CHAPTER 55: A MOMENT BETWEEN ENEMIES

FIA

The sentinel at the door looked me up and down, then quickly averted his gaze.

My stomach twisted. Was it that bad? I pulled the robe tighter around myself, suddenly very aware of how little the nightgown covered. The fabric felt thinner than it had in my room, and the hallway seemed colder.

"I’m here to see Cian," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

The sentinel nodded without meeting my eyes. He reached for the door and pushed it open. "You can go in."

"Thank you," I murmured, but he’d already looked away again.

I stepped inside and heard the door click shut behind me. The lounge area stretched before me, all dark wood and leather furniture. Everything was meticulously arranged. Not a cushion out of place. Not a single object that didn’t serve a purpose.

It was exactly what I’d expected from Cian.

I moved through the lounge toward what I assumed was the bedroom. My bare feet made no sound on the thick carpet. The robe swished around my thighs with each step.

The bedroom door was open. I walked through and stopped.

The space was bigger than mine. Much bigger. The furniture was the same dark wood as the lounge, heavy and masculine. A massive bed dominated the center of the room, covered in deep gray linens. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with leather-bound volumes arranged by size. A desk sat near the window, papers stacked in neat piles.

His scent hit me then. Pine and something darker, earthier. It filled the room like it belonged there. Like it had seeped into the walls and furniture until everything carried traces of him.

I took another step inside, taking in the details. The curtains were drawn but not completely closed. Moonlight filtered through the gap, casting silver lines across the floor. A sword hung on the wall above the desk. The blade caught the light and gleamed.

Everything about this room was controlled. Ordered. Like he couldn’t stand the idea of chaos in his personal space.

A door opened somewhere to my right.

I turned.

And froze.

Cian stood in the doorway of what had to be the bathroom. Water dripped from his hair and ran in rivulets down his chest. His skin was still flushed from heat. A white towel hung low on his hips, tied loosely at his v line where muscle carved deep shadows.

My eyes betrayed me. They traced down from his face to his shoulders to his chest. Water beaded on his skin and caught the overhead light. His stomach was full of hard lines and definition and that towel sat dangerously low.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I spun around so fast I nearly lost my balance.

"I’m so sorry," I said, the words tumbling out too fast. "The sentinel let me in. I didn’t think you’d be naked."

There was silence at first. Then his voice, rough and low spoke. "It’s fine."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I stared at the wall in front of me like it held all the answers to the universe.

"Give me a minute," he said.

"Of course. Yes. Take your time."

I heard him move. I heard his footsteps across the floor. The soft sound of fabric sliding against skin. Something dropped with a muffled thump. More movement followed and then I felt the rustle of clothing being pulled on.

It was a hurdle to stay in place. So I kept a mantra close to my heart.

Don’t turn around. Don’t you dare turn around.

I focused on breathing. In and out. Nice and steady. Like I wasn’t standing in Cian’s bedroom wearing a scandalous nightgown while he changed behind me.

"You can turn around now." He said, breaking the mess that was my thought process.

I hesitated then slowly turned.

He stood near the wardrobe wearing gray pajama bottoms. Just the bottoms. Nothing else. They hung low on his hips, sitting at that same dangerous v line that had been barely hidden by the towel.

Was that intentional? Did he know what he was doing?

My cheeks burned hotter. I forced my eyes to stay on his face and nowhere else.

"Sorry," I said again. "I should have knocked or made my presence known somehow."

"The sentinel should have waited for me to answer," Cian said. His jaw tightened. "It’s not your fault."

My mind went immediately to the sentinel outside. Would Cian lash out at him for this? Would the man blame me? Golly. More hate directed my way because he’d dared to allow me enter when Cian was undressed?

I tried not to linger on the thought. There were more pressing things to worry about. Like being this close to Cian in a bedroom. Like concentrating on hating him even if he looked like that.

Even if he did have a very great body.

Stop it. Stop thinking about his body.

"Shut up," Cian said suddenly.

I blinked. Because it felt like he could read my lewd thoughts. "What?"

"Nothing." He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I was talking to myself."

