Caben’s deep laughter fills the cavern. “It’s only freezing for a minute. Your body will adjust.” He pushes back the dripping hair from his forehead as he looks over my wet tunic. “I promised not to look.”
“It will dry,” I say, pulling my tunic away from my chest. “And it’s not you . . .” I don’t know how to finish my statement.
Tilting his head to the side, he levels me with a knowing look. “I’d never have thought the fierce leader of the Nactue shy.” But he doesn’t give me time to respond as he sinks beneath the surface of the water.
The cool sensation of the fresh water on my skin helps me forget my nerves and I lie back, floating just below the top of the water. My body dulls, the cold soothing my sore muscles, and I welcome the numbness. The ceiling of the cave is sprinkled with tiny clusters of white lights, dotting the canopy above our heads like stars in the sky. I feel as if I’m sitting on the rooftop of my apartment, staring at the night sky, not here in the Otherworld, awaiting my death.
The water rolls, rocking my body, and I glance over as Caben floats up beside me. He’s on his back also, and points to the lights dusting the cave ceiling.
“Diamonds,” he says.
“Really?” I don’t know much about any minerals other than mercury. And somehow, diamonds as our stars makes my chest heavy. It’s too beautiful. “How can you tell?”
“The ultraviolet light shows the impurities,” he says. “The imperfections actually absorb the dark light, causing the diamond to emit a visible glow.” He chuckles. “A very expensive lighting effect.”
I laugh. “Quite expensive.” They twinkle as they reflect the rippling water. “But almost more heavenly than the stars.” I lower my voice at the end, hoping he didn’t hear my spoken thoughts.
Caben doesn’t speak, and the trickling of the stream and lap of the pool becomes the only sound as we float in compatible silence. I could drift off, fall asleep in this peaceful place, but I know we still have a mission to complete before the Reckoning.
This thought awakens me, and I touch my feet to the bottom of the pool and begin to wade toward the edge.
I hear Caben’s heavy groan. “No you don’t,” he says, and captures the bottom of my tunic. He tugs me through the water, back to the pool’s center. “Not yet. This could be our last reprieve, and I plan for us to enjoy it.”
As I turn to face him, his fingers slip from my shirt to my waist, grazing my stomach. My skin prickles, and I shiver, matching the trembling water around us. His deep blue eyes meet mine, and he swallows, his Adam’s apple working. Slowly, he begins to inch up my tunic—
“Wait.” I place my hand on top of his.
He cranes an eyebrow. “It should really have time to dry before we go back.”
Logically, that makes sense. But the heated look he’s giving me says so much more. And regardless of the attraction I may feel for the prince—a woman would have to be blind—and whether or not we actually escape this hell . . . what then? We share an intimate moment once, and go back to our stations in life, simply pretending nothing happened?
Or maybe I’m reading too much into his gaze. He’s a man, and physical desire is self-serving. He may die . . . and he probably wants to bed a woman one last time. Everything about his character screams he’s not one who thinks past the moment.
I could lose myself for now, give in to the pulse quickening my blood with need, but I’ve never shown a man the clamp over my heart. It would have to be something I did for a different reason if I ever chose to do so. Not merely because I may die soon.
As I push his hand away and start to swim off, he grasps my waist, encircling his firm arms around my stomach, and pulls my back to his chest.
“Don’t run from me,” he breathes into my ear. “I’m not asking for anything. Not even whatever it is your hiding. Just stay here.”
His legs intertwine with mine, and I swallow down the burning lump that’s closing my throat and making it hard to breathe.
Caben holds me closer to him, his breath warm against my neck. “Before my father put my mother away, I took everything so seriously. She would make light of all situations, living life for the moment, and everyone was energized by her presence.” He pauses to pull air into his lungs, and his chest expands, pressing against my back. “But when her moods spiraled, the lights went out in her eyes, and her anger was a sharp contrast to her love. After a spell that left me permanently scared, my father removed her from the palace, and I was told I’d never see her again. That I had to focus on my obligations to my country, and family—especially those who need extra attention—were a distraction.” He laughs hollowly. “But, she’s also the reason why I steered clear of weapons—I don’t like them.”
My breaths become labored as I try to breathe normally. I close my eyes and feel the burn of threatening tears. Why is he telling me this? Don’t, Caben. Not now. Don’t choose now to drop your walls. We need them. I need them.
He continues, his voice strained. “I hated my father for choosing the kingdom over his family. For abandoning her, and for forcing me to do the same. I knew she never meant to harm me; it was the madness in her mind. And I thought becoming more like my carefree mother would keep me close to her while also punishing him. Only, when you speak of duty and loyalty, I realize that I’ve been doing her an injustice. I’ve been running.”
I wrap my arms around his and feel the tremor in his body. “Caben . . .”
He shakes his head, the rough, stubbled skin of his chin grazes my neck. “I abandoned my father when the Otherworl
ders attacked. I ran, left him there, but in my mind, I thought I was teaching him a lesson—showing him how it felt to have someone you trust dismiss you. But”—he releases a shaky breath—“I didn’t believe he’d be killed. I didn’t think the Otherworlders would get past the guards. Truly, I’m no better than him.”
Turning around in his arms, I bring my arms up and lock my hands on his face, forcing him to look into my eyes. “He told you to safeguard the crest. He wanted you to flee and to protect your kingdom. You did what was right, regardless if at the time you thought otherwise. You’re carrying around guilt that doesn’t belong to you.”
He squeezes his eyes closed and grips my waist. I can feel the fight in him, trying to let go of the shame he’s held on to since the death of his father. But I know how that shame, that guilt can become your world, and his pain sears me.
I trace my fingertips over the white scar along his cheekbone. “How old were you?”