He had told her he was leaving, but she hadn’t believed it would be this soon— then again, she didn’t know what time it was, nor how long she’d been asleep.
“I’m sorry, I was just going back—” Luna pointed in the direction she meant. It wasn’t fear that had her wanting to get back to her room, but anxiousness of what was coming next.
Uilleam had seemed rather open, at least—or rather open about his intentions. Kit, and now Aidra … she couldn’t glean a thing.
“Please, have a seat. Nix should be along shortly,” Aidra offered as she gestured to one of the many seats available.
“Nix?”
“Kit,” she explained, though her mouth twisted when she said his name, as though she weren’t accustomed to using it.
“Is that a nickname?” Luna asked, wondering why it seemed as though everyone she was meeting went by something other than their real name.
“A moniker, if you will. It helps to conceal your identity,” Aidra explained further, also answering the question she hadn’t asked.
“And do you have one?” It only seemed right that she would.
“I’ve never had need of one.”
Luna waited, thinking she would elaborate, but Aidra didn’t. It took her a moment to realize that her response hadn’t actually answered her question.
Maybe she just didn’t want to share it with Luna.
Was she Kit’s wife? Was this their home that Uilleam had dumped her in and she wasn’t pleased?
Yet she was being cordial, nice even, without a hint of malice in her tone at all.
Strange. It was all very strange.
Glancing down at her own attire—the same short dress from before—then around the dining room once more, Luna felt self-conscious. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m not really dressed—”
“Don’t worry. Uilleam called ahead to let us know you were coming. I’ve had a few things ordered that should arrive tomorrow. For now, don’t concern yourself with that.”
While there was no sympathy in the woman’s eyes, there was also no pity—Luna couldn’t say she minded.
“Are you Kit’s wife?” Luna asked.
Aidra’s careful mask of indifference slipped as she looked quite shocked at the question. “Assistant would be a better term.”
Speaking of him, Kit came around the corner, his gaze immediately falling on Luna. Gone was his black on black ensemble, replaced with gray trousers and a white shirt that was neatly tucked inside them, the top button near the collar left undone.
There was something different about the way he looked at her now. Curiosity was still present, sure, but there was something else there—something that told her he knew about where she’d come from.
Uilleam had told him, as she thought he would.
Would he treat her differently now?
“Good evening, Luna.”
Kit didn’t have a voice like any other she had ever heard. It was rich, a decadent sound that was pleasing to the ear. Even his cadence, something she had never really paid attention to was nice.
A part of her had hoped that Uilleam would be walking in behind him, her gaze skirting past him to the dark hallway.
“Looking for someone?” he asked.
“Is the Kingmaker coming back?”
His expression turned thoughtful. “Most aren’t keen on remaining in Uilleam’s company. Is there something you need?”
It wasn’t that she needed anything in particular, but rather that she was a bit nervous about being alone with him though she had no reason to be.
She would have asked if she could just skip whatever dinner he was having and retreat back to her room, but her stomach chose that moment to growl louder than she had ever heard it before.
“Come,” he said with his arm outstretched, but just before his fingers could come in contact with her skin, he looked down at her and asked, “May I?”
She hadn’t forgotten the way she jerked away from him earlier in the hallway, or his apology after.
And now he was asking permission to touch her again …
Such an innocent thing, but it meant more to her than she could ever put into words.
Giving the slightest of nods, she waited for the moment she felt his touch, just the slightest pressure on her back before she started toward the table and away from the spot she’d been standing in for the longest time.
He pulled her chair out, pushing it forward once she was seated, then circled to take his own seat at the head of the table where the place setting was waiting.
It shouldn’t have been anything difficult, sitting at a table to eat like a normal person, but she almost felt clumsy as she adjusted in the chair.
Over the last few years, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate at a table as opposed to on the floor. Sitting there, she felt out of place, like she didn’t belong.
“Have you any allergies?” Kit asked, resting his elbows on the table. “Best I know now lest I kill you by mistake.” When she winced, he amended, “Poor choice of words.”
“Nothing that I’m aware of,” she answered, voice barely above a whisper.