"C— cliff?" she said, confused. How could she not sense that there was a cliff in front of her? She had strong vision. Once again, she strained her eyes but she couldn't see any cliff. She became sharply aware of his nearness.
"Look," Rolfe whispered and waved his hand in front of them. The ice crystals on the pine trees started glowing. The whole place got lit up brilliantly and Iona saw how the land curved and molded into a round over the edge. It faded down so gently that she would have never comprehended a steep fall over it.
She gasped. A shaky breath left her and she stuttered, "I— I didn't, I couldn't—."
He released her gently and she turned to thank him. And what a startling sight he was—healthy and tall and virile demon in his prime. With all those complex muscles he looked barbaric, but so beautiful. "Thank you," she said in a very low voice that was a little louder than a whisper. She wondered if every woman became hyper aware in his presence.
His lips tilted up in a smile. "That's fine," he said softly. He took his cloak out and wrapped her with it. "What are you doing out here?" he asked as he buttoned the collar, taking longer than usual. His knuckles brushed her chin and she stifled a moan. Was she going crazy?
She licked her dry lips as a blush rose on her cheeks. The ice crystals became dark again. She pulled the cloak tightly around her allowing herself to be surrounded in his pine and mist scent. She resisted the temptation to lift the fabric and smell it. The fabric was so soft that she became warm in a few seconds despite the chilly wind blowing around them. "I couldn't sleep," she said. How could she talk about the debauchery going in her tent?
A deep rumble rose from his chest that turned into an amused laughter. "I already warned you." He pointed towards his tent and said, "Come, you can sleep in my tent." He looked cautiously at her and then added, "If you like… else you will end up spending the whole night over here."
She didn't hesitate in nodding for she had grown to trust this man over the last few days. As she followed him through, the frost crunched under her bare feet. She could still hear the loud groans and moans of those in her tent and also a few other tents. Full-on debauchery… How demonic? She couldn't help judging.
When they reached his tent, Rolfe opened another bedroll and placed it on the ground. She started to walk to it when he stopped her. "No, you sleep on the bed, Iona."
"Oh no please," she countered. "I am absolutely fine here."
He shook his head, held her hand and tugged her to the bed. He made her sit there and then knelt down. Picking up her feet in his lap, he brushed aside the tiny ice crystals from them and massaged them with his hands.
"Please Rolfe, what are you doing?" she said as she tried to pull her feet away, but couldn't because of his firm grip.
"This place is going to give you frost bites if you walk like that," he said looking in her hazel eyes. And she became quiet, her breath lodged in her throat. Once he was satisfied that she was warm enough, he removed her cloak and tucked her beneath the blankets. He blew the candle on his writing desk and then slipped inside the bedroll.
As Iona lay on his bed, she couldn't help wondering if she was hallucinating or not. The prince was sleeping on the floor when he had a full bed for himself? She had never been treated so… tenderly except by her parents. How would he react if he came to know of her past, of Etaya...?
This attention was addictive and she would have tough time leaving. Was he like this to every woman? The thought sent a pang of jealousy in her heart. She turned to look at him and found that he was also staring in her direction.
"How old are you, Iona?" he asked gently.
"Eighteen…" she replied, a blush rising on her cheeks.
Too young. "Do you remember your education?"
She took a deep breath. "I think I never had a chance to be educated." She was only educated on how to become a vessel of dark spirits.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, as he rested his head on his palm.
"I— I lack knowledge…" As if to steer away from the painful conversation, she asked, "What about you?"
"I have been fortunate to get a good education, though unfortunately none of it is used practically in Galahar. There, one should know how to brawl, fight, drink or celebrate if you are a royal."
"What is your vision of Galahar?" she asked, feeling interested.
"My vision is to have a prosperous, self-sufficient Galahar. I want them to do away with traditional methods that has plunged them into more poverty and embrace new techniques." He let out a sigh. "But my father doesn't understand these things. I want my father to stop fighting and stop thinking that he should rule the Lore. If your people are not prosperous, who are you going to rule?"
"I am sure your people love you a lot."
He laughed softly. "I love them a lot. Sometimes I disguise myself and go inside the kingdom and help them out. Last month I helped a farmer with plumbing because his crop was getting killed due to water logging due to continuous rainfall. We got trenches made and directed the water to go down the mainstream." His mood became gloomy suddenly. "It took me months to design that and create the trenches in a way that it would benefit at least ten farms. But it took one night to destroy it all. the king sent his soldiers one night only to— only to—." His voice choked. "My father doesn't want to see development because then people will become aware and then they might revolt."
"How did you manage to get in and out?" she asked, totally impressed by him, but fearing for his life.
He chuckled. "I have ways." Rolfe didn't know why he was discussing things with her. She was a stranger and he was a rebel. He should be more cautious in opening to her just like he was to everyone else. "I hope I realize my dream one day." And I hope you don't go away. Suddenly he became restless to think that if she got her memory back, she would leave him. He clenched his jaws so tight that his teeth ached. "Sleep Iona…" He said and turned to the other side. Why was he feeling satisfied with the girl beside him, protected and safe? If only she was in his bed…
When Rolfe opened his eyes the next morning, he found Iona sitting at his writing desk. There was ink smudged all over her palms and fingers.
"What are you doing?" he asked with caution.
She whipped her head to look at him. "I found a way to create drains that would go undetected!" she said excitedly.
"How?" he rushed to her side and saw an impressive sketch of an intricately designed mesh of pipes. His eyes bulged.