach clenching as she finally tore her gaze from his, looking down.
The heat between them broke and, almost as if the world around them had been holding its breath while their gazes locked, a breeze ruffled her hair, lifting it lightly around her as the world exhaled. "What?" she asked quietly.
Tristan glanced down at his hand wrapped around her elbow, flexing his fingers before releasing her slowly, as if coming out of a trance. "What were you going to say?"
She shook her head lightly, taking a step back, "Nothing."
"Yes, you were going to say something."
"No, I wasn't." she answered, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
"Go on." he insisted.
She bit her lip, taking a step back to find her bearings before she took the risk of looking back up at him, "What did you say to the men?"
He shook his head, uncertain of what she meant, "When?"
"A few weeks ago. One of them told me that you made them stop saying things about me. You made them stop disrespecting me." she said quietly, biting her bottom lip nervously, "What did you say?"
Tristan didn't answer, but instead glanced away from her, shrugging his shoulders, "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me." she protested quietly, "I care."
He turned back to her, "It's past. It's done. Forget it."
"But I want to know what made them–"
He swore, twisting his head away from her sharply before cutting her off, "Drop it, Leigh." he growled quietly
She fell silent. Rory stared up at him, taken aback, her eyes narrowed, but he refused to look back at her. Because he refused to turn to her, she watched the way the muscles in his jaw worked, flexing as he ground his teeth together. His eyes were tight, his stance rigid. "Are you mad at me?"
At that he finally turned to look at her, "No."
She sat down, her legs tired from standing all day, "Then what is it?"
He didn't respond at first, but sighed, "Leigh," he shook his head lightly, glancing down at her, "The things they were saying...you didn't hear the worst of it. If they were talking about any woman that way I would have done the same thing. It's the situation. It's what they were saying that makes me mad. Not you." he sighed again shaking his head, "Never you."
She looked up at him, biting her lip, "What?"
He walked around the pavilion, staying close so that she could hear him, but not straying too far within proximity of her, "The things you say, I never know how to take them. No one has ever had the audacity to say the things to me that you say. At first I didn't think you understood that practically every time you opened your mouth you were risking death, but then I realized that you did know." he turned to face her, several feet away, "You knew exactly what you were doing." Rory opened her mouth, but had nothing to say, so she closed it again. He'd read the look that had crossed her face, however, and he spoke again, "Don't be worried. Don't be sorry. It's like a breath of fresh air, Leigh, to have someone that will just talk to me without worrying that they're going to say the wrong thing or who is just trying to figure out what I want to hear." he stepped closer to her, "At first, I hated it, of course, because I didn't understand you. But I don't hate it now; I still don't understand it, but I certainly don't hate it. I've never had anyone say anything remotely like what you say to me. I thought in the beginning it was because you hated me and so you just didn't care, but I don't think you hate me anymore."
Rory watched him in disbelief. She'd never seen him speak so vehemently or so rushed. She'd never seen him say what he wanted or what he liked. And with a shock that raced down her spine and chilled her bones, she realized that she didn't hate him. She in no way hated the man in front of her. She had resentments, of course, but could find no hate. Because in her mind this was not the person who had killed her family. She had somehow completely separated the person standing before her from the king ten years ago. "I...." she trailed off, blinking rapidly to regain her focus, "I don't...." she pushed herself off the ground shakily, taking a step back from him. He still had the same wild light shining behind his eyes as he watched her step back. "I can't–" her voice broke and she shook her head lightly, "I have to go." And she turned, racing from the pavilion as Tristan called her name.
-----------
Rory laid in bed two days later, staring up at the ceiling as early morning sunlight filtered through the curtain at her window and fell into her room. The block of yellow heat hadn't yet reached her bed and so she wasn't yet being burned enough to make her move. She had declined going on the run with the men today, her mind too fuddled from the things she'd heard two nights ago to concentrate on where she was going. She would without a doubt have tripped over some obvious root or stone in her path.
She hadn't gone yesterday morning either, that soon after the discussion she would barely have been able to keep up, even now she was off balance. She couldn't believe she hadn't yet gotten a chance to speak with him. Tristan had traveled to one of the smaller villages right outside of the town yesterday and hadn't gotten back until late. As soon as he'd arrived back at the castle he'd been swept into a meeting by Max and Rory hadn't seen him again.
But still, as he'd entered the castle surrounded by advisors and military leaders upon his return, she'd stood at the top of the staircase on her way to speak to Nick, Callum, and Dorian, and immediately he'd looked up at her as if he'd known she was there, his face expressionless but burning at the same time. That look had made her stomach drop and her head spin and still she couldn't get his eyes out of her mind. They'd been clear and wide, staring at her and through her and into her all at the same time, just like he always did. He'd only looked at her for a moment, though, before he was whisked away.
