Chapter 127: SHELTER

DIANA’S POV

The north relay shelter had been built for stranded couriers, road crews, and anyone unfortunate enough to discover Blackharrow’s mountains had closed the route before they finished using it.

Tonight, it had acquired a Grand Duke and Grand Duchess instead.

The relay keeper had already settled Diana’s Household Guards in the outer security alcove when he opened the only heated inner chamber.

"One stove, Your Grace. Dry relay clothes in the storage chest. I’ll be outside with your guards if you need anything."

Diana looked past him.

One table stood under the window, two narrow sleeping benches occupied opposite walls, and a wash basin sat behind a hanging partition that provided exactly as much privacy as emergency architecture considered necessary.

Raigoro glanced toward the storm striking the shutters.

He had intended to walk Diana here and return to Hollow Bridge. The keeper closed the inner door behind them instead, leaving the guards and himself in the outer alcove while Diana and Raigoro remained in the only heated room.

Diana removed her gloves as warmth returned painfully to her fingers.

Across the chamber, Raigoro took off his outer coat. Water ran from the hem and struck the floor.

His shirt was wet across one shoulder and down the side that had taken most of the wind during their walk.

Raigoro had spent nearly two miles keeping himself between Diana and the storm.

He caught her looking.

"The keeper said there are dry clothes."

Diana nodded.

Apparently, sensible things became more complicated when they required Raigoro to remove clothing in a room containing two beds and one closed door.

He found a folded shirt in the storage chest and disappeared behind the wash partition.

Diana opened the Hollow Bridge notes.

Work.

Excellent.

The first line concerned wagon-weight discrepancies.

Wet fabric shifted behind the partition.

Diana reached the end of the sentence and discovered she had retained none of it.

Ridiculous.

Raigoro had possessed shoulders throughout their entire marriage. Diana had been aware of them.

He emerged before she successfully read the line again.

The relay shirt fit badly. It pulled across his shoulders and stopped short at the wrists, making the entire garment look as though it had lost an argument.

Diana returned to her notes.

"Problem?"

She shook her head.

Raigoro glanced down at the shirt. "I agree."

Diana suppressed a smile.

The exchange felt familiar enough to catch her off guard.

For days, every unnecessary thing between them had disappeared. The questions, dry remarks, walks that lasted longer than the corridor required, and quiet time beside Vharos after everyone else left had all vanished.

One badly fitted shirt had restored approximately four words.

Raigoro crossed to the far side of the stove and opened his own papers.

The careful distance returned.

The chamber was small enough that avoiding someone required effort, yet Raigoro still managed to leave Diana a clear path between the table, stove, door, and her side of the room.

Diana had noticed the pattern too many times to dismiss it now.

For a while, they worked.

Raigoro worked.

Diana attempted it.

The storm pushed against the shutters while the muted voices of her guards and the keeper occasionally carried through the inner door. Safety remained close, but the chamber itself belonged only to Diana and Raigoro.

He turned a page.

Diana knew because she had been watching him instead of her own.

Absurd.

She had seen those hands hold reins, swords, reports, maps, and her waist during the opening married set. A borrowed shirt should not have made them newly interesting.

Raigoro looked up.

Diana lowered her eyes too late.

"You have been on the same page for some time."

She took her slate.

COMPLICATED.

Diana looked down at the same useless page.

Several minutes later, Raigoro added wood to the stove, checked the vent, and inspected both shutter latches even though the keeper had already secured them.

Perhaps Diana was not the only person grateful for harmless things to do with her hands.

Eventually, she sat on the bench nearest the stove.

Raigoro glanced between the two sleeping spaces.

"You take that one."

It was warmer.

Naturally.

Diana wrote:

YOU WALKED ON THE WINDWARD SIDE.

"Yes."

YOU ARE WETTER.

"Yes."

THEN YOU TAKE IT.

"No."

Diana stared at him.

She wrote:

TYRANT.

"Frequently."

Diana smiled before she could stop herself.

The storm continued striking the shutters, and the stove clicked softly as the iron expanded with heat. Neither sound made the room feel less private.

