Thankfully, there’s not a wraith in sight. Something tells me they wouldn’t be hanging around this highbrow place. The two I saw seemed more like henchmen than partiers.
After about an hour of exhausting smiles and nods, I’m more than relieved when Aelia and her vapid coven approach me with cocktails in their hands.
“Wow, you did phenomenal,” Aelia says, breathless. “Word is, you’re total hot real estate, girl. Seriously. Awesome job.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I say.
She grabs Faelan’s arm, her eyes alight. “Holy Danu, Faelan, you have them talking, brazenly coming out with her onto the balcony. They all think you’re vying for rank again.” She seems to be enjoying this whole thing a lot.
Faelan frowns at her, not a fan.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “I didn’t want people thinking he was my slave or something.”
Aelia gives us a giddy look. “Well, it’s juicy. The girls and I are going to do one more circle around the room, and this time you’re coming, Sage.” When I open my mouth to protest, she adds quickly, “You’ll be perfectly safe now that the protector bond is set, so no excuses. Faelan will be right here.”
I glance at Faelan, hoping for help, but he betrays me, agreeing with her. “Go ahead, I’ll be watching.”
I glare at him and say, “No, thanks. I’ll just stick with Faelan.”
“No arguing, this is a thing,” Aelia says, kissing my cheek. “I’ll be back in ten after a quick makeup refresher.” Then she and her coven are lost in the gathering crowd.
“Thanks a lot,” I say. “Way to save me.”
“May as well just go along for tonight,” Faelan says. “Maybe you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“Wow, some warrior you are. Can’t even stand up to a tiny teen girl.”
“Aelia?” he asks. “That wee thing is terrifying.”
“I bet you don’t call her wee to her face.”
“Gods, no.”
Not as many heads turn toward me as we wander through the crowd. I seem to blend in better without a large Faelan shadow. Instead, I follow Aelia and her coven as they filter through the bodies, listening to the snatches of gossip I hear buzzing around us.
There’s a pale young woman talking about how she’s having trouble with her garden, asking for advice from what looks like a pixie. A guy is getting scolded by an older man for not disposing of his “meal” properly—and I don’t think he’s talking about a plate of spaghetti. Two females are whispering about how mind-blowing some guy named Finbar is in bed—
Whoa, wait, isn’t that Faelan’s brother?
I pause, loitering near a tree. Totally not snooping. I’m just taking a break.
Aelia and the other girls keep walking, not realizing that I’ve stopped. I let them go, sticking to the shadows.
“You know he’s bargaining for a Bond,” one of the gossiping females says. She’s a pixie; her wings have a slight blue tint to them in the light. “Hopefully they won’t tame him, whoever they are.”
The other female shakes her head like she’s disappointed. “I was a little surprised he didn’t choose Astrid when he had a chance. She was all over him just after they took her in as a ward. I assumed he was grooming her.”
“Word is he tasted from that vine but wasn’t willing to take his brother’s leftovers on permanently.” The first girl raises her brow conspiratorially.
The other girl scoffs. “Apparently the second son doesn’t have that problem.”
“Well, Prince Duncan is notoriously gullible.”
“Obviously.”
And they both giggle as they wander away.
Wow, sounds like Faelan dodged a bullet.
I lean on the tree, deciding not to go back into the crowd. It’s nice here, just out of the way. People walk by now and then, engrossed in their conversations, but no one seems to notice me. Leaves rustle with the light breeze blowing through the courtyard. The air is a little chilly, but not cold. I fold my arms across my chest, rubbing my upper arms as I look over the crowd and watch the flirting, the glares, the games.
And then I spot Faelan on the other side of the courtyard. I let myself look at him, admiring his tall figure, his shoulders perfectly shaped in that black sweater. I try not to think about how it felt to grip them, his hands holding me close, the taste of his minty-green energy in my skin. Why does he have to be so freaking good-looking? Why couldn’t my first real kiss have been a skinny nerd instead of him? How am I ever going to follow that up?
His features shift like he spotted someone, a fierce look filling his face as he glares at a woman walking toward him. She comes into view, stopping at his side. I can only see the back of her head, but I know right away who it is with that long golden braid curling over her shoulder.
Astrid.
My gut sinks, watching them connect. Even though he’s looking at her like she murdered his dog, I know it takes a lot of history to make that kind of animosity grow between two people.
He says something sharp to her and then turns to walk away, but she touches his arm, stopping him.
His features soften as his eyes fall on her again, and my nerves spark. Don’t give in, Faelan!
He listens to her for a few seconds, and I can’t believe it, but he nods. What could he possibly be agreeing to with that woman? Could he really be dumb enough to buy anything she says?
“Predictable,” I mutter.
“What is?” comes a smooth voice behind me.
I gasp and jerk back as I turn. Kieran is cast in shadow, close enough to touch me. He moves into the light, attempting to see who I was looking at. “Spying, are we?”
I try to swallow but my throat is a desert. The torchlight flickers over his face, softening his features. It casts gold into his hair and makes his silver eyes almost glow.
“Your protector seems preoccupied,” he says. His gaze moves to me. “He’s left you unattended.”
I press my back into the tree. I don’t trust myself to open my mouth to speak. I might scream at him.
“Don’t be afraid, little doe. What happened last night won’t repeat itself.” He steps closer, saying in a low voice, “I truly am sorry to have frightened you. Perhaps I should have approached things differently.”
“You killed me,” I manage to say.
He searches my face and then glances down to my hand. “I see you’re still holding my tribute. Would you let me put it on for you?”
My insides quiver. I shake my head.
He reaches out and gently slides his finger across my knuckle. “It can give you peace. Won’t you trust me, just a little?”
“Never,” I say, but the word seems to float away, meaning nothing, so I add, “Leave me alone.”
“But I can’t. I’m yours and you are mine. There’s no running from that.” He leans closer, nudging my fingers open. “I think you feel it too. I sense your need. I have it inside me as well.” He pulls the velvet sack from my grip. “And yet I know you despise me. So let me help you.”
I just shake my head. “You want revenge,” I say. “My sister killed your brother, and you want to drive me crazy for it.”
He studies my face, conflict in his features. He doesn’t deny it.