And so she didn't hate Tristan. It was strange to think, after all this time, that being in his presence for a little over a month could make her forget the loathing she'd carried for nearly all her life. He made her angry, of course. There were things he did that made her hate him in a moment. But on the whole? Taking Tristan as a person? She could not find it in herself to hate him any longer.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door, which she didn't acknowledge. There was another series of knocks, but she stared resolutely at the ceiling, watching dust dance through the sunlight that was still several feet above her head. Without another knock the door was kicked open and heavy footsteps came across her floor. She didn't have to look up to know that it was Anna. Any of the other maids would have left when she ignored them a the door.
"Morning, Leigh. Time to get up." she came to the side of the bed. Rory didn't turn to look at her, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a jar of amber wax in one hand and a cup in the other. She shifted now, glancing at the cup but ignoring the wax. She had the thought that maybe if she ignored it Anna wouldn't push the torture on her; but she doubted it.
"What is that?"
"This?" the old woman asked, swirling the cup. Rory nodded. "It's for you."
Her eyes shot to Anna's face, her shock unmasked, "Why?"
She shrugged, turning to set the wax on the window ledge across the room, "I just thought you might like some tea. Here–" she motioned towards Rory as she walked back to her bed, "–sit up."
Rory pushed herself up, leaning against the back board. She took the offered cup from the older woman, still suspicious, "You made this for me?"
"Yes." she smiled.
Rory's eyes narrowed, "Why are you so happy? Is it poisoned?"
Ana rolled her eyes, the grin falling, "No. It is not poisoned."
She raised the rim of the cup to her nose and inhaled lightly, the warmth heating her face. It smelled alright. Her gaze darted up, "Thank you." Anna nodded and Rory glanced back down to the toffee colored liquid before putting the cup to her lips. She wasn't fond of tea; in fact she hated it. But she supposed, if Anna wanted to make peace, she would oblige. It wasn't that they hated each other, but there was tension. Anna ruled the underground of the castle with an iron fist. She was the foremost servant, practically a grandmother to Tristan. She had all but raised both the king and his father. Everyone in the castle respected her and listened to her without question. Except for Rory. She suspected that was why they clashed so frequently; Anna wanted only to control, while she wanted only to be free.
A thin stream of the warm liquid spilled into her mouth and immediately the muscles of the throat bunched, protesting. She was barely able to pull the cup from her lips before the tea spewed from her mouth, followed by a round of violent coughing. Anna turned, unsurprised, to watch as Rory retched, wiping the back of her arm across her mouth in disgust, "What is that?" she croaked, staring at the cup in her hand.
"It's tea." Anna answered simply.
Rory shook her head, "That is not like any tea I have ever tasted before."
"That's because it's medicated."
Rory glanced down at her hand, "With what?"
"Drink it and I'll tell you." she turned to check on the wax.
"Oh that's comforting." Rory croaked sardonically, throwing the covers off.
"Leigh, I wouldn't do anything to hurt you." she said without turning. Rory snorted, but said nothing as she made her way to the chest of drawers across the room to set down the cup. Anna turned at the sound and stared at Rory for a moment, "I would never do anything to hurt you because Tristan would have my head, if that's any consolation."
Rory stopped mid-stride, only a few feet from the dresser. She opened her mouth but didn't speak before turning to face Anna, "What?"
"Don't be coy. You know you amuse him. He would be livid if I poisoned you."
Rory watched Anna as she turned back to prod the wax with a long piece of flat wood. It was true enough. Anna loved Tristan, that much Rory knew, and even if Tristan wouldn't have punished her harshly for killing her, Anna would never do anything to hurt him. And so Rory, against her better judgement, drank the tea in four large, stinging gulps. It took all her willpower not to throw it back up and she stood still for a moment, one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach, waiting for the nausea to pass.
Anna turned around and smiled lightly, "See? Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Rory waited a moment to speak and when she did it came out in a croak, "What was that?"
"Queen Anne's Lace." she turned back to prod the wax.
Rory shook her head, leaning against the wall, "What?"
"Queen Anne's Lace." she repeated, not looking at Rory, "Wild carrot seed. It prevents pregnancy." Rory froze, her hand pulled partly away from her mouth. Anna, obviously aware of her reaction but ignoring it, continued to prod the wax. "This should be ready in a few hours."
"It prevents pregnancy?" Rory asked, dazed.
"Yes. I know it doesn't taste wonderful. And you'll have a little inflamation, dear, but all in all its for the better."
