Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
ALLETTE
Braith hides her face in her hands, muffling her words as she trudges up the hill from her sister’s burrow. “What was I thinking? My mum is going to have my head.”
While my friend is overcome with dread, my stomach leaps with giddy anticipation over showing Senan the start of my tattoo. After Regina picked her jaw off the floor and muttered an apology for her rude comments, she got straight to work on the lines for my new wings. With the special ointment she applied, they should be ready for color in a few days.
“Don’t worry. Your mother will never know,” I assure her.
Her hands fall but her head still hangs. “She always knows. It’s like she can smell when I’ve done something wrong.”
“But you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re a grown woman, and you got a tattoo—a beautiful one at that. It is small and discreet, and as long as you avoid stripping naked in front of Josie, she will never suspect a thing.”
Braith’s eyes swim with emotion, a smile playing on her lips as she seems to stand a little taller. “Do you really think it’s beautiful?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“I love it,” she says with a nod, sending her hair swinging. “Who knew being rebellious was so thrilling?”
So true. I’m not sure what my parents would have thought about my little act of rebellion, but Aunt Marjory would have loathed everything about my tattoo. I can almost hear her saying that no man would ever choose a wife who disgraced her body in such a way.
Clearly, she never had the pleasure of meeting Senan Vale.
We take a circuitous path back to the burrow, past a bustling pub built into the cave wall, through the empty marketplace, and between two knolls where a bunch of men shout and children squeal.
An entire cache of tiny wooden swords has been abandoned, presumably by the handful of children jumping up and down, screeching.
I’m about to turn away when I realize what they’re cheering for.
Senan hunches in the center of the mayhem, his face splattered with blood and one eye swollen shut while a silver-haired man wearing matching wounds circles him.
The basket I offered to carry tumbles to the ground.
What is he thinking? Everyone in the bloody burrows can see his face!
Braith forces her way through the crowd, shouting for folks to get out of the way. Aeron catches her arm, halting her mid-step. She glowers up at him with such venom, it’s a wonder he doesn’t let her go immediately.
Instead of shrugging him off, she twists back toward the altercation. “Iver! What in the heavens do you think you’re doing?”
Iver ? Don’t tell me Senan is fighting Braith’s brother. I leave him for a few hours, and this is what happens? I never liked the fact that the king saddled my prince with a guard, but it’s clear Senan needs a babysitter.
“Stop this instant!” I bellow.
Senan’s head snaps up, and when our gazes connect, the fool winks his only good eye.
My traitorous stomach flutters until Braith’s brother punches my mate in his. Senan bowls over, clutching his middle, his vicious curse sending a flash of anger through my chest.
Iver’s laughter booms through the cavern.
Senan catches him in a headlock, throwing all his weight into the move. They both crash to the ground, but Senan doesn’t let go and doesn’t ease his hold, keeping Iver face-down in the dirt until Iver’s hand starts tapping his knee.
They both fall onto their backs, staring up at the stalactites on the lofty cavern ceiling with smiles on their faces.
My prince has truly lost his mind.
Did he forget that we were meant to be lying low and not drawing attention to ourselves? Thank goodness Cadoc was taken into custody; otherwise, he’d probably hear the ruckus from Dread Row.
With the fight over, the crowd starts to disperse, giving me room to run to Senan’s heaving side. I drop to the rocky ground beside him. I don’t know whether to throttle the man or kiss him. “Are you all right? Your eye is swollen.”
His tongue sweeps across his teeth, clearing some of the blood there. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”
Braith stomps over to her brother, jabbing him in the ribs with the toe of her boot. “You are some gowl, Iver Nightingale.”
“The fuck, Braith?” Iver grunts, clutching his ribs.
Senan starts chuckling, and Iver rolls, punching him in the arm.
If this is what it’s like having brothers, I’m glad I have none.
I press a hand to Senan’s thigh, keeping him from retaliating. Although he glowers at Iver through his good eye, his fists remain firmly on the ground. “Why are the two of you fighting?”
Senan drags his forearm across his busted lip. “He thought I was sleeping with his sister.”
Iver’s face flushes. “Because you said you were, you bollocks.”
“No, I said that your sister and I were friends.”
“It’s not what you said, but the way you said it.”
All this carnage over a simple misunderstanding? I give Senan’s leg another nudge. “Did you not set him straight?”
A grin. “Look at his eye. You tell me.”
With a shake of her head, Braith presses her palm to her brow. “I will never understand how men rule this world with their epic stupidity.”
Senan’s hand curves around my waist, urging me closer, tugging me down to where his split lips wait. “This is what happens when you leave me to my own devices,” he murmurs against my mouth, tasting of blood and sweat. “I’m no good without you.”
