Chains of Moonlight Chapter Sixteen

Ulkos figuring out how to get through the bars separating them was the worst thing he could have ever done. But Aesira couldn’t deny how safe she had felt waking up in his arms after she had cried herself out and had fallen asleep to his gentle, whispered assurances.

So much for not getting attached.

She knew the smart thing to do would be to tell him to stay in his cell and to leave the bars alone, with the excuse that they would both be in a world of pain if they were ever caught. But every time she opened her mouth to tell him to go, they never came out.

She also couldn’t be certain it would even work if she did. Especially in the first few days following her most recent interrogation, he was practically glued to her side, except for when the guards came and brought their rations.

None of the other bars were weak enough to break, according to him. Even if they could, Aesira knew it wouldn’t help them. Even if they could get out of their cells, they had no chance of escaping the palace.

She was glad he had somehow memorized the guards’ schedule because she’d been unable to make heads or tails of it. He never asked her again what she’d seen, but he was always there when she woke up from her nightmares, ready to dote on her.

She couldn’t tell him that she’d been seeing Ragna and Heimir, each one being tortured by the Moon Elves because she wouldn’t answer their questions. She especially couldn’t tell him that the very last vision her mind had shown her, deceiving her into believing it was reality, was him being tortured before her very eyes. She couldn’t tell him how she’d seen him begging for her help, and Prince Veremund promising it would all stop if she would just answer their questions.

Instead, she would just prod Ulkos into talking, asking him to repeat stories he’d already told her, and he did. Soon enough she’d be able to recite the stories he told about his older sister in her sleep. She tried to nudge him into new stories about his other sister and his brother, but he never said much.

When he did come over, he was always checking her injuries, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead as he looked for a fever, insisting she eat, or fussing with the cloak and telling her she was too cold. She snapped at him every time he did it the first day, but Ulkos was persistent above all else.

And while the rations they were getting were providing her a little more strength, the physical improvement wasn’t enough. Her ironclad will was gone when it came to Ulkos.

So she let him take care of her.

Any other lifetime, she would be fuming at it all, but she was too tired to care. What did she have left to prove?

She didn’t have anyone left to be strong for. There was no one she was trying to impress. She wasn’t stuck behind Heimir’s shadow, desperately trying to claw her way out of it.

Ulkos didn’t think less of her for accepting it. Doting on her had been his idea.

No one had ever… cared about her the way Ulkos did.

The only person who had ever taken care of her was her brother, and that was only because he had to. Ulkos was doing it because he wanted to.

Because he wanted her.

He was always touching her in some fashion. More than just the joined hands from between the bars. No. He was almost always holding her, putting a hand on her leg, brushing her hair out of her face. She couldn’t deny how much his soft, gentle hands brushing over her shoulders and down her arms, meant to her after months where every physical touch was agony. No matter her better judgment screaming at her that she needed to push him away and put more distance between them, so the vision she saw never became a reality, she couldn’t. She couldn’t force herself out of his arms. She couldn’t believe how gentle a fellow guard could be with her.

Was it wrong to accept it?

One day, the sun setting and casting the orange glow into their cell, she was curled up with her front against his, her wings behind her. His arm was wrapped loosely around her waist, the other resting on her calf. This time she was the one speaking softly, telling him a story of one time when Heimir was training her, how she had gotten his wing stuck in a tree evading him. A grin was on her lips as Ulkos’ laugh, deep in his chest, rumbled against her cheek.

She loved—

She loved hi—

She loved his laugh.

She curled her fingers into his disgusting shirt, her voice a little more breathless than before. “He was pulling leaves and twigs from between his feathers for weeks. But he told me he couldn’t have been prouder of me. It was that same sharp maneuver that ensured I made the cut to join the palace guard, at least, that’s what they told me.”

Ulkos’ gaze dropped to hers. “And I’m guessing that also led to you becoming the Captain of the Guard.”

She nodded, whispering. “So you see, if he’d never have taught me that, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Ulkos whispered, “No matter how much I want you here with me, I am sorry that you’re here. I wish this was anywhere else. I wish we had met anywhere else.”

The weight of every word slammed into her heart, and Aesira had never believed anyone as much as she believed him. His hand shifted up her back slightly. Her breath caught in her throat. She whispered, “I wish that too.”

And then he was moving down. His hand shifted up, and she was frozen in place.

Did she let this happen?

She wanted it to.

It was the worst mistake she could ever make. But, oh, how desperately she wanted to make it.

His lips were just about to brush hers, when his hand brushed over the innermost part of her wing, fingers grazing the feathers right where it joined her back. And that touch shocked her back to reality, her cheeks turning a vivid red as she jerked back out of his grip, dislodging his hand from her as she removed herself from his grip entirely, drawing her wings in so he couldn’t touch her back at all.

As she sat across from him, his hand still ever hovering in the air where she’d been, she whispered, “This is a bad idea.”

He stared at her and blinking for a few seconds before he dropped his hands to his lap. He let out a fragile laugh. “Why? Do you have a husband I don’t know about?”

Heat flooded her face. She shook her head. “No, not a husband.”

But then his eyes doubled in size, nearly falling out of his skull as he leaned forward, bracing one hand on the ground. “What do you mean ‘not a husband?’ Is there someone else?”

Her stomach churned. Everything she touched lately, she made a mess of. She should have been honest with him. It would have kept him far away like he should be. But she’d just been too weak.

