Chapter 11
Gerard had built a reputation as a patient man but a relentless opponent.
At the close of the first day of trials in the Tournament of Leaves, he had to exercise every ounce of his patience to wait through the hours of celebratory feasting that were apparently deemed necessary.
As massive bonfires shot hot orange sparks impossibly high into the darkness, he ate delectable new food with methodical precision, watched the flying, dancing, and celebrating fae all around him with courteous attention, and refused to acknowledge any of the deeply disturbing feelings trying to riot underneath his skin.
When the feasting did finally come to a close, it was followed by a full hour of matchless singing from eerily beautiful fae voices and then a demonstration of new magics from younger members of the court.
Illusion followed upon staggering illusion; wonder eclipsed breathtaking wonder; and he took it all in with the air of impenetrable calm he’d perfected decades earlier.
Only inside were his emotions heating to a boiling point.
After every disorienting turn of this day, he had questions that needed answers. Patient or not, he would not wait forever to claim solid ground once more!
Lorelei had been flitting from one bonfire to another all night long, shining and gay and carefree in the leaping light of the flames, like a colorful butterfly that could never be pinned down.
Everywhere she went, she was greeted by cries of welcome from creatures of all shapes and descriptions; everyone she spoke to was the glad recipient of her glowing, vibrant warmth.
… Everyone except the lord of this tournament, who lounged in his seat of honor at the top bonfire, surrounded by sycophants but with his brooding gaze turned all too often upon Lorelei.
At long last, the bonfires were subdued.
At Oberon’s drawled command, the surrounding trees withdrew in a splendidly slow and grand procession to reveal a second field laid out beyond.
This one was already covered in spacious silk tents, each dimly lit from within by flickering lights and tethered to the ground with gold and silver ropes.
Lorelei appeared by Gerard’s side as he stood at one corner of the field to study them.
“Shall we, darling?” Casually linking one small arm with his, she started forward with a confident bounce. “Of course, we can take separate tents if you prefer, but—”
“No.” His voice was hard as he allowed her to pull him forward. “We’ll take the same tent,” he told her flatly.
“Really?” She blinked, sending rainbows sparkling between them in the darkness.
“I mean, how terribly sensible of you! So, you’ve finally realized I’m irresistible?
” With a feigned sigh—and her tongue clearly firmly in cheek—she shook her head.
“My beauty can be a true curse, I confess, but of course I understand. You’ve been so tightly laced for so very long, you must have an enormous amount of energy to work off.
You poor man! We should probably get some sleep before tomorrow’s challenges, but if you really must insist on being ravished first, I’m sure I could force myself to—”
Gerard cut off her teasing without the slightest compunction.
“We need to talk.” He lifted the silk door of the closest empty tent and gazed over her head at the field they’d left behind.
In the distance, he found Lord Oberon watching, as he’d expected.
“… Alone,” he finished grimly and followed Lorelei inside.
As the door fell closed once more behind him, the shifting lights within the tent were revealed to be dancing streaks of blue flame that swirled through the air in a sinuous circle beneath the peak of the pointed silk roof.
Despite their odd color, they cast more than enough light to illuminate a giant, bed-shaped pile of autumn leaves and blankets that covered most of the floor, like a wild creature’s nest.
“Oh, how lovely! This really will be cozy.” Lorelei collapsed onto the makeshift bed with a sigh of delight, splaying her limbs wide across the piled blankets and wriggling luxuriantly to create a hollow within them.
Gerard, on the other hand, was all too pricklingly aware that their forms must be perfectly outlined for any hostile observer to see through the walls of the tent.
He remained stiffly standing on the empty patch of floor, his hands tightly linked behind his back and his gaze fixed on her face with an intense effort of will.
“Is there any way to shut off those lights?”
“The will-o’-the-wisps, you mean?” Lorelei turned to blink up at him, loose blonde curls falling over her cheek as she nestled among the blankets and leaves, looking perfectly relaxed …
and far too inviting. “Why would you want even more darkness? Darling, if you feel self-conscious about the way you look, I can’t begin to imagine—”
“Lorelei.” It was the first time he’d ever called her by her name without its title, and it snapped out without his conscious intention.
