Corrupted: An Epic Dragons and Immortals Romantic Fantasy (Fallen Emrys Chronicles Book 1) E.E. Everly (best biographies to read .TXT) 📖

I nodded.

Kenrik glanced my way before continuing. “I have dreams. Being the second son of a king, you see, I didn’t expect to become one. I made my own plans—to fall in love, to have an estate in the north with my wife and son. I can picture it. The rugged highlands with my herds of sheep. Wind practically whipping laundry out of my wife’s hands while she hangs it. My young son chasing chickens in the yard and my wife scolding him. I’d teach him to hunt and track. I’d come home at night and lie with my family on a fur rug near the hearth, just holding them. They’d smell like dew and wildflowers. Is that too provincial?”

“Not at all. You can’t picture yourself ruling a kingdom?”

“If I do marry Tiwlip, my rule wouldn’t be for long. Once Brenin was old enough, he’d become king. But the lowlands are not my home. This is my home.”

My shoulders drooped. Home. Gorlassar was my home. Was. “It’s not easy to leave one’s home.”

“Why’d you do it? Why would you leave an immortal paradise?”

Brenin was marching his livestock up Kenrik’s shin. He handed a cow to Kenrik, who mooed and marched the cow over Brenin’s forehead.

“You’re not the only one who can’t marry whomever she wants,” I said.

“You’re in love?” Kenrik asked.

“Was.” Everything was past tense. “Was in love, I think. I was stupid to believe a relationship with him would work.”

Kenrik’s eyes lit with understanding. “So that’s why you left. What did you do? Confess your feelings and he didn’t return them?”

“Exactly that.”

“And you ran to us. Should I be flattered?”

“Kenrik, I didn’t know what I’d find in this world. And I’m not seeking love. Just life.”

Brenin dropped his toys, climbed onto his cousin’s lap, and pulled on a string around Kenrik’s neck. “Show me the rainbow again.”

Kenrik lifted the string off his neck and over his head. A triangular prism was attached to the end. “I can’t. There’s no sunlight today.”

“I can show you. Hold the prism out.” I brought light into my palm and sent a beam at the prism.

The glass dispersed the pure white light into a ribbon of color. Brenin held his hand up, and the colors shone across his palm.

“You actually are a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, Niawen,” Kenrik said. “How does your light work?”

“Shine the light here!” Brenin jumped up and angled the prism so the rainbow would shine on his farm. I shifted the beam to comply.

“The Master of Light gave us, the emrys, His light. I hold a portion in my heart-center, or you might say, my spiritual center. It’s supposed to be used to protect the dragons, but light has many other uses. Even though the dragons are safe in Gorlassar, we’ve been taught to be prepared to use it.”

“That’s why you’re a warrior,” Kenrik said.

“Don’t remind me.”

“How are you recovering?”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“You seem fine, but you’re not. I can tell you’re hiding your distress. I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me.”

“Kenrik, I feel hollow.”

“Let yourself grieve a little longer,” he said. “Then we can work on healing. But don’t hide your grief from me. All right?”

“All right.”

“If you’re breaking down, you can come to me, anytime, day or night.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” I asked. “I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you in such a way.”

He sighed. “Tiwlip has brought Brenin to me in the middle of the night.” Kenrik lowered his voice so Brenin wouldn’t hear. “He cries with nightmares.”

“That’s sweet. She really does rely on you.”

“A bad habit that’s going to be hard to break.”

“You don’t think you could love her?” I asked. “Not even to take care of Brenin?”

Bored with the prism, Brenin wandered over to a window and huffed his breath on the glass. He drew squiggly patterns.

Kenrik scratched a fingernail over the fabric of his breeches, worrying the material. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You probably shouldn’t lead them on much longer.”

“Then I’m a fool. If I tell her now, I’ll have to endure her heartache over the winter. It’s too late for them to return to Hyledd. And if I delay all winter, then I tear her heart out before she leaves.”

“Tell her sooner rather than later, Kenrik. Keeping the truth makes telling it more difficult in the end. Trust me.”

Kenrik nodded. “Since we are exchanging confidences, Niawen, I’ll tell you something so you can prepare yourself. Given how you’ve been through a recent trauma and how you’ve admitted you’ve been in love, you must know.”

A slight irritation niggled Kenrik, and concern drifted from him.

“What is it? You’re making me stress.”

“He’s going to ask you to marry him.”

I choked on my own saliva and immediately coughed. “Who?”

“Niawen, are you all right?” Kenrik asked.

“Who?” I beat on my chest.

“Kelyn.”

I squeaked. “You can’t be serious. Kelyn won’t ask me to marry him. He can’t. I’m not ready!”

“He’ll wait until you’re ready. Believe me.”

“Kenrik! I can’t marry Kelyn. He wants to marry me because I’m special. He doesn’t love me.”

“He’s the crown prince,” Kenrik said. “He gets everything he wants.”

I sensed an edge to Kenrik’s emotions. Resentment. Jealousy. “And you don’t?”

“Even if I held every rightful, noble, and tender sentiment or longing over Kelyn’s shallow, meaningless ones, Kelyn gets precedence.”

Oh. My mind recalled Kenrik’s words beside Seren. To his touch of hope when I healed Sorfrona. To his faith in my capabilities. To all the meaningful glances during meetings and training.

Kenrik was falling hard for me.

Oh. Oh!

He had declared himself, and I was too blind.

Kenrik squeezed his eyes shut. “Forget