That was odd. What could he possibly be wrestling with? I could peek into his emotions if I wanted to. Just a quick brush against his mental state to see what was going on inside his head.

But I didn’t want to. Not when I was making such a conscious effort to shield my own emotions. I would rather die than let him know how affected I was by his presence. By the sight of him half naked and still dripping wet from his bath.

He gestured toward the bed. "You can take that side. I’ll take the other."

I stared at the bed. Then at the lounge visible through the doorway. There was a perfectly comfortable ergonomic chair out there. Big enough for someone to sleep in if they tried.

I looked back at him. "We’re really doing this?"

"You said you would," he said. "To put my mother’s mind at ease."

I hated that I hadn’t been more against the idea. I hated that I’d agreed so easily. Because now I was standing here in a babygirl nightgown that barely covered anything, and he was shirtless with those pants that left very little to the imagination.

I knew better than to look down. I was fairly certain he wasn’t wearing briefs.

I walked to the bed slowly. Each step felt heavier than it should have been. When I reached my side, I climbed onto the mattress and moved to the very edge. As far from the center as I could get.

I turned onto my side so I faced the wall. If I couldn’t see him, maybe this would be easier. Maybe I could pretend I was alone in my own room instead of sharing a bed with this man.

The mattress dipped behind me. He was getting in.

I went rigid. Every muscle in my body locked up. The sheets rustled as he settled himself. I could feel him there even though we weren’t touching. The warmth of his body. The weight of his presence.

He shifted and adjusted his position.

Then he spoke.

"I didn’t know your mother had the rot."

My hands clenched into fists under the covers. I kept my eyes on the wall.

"It’s been a while," I said. "A long while. Plus, it was Hazel you were interested in, so why would you care about her half sister’s mother?"

The words came out sharper than I’d intended. But I didn’t take them back. They were true after all.

"When it was clear that it was terminal," Cian said, his voice quieter now, "did she suffer?"

Something twisted in my chest. My nails dug into my palms.

"When Silver Creek’s medicine and healers weren’t doing much for her, I delved deeper into healing myself," I said. "Plenty of what I learned came from my mother. Some I learned on my own."

I paused. Swallowed hard.

"But it wasn’t enough. She suffered. To the bitter end."

Silence fell between us. Heavy and thick.

"I fear what it will be like when that time comes for my mother," Cian said.

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. I turned over without thinking.

Our eyes met.

My breath caught. We were closer than I’d realized. Close enough that I could see the water still clinging to his eyelashes. Close enough to count the drops running down his temple.

I swallowed. "But your mother isn’t terminal."

"She is."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Really? It looked like it was just onset stage."

"I give her the best," he said. "Perhaps that’s why it feels like that. But she doesn’t have long."

That didn’t make sense. I’d seen his mother tonight. Yes, there were signs of the rot, but nothing that suggested she was near the end. Nothing that indicated she was beyond help.

But maybe he was right. Skollrend was much richer and bigger than Silver Creek. They had access to treatments and healers we could only dream of. With each passing year, new methods emerged. New ways to slow the rot’s progression.

If his mother truly didn’t have long despite all that, then the disease must have progressed further than it appeared.

"You should do your best to make use of the time she has left," I said. "So you don’t regret it."

He just looked at me.

"There’s no point in cooping her up," I continued. "If there’s a place you two want to be or see or do, do it now. So you don’t regret it when she’s gone."

His expression shifted. Softened somehow. Like I’d said something he hadn’t expected.

"Thank you," he said.

Those two words hung in the air between us. Simple but weighted with something I couldn’t quite name.

I turned back to face the wall. My heart was still racing. The conversation had stirred up too many memories. Too many nights spent watching my mother waste away while I desperately tried everything I could think of to help her.

"Goodnight," I said.

I expected silence. Expected him to just roll over and ignore me like he usually did.

But he didn’t.

"Goodnight," he said back.

His voice was soft and almost gentle.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. Tried to ignore how strange it felt to hear him say that word to me. Like maybe, for just a moment, we weren’t enemies forced together by circumstance.

Like maybe we were just two people sharing a bed and wishing each other well.

The thought terrified me more than anything else that had happened tonight.

Because I liked it.