He barely even took in the startled widening of her eyes as he fought to regain control over his surging temper—and other, more disturbingly physical sensations.
“Enough teasing,” he gritted. “You can’t avoid a serious conversation any longer. ”
“Oh, very well.” Rolling her eyes, she lifted herself up on one elbow and waved her other hand in a flowing, beckoning motion.
The ground shuddered underneath Gerard’s feet. An instant later, shadows shot up every side of the tent, new leaves rustling noisily against the silk, and solid branches clamping tightly into place to form an impenetrable lattice all around it.
It was an awe-inspiring demonstration of her power—and he clenched down hard against the flare of arousal that could not be allowed in response.
“There,” said Lorelei. “Now no one can see inside to know what we’re doing …
or not doing, as the case may be.” There was a distinctly mocking light in her expression as she tsk’d up at him in the dim light of the still-dancing will-o’-the-wisps.
“And here I thought you were always so careful to maintain your perfect reputation above all. Are you finally ready to join me in the joys of scandal?”
Jovar preserve me! All arousal disappeared as Gerard’s spine snapped tight, old panic rising to clog his throat with unrelenting force.
Scandal and ruin and the price of weakness …
He had also learned long ago, though, how to resist being baited into falling apart for anyone else’s entertainment.
Setting his jaw, Gerard waited until he could be assured of full control over his voice.
Then he said, with perfect calm, “I thought we should avoid any onlookers—or eavesdroppers—sharing in our discussion of today’s events and tomorrow’s strategy. ”
That much was true and reasonable. The fact that he’d felt the weight of Lord Oberon’s gaze on his captor like a burning brand, impossible either to ignore or to accept, could have nothing to do with it …
nor with the fact that, until Lorelei’s reminder, he hadn’t even considered the propriety of enclosing himself in a small, intimate space with the woman whose actions supplied the most scandalous stories to circulate across the continent each year.
… Oh, damn it, no. He might be able to fool her, but he would not pretend to fool himself.
He’d spent decades operating with perfect caution and propriety, but tonight, all he’d cared about in that moment of choice was shielding her, his outrageous abductress and longtime nemesis, from that fae lord’s bitter and hungry observation.
Everything was off-kilter … especially the inexplicable emotions that kept trying to pierce his shield of self-control whenever he looked at her now, after all the trials they’d completed together.
And when he remembered the way she’d looked earlier, bright joy lighting up her face as she’d handed him that silver feather…!
They truly had shared a shining victory, and it had felt …
It had felt …
Gerard winced as the weight of unacceptable truth crashed through him. Jovar forgive him, it had all felt right for one impossibly perfect moment that had shaken all his foundations.
Queen Lorelei of Balravia, as he’d been reminding himself every day of the past seven years, was widely known to be selfish and fickle, ruled by her own vanity and any passing moment’s whim.
She wasn’t meant to be the loyal friend he’d witnessed in action at the Kitvarian border, standing strong by the sides of her fellow Queens of Villainy and defending the gentle Estarian Archduke.
Nor was she meant to be warm and generous in victory—much less the best partner ever to fight at his side, catching his every strategic intent without a word and following it up with her own brilliant flashes of inspiration.
He’d already known that she could read him far too well; until today, he’d never expected to take pleasure from that fact.
He could never have expected the intoxicating, illicit, unforgivable thrill that he would feel when they worked in tandem.
Perhaps it was only due to her skills at illusion-spinning.
He’d been telling himself that all night long …
but the need to know for certain was so intense now that he had to stiffen the muscles in his legs to keep safely to his position, standing upright and steadfastly away from the bed where she lounged so decadently before him, like a painting of temptation.
“Ugh, you and your endless strategies.” She sank back into a fully prone position, stretching her arms above her head and sighing. “We did well enough today without planning ahead of time, didn’t we?”
“Did we?” He arched his eyebrows meaningfully. “As I recall, you hadn’t expected to see Lord Oberon—and you didn’t seem best pleased that he forced you into entering the tournament after all.”