Raigoro returned to his papers.

Diana did the same.

Neither appeared to make much progress.

Eventually, she rose to add another log to the stove, partly because it needed one and partly because remaining seated had become unbearable.

A line of melted snow had spread from Raigoro’s coat across the floor.

Diana stepped into it.

Her boot slipped.

Raigoro caught her before she hit the stone.

His arm closed around her waist while Diana caught his shoulder with one hand and pressed the other against his chest.

Her balance returned.

Raigoro did not release her.

Diana felt his warmth through the borrowed shirt and the movement of his breathing under her palm.

He looked down at her.

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

The wet floor ceased to matter.

The dance had given them rules. His hand had belonged at her waist because the figure required it, and every step had told them when to move closer and when to separate.

No dance governed them now.

Diana wanted him to kiss her.

She knew it before she could become frightened of knowing it.

Raigoro leaned closer.

Only slightly.

His eyes returned to hers.

Diana stayed where she was.

The remaining distance narrowed.

Raigoro stopped.

His arm loosened, and he stepped away.

Diana immediately missed his hand.

Worse, she had seen him begin to close the distance before choosing not to.

Raigoro picked up the wood she had dropped and put it into the stove.

"The floor is wet."

Diana stared at him.

Brilliant.

She took out her slate.

WHY DID YOU STOP?

Raigoro read the question before glancing toward the wet floor.

"Because you were standing."

Diana considered throwing the chalk at him.

She erased the question and wrote:

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Raigoro said nothing.

He knew.

Diana hesitated before writing again.

WEEKS AGO.

Then:

STAYING.

ASKING.

The last word took longer.

ME.

Raigoro read the slate.

The dry humor had left his voice when he answered.

"I asked you who you were."

Diana knew which night he meant.

His study. The authenticated record. His question after showing her exactly what he knew.

He had asked privately after telling her she would not be sent back and making clear Alma was safe.

Diana had still written Selena.

Raigoro looked toward the stove.

"I was not going to punish you for that."

Diana stared at him.

"But I was also not going to keep reaching into places you clearly did not want me."

Diana looked at him.

Raigoro’s expression did not change.

"Because you asked for distance."

Her chalk moved immediately.

I NEVER SAID THAT.

"No."

His gaze dropped briefly to the slate.

"You told me who you were willing to be with me. I asked for the truth, and you gave me Selena."

Diana’s fingers tightened around the chalk.

Raigoro continued before she could mistake the words for accusation.

"I believed you had the right to decide how much farther I was allowed to come."

Diana looked at the space he had kept between them all evening.

The opposite sleeping bench. The far side of the stove. The clear paths he had left whenever the room forced them near each other.

Then there were the questions he had stopped asking after that night.

Diana had noticed every absence and treated each one as evidence that perhaps none of it had mattered to him as much as she had believed.

His answer changed what those absences meant.

Raigoro had offered no reassurance about what he felt now. He had said nothing about his anger or whether he still wanted her.

He had only explained why he stopped.

The storm continued beyond the shutters. The road remained blocked, her guards and the relay keeper remained in the outer alcove, and two sleeping benches waited against opposite walls.

Raigoro stayed where he was.

Diana did the same.

Understanding why he had withdrawn did not erase the reason for it. She had answered Selena when he asked for the truth, and Raigoro had refused to pretend otherwise.

Diana remembered his arm remaining around her waist after she regained her balance.

His gaze had dropped to her mouth.

He had begun moving closer.

Then he had chosen to stop.

Whatever remained between them, indifference could no longer explain the distance.

Eventually, Raigoro moved his papers from the colder sleeping bench and set them on the table.

"You should take the warm side."

Diana looked at him.

He lowered the lamp without looking back.

The stove gave the room its only light as Diana settled onto the warmer bench and Raigoro took the one across from her.

Only a few steps separated them.

For days, Diana had feared his distance meant there was nothing left for him to cross.

Tonight, the distance meant something else.

Diana remained awake much longer because of it.