"Wha-" Rory broke off, shaking her head, too dazed to really be angry. "I am not sleeping with Tristan!"
"Not yet, perhaps." Anna answered, turning to face her.
"No, not just not yet. I'm not going to. Ever."
Anna sighed, shaking her head, "Alright. Fine. Maybe not. But this can't hurt. Taking precautions can't hurt."
"It doesn't matter, I–"
"Leigh." Anna cut her off, coming forward to take Rory's hands in hers, "Leigh maybe you won't. Maybe you will. I don't know and neither do you. But the fact of the matter is that you are a smart girl. You're an extremely smart girl. You do not want to end up with a child right now." Rory opened her mouth but Anna shushed her. "This is for the best, whether you do give yourself to him or not. I say you're a smart girl because you know that if you get pregnant nothing will happen. Perhaps Tristan would wish to marry you for the child, perhaps he wouldn't. But regardless of what he wants, he is the king, and so his desires in the way of a wife mean nothing. You would be alone to raise a child. Believe me when I say that you do not want to end up with the bastard child of a king."
Rory stared at her, breathing evenly against the anger that was building in her. But it was difficult to be angry at Anna as she held Rory's hands in her wrinkled fingers. As she stared at Rory with the softest expression she'd ever seen on the old woman's face. As she confided in her, protected her against the trials of being a woman. There was a solidarity in Anna's words that Rory had never sensed before. And so she couldn't be mad. Albeit Anna was probably lying; Rory was sure she would protect Tristan against the accusations of an illegitimate child rather than Rory.
But still, she couldn't be mad at one of the few people who genuinely had help to offer her.
But she was not going to sleep with Tristan.
--------------------------------
Rory stood across from Logan later that day, stepping carefully to her left while he moved to his as well. The circled each other slowly, swords held at their sides. The training arena was empty, save for the two of them. The men had already gone for their supper, worn out, bleeding, and bruised after sparring for several hours. They'd each had to fight two of their fellow trainees, as well as Rory and Logan before they could go. Everyone but Nick in his fight against Rory had landed flat on their backs. After an extended practice Logan had had to end that duel, saying that it could have gone on for days if he'd let it. The future general, however, had bested him with difficulty.
Now the men were gone and Logan had challenged her to a duel. They'd been at it for nearly twenty minutes, neither able to accomplish much. She watched him move, her eyes constantly scanning between his legs, arms, and face. There was a tensing of his arm, minuscule, she almost missed it, and then he was lunging at her. She deflected deftly, raising her sword to block his own and then skipping out of the way as he swiped for her again. She saw his face light up, a grin creeping on. She ignored his amusement, focusing on his body rather than his face. Logan faked left and she raised her arm slightly. His grin widened as he moved as if to strike again, but his thrust was interrupted with a crashing from the forest to their right.
Rory, who had practically been raised in the woods, recognized the sound of deer hooves when she heard them; Logan, however, did not, and so his head snapped around in the direction of the noise. He was only distracted for a moment, but she swiped her foot across his ankles, bringing him crashing down on his back. Logan collapsed with a grunt, swearing under his breath as he glared up at her from the ground. She smirked, shaking her head, "You shouldn't be caught off guard."
He stood easily, without the use of his hands, his eyebrow cocked. He'd realized it had been a deer, "I shouldn't be caught off guard?" she shook her head, grinning. But the grin was quickly wiped away as he darted straight for her. She barely had time to stumble back a step before Logan was at her, leaning forward so that his shoulder caught her in the stomach. She would have toppled back if it weren't for the arms that clasped behind her knees, hauling her over his shoulder as he stood straight towards the end of his sprint. She gasped, her fingers reflexively clutching the back of his shirt so she wouldn't fall. He'd stopped running but went into a spin, the weight of her over one shoulder pulling him into it.
"Logan!" she shrieked, punching his back without letting go of his shirt.
He laughed, "Yes?"
"Put me down."
"I'm sorry, what?" he turned as if trying to face her, but it swung her around again. She kicked but her feet only caught air and so she pinched him, but he just laughed. "Logan I'm going to kill you."
"Are you?" he grinned, jumping lightly so she shouted again. "Who's the one that doesn't need to be caught off guard?"
"You manhandled me. It's not the same as having a skill." she deadpanned.
He snorted, "Just because I took advantage of your inferiority as a woman does not mean that I--ow!" He yelped as she pinched him harder than before. "Damn woman. I was only pointing out a fact."
"Put me down."