She ducked her head, unable to meet his gaze. “Not… Not quite like that. The plan was after I completed my mission, escorting Ragna to the Sun Elves and back, I was supposed to get engaged.”

“You have a lover back home?” Ulkos’ voice darkened, and he looked at her the same way he had at the Moon Elves when they’d dragged her away. “You’ve promised yourself to another man?”

She looked up, eyes widening as she reached out and shook her head. “No! I’m not promised to anyone. There was no one back home I was I attached to that way. It was… It was the beginning of an arrangement.”

Ulkos raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look as he bit his tongue.

“My brother was in talks with his parents, and they were delaying. They’re noble, and while they have a higher opinion of the guard than others, our status was still a hesitation. Their daughter being in the guard helped get the talks started, but I needed to prove I was worthy of marrying their son. I was hoping by bringing Tofa, she’d then gush to her parents when we got back about how wonderful I was and that she would kill to have me as her sister-in-law. Everyone knows she’s their actual favorite and give her whatever she wants. Then the arrangement would move forward.” Aesira couldn’t help the waver in her voice. “And I killed her instead. I was so selfish and reckless. I shouldn’t have taken her. But I cared more about trying to close this deal than about her life.”

“Aesira—”

“But that’s not what you wanted to know. I don’t even know if Ivorr’s family told him. Tofa didn’t know; I was going to strategically mention an interest during the trip to plant the idea in her head—what is wrong with me? She adored me, and I was taking advantage of it to get to her brother, who I don’t even—” She reached up and wiped at her eyes, trying to choke back the sob threatening to rip through her.

She couldn’t look Ulkos in the eyes. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore him, but she caught his lips twisting up into an annoyingly handsome smirk. He was focusing on all the wrong things. He should be horrified at hearing the kind of person she really was. He should be pushing her away, refusing to be near such a monster. Instead, he was just grinning at her with a fire in his eyes that had her heart racing and wings rustling.

She took a deep breath. “There were no feelings involved. It was a purely practical match so I could become noble by marriage, and elevate Heimir’s status by association.”

“Your brother was going to sell you off to the highest bidder?” The barely bridled fury in his voice stoked Aesira’s own.

Why was she even telling him any of this?

“It was my idea, not his!” Aesira snapped. “Don’t you dare look down on me! I was doing what I thought was best for my family.”

“He still—” Ulkos cut himself off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter now, I suppose, but if your brother was here, I would be having words with him.”

“If my brother was here, you wouldn’t be trying to…” Aesira bit her tongue, staring down at the ground and trying to banish the flush on her cheeks.

He shifted back, pressing his hand to his heart and letting out a long, relieved sigh. “So you have no husband. You have no betrothed. Not even a lover. You don’t even like the man you were trying to marry.”

She shot him a glare. “I didn’t say that.”

“You were about to.” Ulkos gave her that all-knowing look that had her resisting the urge to squirm because no one had ever known her that well before, and she hadn’t believe anyone ever could.

She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her wings around them. “Fine. I guess, when you put it like that, no.”

Ulkos leaned forward again, shifting his legs, the tension ebbing out of his voice with every clarifying word. “And even with these talks, you yourself have made no promise of your hand or your affections to anyone, right?”

She nodded. “I have not made any promises to anyone. Even If I had, it would have fallen through thanks to this debacle. Even if I were by some miracle to escape and leave, I doubt they would want their son to marry a valkyrie that had couldn’t win one battle against the Moon Elves. Not to mention…” Aesira’s throat tightened again before she even reached Tofa’s name.

Tofa’s family would never forgive her. The idea of Ivorr marrying Aesira after what she’d done was laughable.

Ulkos’ hand shifted in the air, gesturing toward her and drawing her attention back to him. Mirth started to seep into his words. “So, you said this was a bad idea because you’ve not made a promise of your hand or affections to someone?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, not finding this nearly as funny as he did. “It’s a bad idea for many reasons. One of which is that I was being intended for someone back home.”

“Of which no arrangement was finalized and entered into. Not to mention those people all think you’re dead. What do you owe to that valkyrie? You have no feelings for him, even if you won’t admit it, it’s written all over you. You wouldn’t be so cavalier about all of it if you cared for him. Whatever understanding you imagine there still is, you would be well within your rights to break it, considering he likely has as well—if he even knew about it, which he didn’t—presuming you’re dead. You’re free to do what you like.”

“You mean, I’m free to do what you would like,” Aesira shot back, narrowing her eyes.

His hands were braced on the ground as he was hovering in front of her again. The tip of his nose nearly brushed hers. He whispered, “Then let me be clearer. Tell me, are you in love with anyone?”

Her heart was pounding against her bruised ribs. All she could do was stare into his warm amber eyes. She couldn’t answer him. She wished she’d never laid eyes on him.

He whispered, “That’s what I thought.”

And then he was moving in again, and this time, Aesira had no protest left on her lips to stop him. But right as his lips brushed hers, he shifted his head, turning and kissing the corner of her lips and her cheek instead. He pressed his forehead against hers, one hand covering hers and fingers curling around it. “Maybe one day it won’t be a bad idea.”

How had he done it? How could she have let him do this to her? This attachment, she’d known how foolish it was, but she hadn’t stopped it. She hadn’t done enough.

The Moon Elves should have done her the mercy of executing her the second they got their hands on him.

* * *

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