Zoe Reed - Breaking Legacies

Outside, I could hear that the wind was picking up speed, and so, as much of a relief as it was being able to vent to Brande, I was too afraid to stay out here much longer. “I’m going back in, old boy.”

Before I left, I made sure he had enough food and water to last him a while, and I nodded to the stablehand on my way out. I hurried back into the inn and to the room. When I pushed open the door, Ava was sitting at the small table at the far end near the window, and had just given Albus something to eat—probably a bit of bread from the half loaf on the table. It startled her when I walked in, and her eyes widened guiltily as though she wasn’t sure if she could feed him bread. I tried to hold back a smile at the display, though a small one cracked my lips.

“You shouldn’t leave the room without my knowing it, Ava,” I told her, knowing she’d had to leave to get the meat and cup on the table, and after I closed the door behind me and shed my coat, I went to sit across from her.

“Got to keep an eye on me?” she asked with a smirk. Though I was safely indoors, I couldn’t ignore the way the shutters were shaking in their frame only feet away. Had I not been so tense at their shivering, Ava’s smile might have been enough to make my cheeks tint. “What if I ran?” she asked before I could come up with a response. “What would you do?”

I didn’t want Ava asking about the storm, so in an attempt to hide my discomfort, I teased, “Your father gave me permission to tie you up and throw you over Brande’s back.”

“Would you?” she giggled.

I considered it for a long moment, noting her joy at that being one of the boldest things I’d said to her. I’d have to watch myself. I couldn’t guard so well against her charm and my tension. “I don’t suppose I would,” I answered, and she cropped her eyebrows with interest. “I’d follow you, make sure you were safe.” I’d try to convince her to come back to Guelder with me too, though I didn’t say so.

“For the king’s content,” she asked, but her playfulness was gone, “or yours?”

I considered that too, even more carefully than her previous question. That sounded like a test. Like she was judging my motive or my resolve to doing the right thing. I’d sworn two oaths. She knew it, and she was trying to figure out which I’d choose. “Your father’s content is my freedom, Ava,” I told her, “and my freedom is my content.” However, I knew what she was really asking me. Did I care about her more than the king? Did I trust her enough to chance it? “But I’ve always thought a clear conscience is a freedom none can take.”

“And the risk to you?” Her big, sapphire eyes met mine. “It’s worth it?”

“No matter what I do, my life is at risk,” I said, setting my hands on the table to lean forward with focus, “it has been since the moment you ran.” It hadn’t been my intent to make an accusation of that fact, but Ava still glanced away with a stinging amount of remorse. I didn’t want her to feel guilty for running, not if her life was in danger. She had every right to protect herself. “It’s the risk to you now, and yes, it’s worth it.”

She looked at me again, staring at me for such a long, silent moment that I started to feel weak under her gaze. “If the king was the risk to my life,” she said, barely a whisper, “what then?”

My eyebrows furrowed at that. Was it another test, pitting my two oaths against each other? Or was she finally trying to tell me something? “Then our risk is the same, and my life is yours.”

Ava took in a deep, thoughtful breath. Her hand moved across the table, so slowly that there could’ve been time for me to move mine if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I let it land on top of mine, and it was inappropriate, but my cheeks colored. “The witch,” Ava said quietly, seriously, “she said my life was intertwined with another’s. I think she meant you.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed.

I paused for a silent minute to consider my options. What I truly should have done was taken my hand out from under hers because I enjoyed it too much. The warmth of her skin was contrarily comforting and stirring all at once, like every time her lips touched my cheek. But this conversation was an important one. It appeared she was so close to telling me why she’d run from the castle, and if I removed my hand from hers, it would be like removing a promise. There was safety in the contact of skin; I felt it, and I was sure she did too. So I left it.

I even clasped my free hand over the top of hers, so it was cradled between both of mine. “It’s all the more reason for you to trust me, and tell me what this is about.”

I don’t know if she saw through it and knew that I was trying to make her feel more at ease, but she blinked at me for a second before removing her hand and sitting back. “You should leave, you know,” she said, but every bit of it was full of genuine concern. “You should go home, and abandon this. You’ve been so kind to me… I can’t see you hurt.”

“I can’t go back without you,” I told her, “you realize this?”

Once more, her gaze fell. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. I blame whoever’s threatening your life.” This time, I reached across the table to set my hand on hers, and her eyes met mine when I did, and there was a building brim of tears beneath their brilliant blue. It was torture to see her like that. “Ava, is it your father?”

Her watery eyes watched me, taking me in with due consideration before she blinked away the tears, sniffled, and motioned to the food. “You frightened the innkeeper something fierce,” she said with as much cheer as she could manage.

I sat back and removed my hand, and though I felt defeated that she wouldn’t entirely trust me yet, I tried not to let it show. I gave a small smile. “He earned it.”

The shutters hadn’t ceased their shaking, and I’d been so caught up in talking to Ava that I’d nearly forgotten about it, but now a gust of powerful wind hit them so hard they broke open. It startled me straight out of my seat, and I stood there, frozen as snow pierced into the room. Only a moment passed before Ava hurried over, struggling against the wind and the pain in her injured wrist to shove the window closed. Seeing the wince on her face snapped me out of it, and I rushed over to help her. Together, we replaced the shutters, and while I sat back in my seat, frustrated that I could no longer hide my worry, Ava secured the latch to keep them closed. Still, they rattled violently, and I sheltered my hand over my eyes as if that would shield me from the stress.

My heart kept hammering away in my chest, and now I was embarrassed because I could feel Ava staring at me. It’s only a blizzard , is probably what she was thinking. How could Kiena protect me if she’s frightened of a simple blizzard?

If it’s what she thought, she didn’t say it. She strode over, knelt at my side, and set a hand on my thigh. “Are you alright?”

I made an irritated motion toward the shutters. “If only they’d stop their bloody shaking!” I could handle the wind if it didn’t constantly sound like it’d break into the room.

Ava stayed there for a moment, and after casting a long look around the room, she stood and strode over to the small pile of firewood in the corner. She picked up a log and peeled off a thick piece of bark to carry to the window. There, she jammed the bark into the small crack between the two shutters. It took an obvious effort for her to wedge it in tight enough, but when she did, there was no more room for them to go about their racket. The noise ceased altogether.

She watched my shoulders slump, exhausted from the tension, but I was still too rigid and ashamed to express the gratitude I felt. When I said and did nothing, she walked back over, took my face in her hands, and leaned to press a slow kiss to my cheek. I closed my eyes against the warmth of her lips, and in spite of myself, I let out a revealing sigh.