"No. I think I'll keep you like this." he stepped as if starting towards the castle and Rory did the last thing she could think of. It was completely unprofessional, but she snaked her hand around his back reached for his side. Logan reacted immediately, jumping and yelling as she tickled him. "That is not fair. That's not the same as having a skill." He jostled her until her hand broke away from his side and she was strung farther over his shoulder, grabbing onto the bottom of his shirt to hang on. And he started back towards the castle.
Rory swore quietly, Shifting her hips until she was positioned better. "What are you doing?" he asked, shifting his shoulder.
"Nothing to concern yourself with." she answered as she pushed up with the muscles of her abdomen so that her chest was parallel with the ground rather than against his back. She grabbed his shirt higher up to push down on so that she would stay up as he plodded down the trail to the castle.
He glanced at her side, which was all of her that he could see. "Hey, what are you– " but he broke off in laughter as her fingers found his side again, this time tickling him harder than before. His body jerked and in reaction he swung her off his shoulder, dropping her. A surprised shriek escaped before she could stop it as the ground rushed towards her, but Logan seamlessly caught her a few feet from the ground, one arm around her back and the other wrapped behind her thighs.
He smirked at her, swinging her around, "You should be more careful."
She rolled her eyes, "Put me down."
Logan laughed, his head falling back as he set her gently onto her feet. He looked past her, his eyes still creased around the corners, "Hey Tristan."
Rory's eyes widened as she twisted around to see the king standing on the trail, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange. She wondered briefly how much he'd seen. He looked amused rather than angry, she realized with relief. Before he had usually been irate when he saw them like this. "Having fun?" he asked, and there was an edge to his voice she didn't recognize. It did make her realize, however, that he was not pleased with their performance.
"I was just teaching your trainer to keep on her guard." Logan explained, wrapping an arm around Rory's shoulders.
She glanced over at him, her eyebrow arched, before shrugging him off, "Except not."
He just grinned at her, stepping towards the castle, "Except yes." he answered back before glancing towards Tristan. "I need to get back to arrange your escort for tomorrow." Tristan nodded, uninterested. "Do you want to take any of the new men with you?"
He nodded again, "Two or three of the most advanced. Just so they can get a feel for what they'll be doing soon." he was quiet for only a moment, "Bring Nicholas Dreeden. Decide on the others who will come." Logan nodded, bowing his head to each of them before setting off back towards the castle.
Rory turned to look at Tristan but he wasn't paying attention to her. Instead he was looking into the woods that surrounded them. After a stretch of silence he headed towards the practice pavilion. She watched him go, standing still for a moment before following him. They walked in silence as they neared the practice arena, a stale wind keeping them from heating up too badly. They were nearly under the shade of the wall-less roof before she spoke. "You're leaving?"
He nodded, still not looking at her, "Just for a week. Maybe eight or nine days."
"May I ask where you're going?" she said quietly, glancing around them. The last time they'd been alone here hadn't ended well.
He laughed lightly, "No matter what my answer would be, it wouldn't stop you."
She bit her lip, grinning, "No, probably not."
"Rivenlear." he supplied without further prodding.
"Rivenlear?"
"Rivenlear."
She shook her head, "But I thought you were going to refuse his proposal?"
"I am. But I still need to visit him, to keep the peace. I wouldn't want to offend him." he shook his head, "To do that I just have to convince him that someone else would be much better suited for his daughter."
Rory's eyebrow quirked and she folded her arms, "Good luck."
"What?" he asked, turning to face her, "You don't think I can?"
She shook her head, "I think he'll be hard pressed to find another suitor his daughter will be quite so willing to marry for political reasons."
Tristan watched her for a moment, uncomprehending, "Why is that?"
She laughed lightly, stepping around the pavilion as she spoke, "Don't be modest now, Tristan. Almost any girl who marries for her father's gain has to make peace with the fact that her husband will be disgusting pig of a man at least twice her age who has no regard for her comfort or pleasure." she turned around to face him, a challenging grin in place, "Imagine that she gets placed with you instead. You have a reputation of not only pleasing women, but making them swoon. You're young, golden, and strong." she shrugged, turning away from him again to twirl in a circle around him, "Besides," her lip quirked, "you have all your teeth." Tristan laughed lightly, more amused by her antics than he speech. "But back to my story of the soon-to-be-devastated Princess of Rivenlear. She's paired with you, giving her a future to hope for rather than dread. She's started to not hate her father so much. I'm sure she's preparing for your arrival with abandon because she is positive you've come to accept; she's probably happier than she's ever been in all her life–" Rory broke off abruptly, coming to a stop several feet from him.
She stared at him for a moment, tilting her head. He smiled softly, folding his arms across his chest, "What?"
"How long has it been since you've seen her?"
He shrugged, shaking his head, "Two years, maybe?"