“Can you not do that in public?” Aeron grumbles.
“I think it’s sweet,” Braith counters.
“You would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Terry ?”
Senan’s burst of laughter flutters my hair where it falls like a curtain around our faces. “ Ha . Terry. That will never get old.”
Aeron levels a thick finger at his brother. “Don’t you fucking start or I’ll close up that other eye.”
Senan pulls me down for one final kiss. “Where have you been?”
“We went to see Braith’s sister.”
“We got tattoos,” Braith adds.
Iver uses the hem of his shirt to dab at his bloody nose. “No fucking way. You got a tattoo?”
Aeron’s silver eyes widen. “Where?”
“As if I’d tell you,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
Senan’s face lights up like a child with a new toy, his hands burning like fire where he squeezes my hips. “I can’t wait to see yours.” When he tries to waggle his brows, only one moves.
I can’t wait to show him—after he’s cleaned up. Honestly, this man attracts trouble like a bloody magnet.
Aeron offers Senan a hand up, muttering something about his right hook being pathetic, to which Senan replies, “You’re pathetic,” and all seems to be put to rights.
My prince leaves to collect an enormous basket of fruit and veg. When I ask about it, he only shrugs and says he wanted to help.
On the walk back, Iver sidles up next to me, hand extended, bloody knuckles and all. “Iver Nightingale. And you are?”
“Save your breath,” Braith says, trailing behind us. “She’s not interested.”
“She might be,” Iver counters.
“She’s not,” I say. Still, I take his hand if only to keep the peace. “My name is Wynn.”
His grip tightens as he twists toward his sister. “Your friend from the castle?”
“One and the same,” Braith confirms.
I slip my hand from Iver’s, hoping that he doesn’t take offense when I scrub the blood from my palm onto my skirts. Yet another dress ready for the wash.
Iver jerks his chin toward where Aeron scowls. “Who the fuck are you?”
“My worst nightmare,” Braith says under her breath.
Aeron’s gaze snaps to her, a wicked twist to his lips. “Been dreaming about me, Braith?”
“Ways to kill you,” she says with a bat of her lashes.
To my dismay, Iver doesn’t seem inclined to leave. Instead, he follows us all the way to his parents’ home. Hopefully, he doesn’t try to make more trouble. We’ve had enough to last a lifetime.
Senan’s fingers dance along the small of my back, sending chills tingling down my spine. “So, about this tattoo of yours. Where is it?”
“Behave, and I’ll show you.”
Iver appears on my other side, like a stray dog desperate for a pat on the head. “Does that go for everyone, or…?”
Senan leans forward, his eyes narrowed. “Speak to her again, and I’ll use your head for target practice.”
“If your aim is as poor as your right hook, I’ll be just fine.”
These two. What is with them? “No more fighting. I mean it, Simon.”
Senan’s jaw snaps shut.
Iver snorts. “Cowed by a female. Pathetic.”
What’s pathetic is the way he keeps pushing Senan’s buttons. Is he this way with everyone? If so, Josie must’ve had her hands full with him growing up. Speaking of Josie, the front door swings open and Braith’s mother steps out, her hands flying to her heaving bosom as she lets out a tiny wail. “Saints above! What happened?”
Senan jabs a finger at Braith’s brother. “He attacked me for no reason.”
“Iver James Nightingale,” Josie clips. “Have you lost the run of yourself altogether? I taught you better than this.”
“Now who’s cowed,” Senan murmurs under his breath.
“Come in, you poor thing.” Josie takes Senan by the hand, cooing at him while her own son trails behind, looking fit to explode. “Have a seat there next to my terrible boy and let me find you something for the pain before the bruising sets in.”
Senan sinks onto the sofa, fighting a smile, no doubt loving being pampered. Josie whirls on her son. “On the couch, Iver.”
“I’m not sitting next to that Scathian bastar?—”
“Get your arse on the bloody couch, or so help me…”
Iver drops like a stone, glancing away as his mother bustles into the kitchen. Seeming satisfied that his brother isn’t going to cause a ruckus in here, Aeron stalks down the hallway toward the bedroom he slept in last night. Braith leaves as well, heading in the opposite direction.
Josie returns clutching a bowl to her chest. She goes to Senan first, and when he sees what’s inside, he tries telling her that he’s all right.
He might as well be speaking to the wall for all the attention she pays him. Using her fingers, she carefully smears green goop over his eye.
What did she put in the stuff? It smells rotten.
Satisfied by her work, Josie steps over to her son and slaps the goo over Iver’s wounds.
“Ouch, Mum! That hurts.”
She dips her hand into the bowl for more, this time smearing it across Iver’s broken lip. “Good.”