Rory's eyes nearly popped from their sockets, her jaw dropping before she threw her arms out to continue her spinning and proceed with her prediction. "So it's been two years since she's seen you. Her memories of you are that of a thirteen year old swooning over the white knight, the noble king of the land to the north." she twirled into dangerously close proximity of him, but didn't seem to take notice as she continued, "But now, when she sees you tomorrow, she'll realize that it wasn't all a dream. She hasn't been building you up for all these years. You really are everything she thought you would be–" Rory broke off in a gasp as he grabbed her around the waist, twirling her in a graceful circle once before bringing her to rest against his chest, one of his arms curled around her waist while her hands rested on his chest, where they'd fallen when he grabbed her.
She stared up at him, their faces inches apart, her eyes wide. She swallowed, her breathing uneven as she finished shakily, "And then you crush her. You tell her it wasn't what she thought." Rory whispered, only now realizing exactly how unamusing the situation was. Tristan stared at her; held her against him, but there wasn't any of the tension there had been two days ago. She was able to relax against him, to rest against his arm rather than have her entire body tensing against his touch.
"You really think that?" he asked quietly, his gaze locked with hers.
Her mouth opened for a moment before she could form a coherent thought. "Which part?"
"All of it."
She exhaled quietly, pressing her lips together, "I do, about you being better than the rest. And I do about how happy she'll be right now. And about how devastated she will be tomorrow."
Tristan stared at her, his expression indecipherable, "And you think I should accept the offer." he said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Rory gazed up at him, unwilling or unable to break eye contact as her hands slid down his chest slowly, unconsciously, to rest on his biceps. "I think," she said softly, "That you should do what you want. I don't think you should be forced to take a wife you don't want just because you're king."
Tristan stared at her, penetrated her in a way he never had. He was trying to see how much she really believed; trying to see if she was telling a lie. But he saw none. The muscles in his throat worked against some wordless emotion. It wasn't pain. It wasn't affection. It was something else that made his eyes shine and she saw in a glimpse she was sure he didn't mean for her to recognize, that she had just given him hope. That she had given him the ability to say no to a woman he could never love or respect, but had been considering as a wife because she would be good for his people. Rory saw in a flash that quickly faded: Tristan had not intended to say no. He had not yet fixed himself to the idea that he would refuse her because the guilt would have been too much. She saw his eyes light, his face clear, and in a rush that took her breath away he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her tight against him. Her arms instinctively caught around his neck as the air was crushed from her lungs before he swung her in a circle.
A surprised laugh bubbled from the back of her throat as he swung her and her hands clutched the back of his shirt harder. He set her on the ground, pulling back to look at her. There was pure joy in his gaze, something she'd never seen on him before. He looked lighter, brighter than she'd ever seen him, as if some heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He held her away from him so that he could look into her face with nothing but hope and thanks; no tension, no pressure, and no temptation. There was none of the usual burning in her lower stomach that had currently accompanied Tristan's touch. It was all comfortable; it was the way he would touch a friend, the way he would look at a friend.
He sighed, squeezing her shoulders affectionately, "Leigh, you are amazing. Have I ever told you that?"
She laughed, unable to control the smile that spread across her face at his expression, "No, I don't think you have."
"Well, you are." he leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead and she gasped lightly, her hands flying to clutch his wrists without thinking and at the contact her skin burned.
Tristan froze, his breath still. Rory swallowed hard, her eyelids fluttering as she inhaled slowly to calm her erratically beating heart. She felt his fingers flex on her shoulders, reacting as their skin warmed on contact. His hands stayed in place for another moment before hesitantly shifting inward, brushing across her neck and coming to rest on her cheeks, turning her face up towards his. He opened his mouth, but couldn't speak at first. Finally after a stretch of silence he spoke quietly, "Leigh." his breath danced across her neck and cheeks.
"Hmm?" she breathed, unable to speak.
Again he tried to speak before he was able, his gaze drew down to her red, slightly parted lips before he could stop it, "I ca–" he broke off, his face torn. And so in silence, and with a difficulty she could see, he pulled his hands away, dropping them from her face.
He touched her arm gently and chills raced down her spine as he traced the contours of her arm down the curve of her elbow and around the gentle corner of her wrist until he held her hand in his, her fingers curled loosely around his index finger. He locked gazes with her and pulled her hand towards his face, raising it gently until he was able to touch his lips to the back of her hand, between the second and third knuckles.
Rory was able to breath normally as he did so and she watched him, unable to look away. "Thank you." he whispered again, his voice affected, "You don't know what you've done for me."
And with that the dropped her hand and turned, walking briskly back to the castle to be swallowed by the foliage.