13. Isla
13
ISLA
T hough the sun doesn’t dip beneath the horizon, the air grows noticeably cooler the deeper we trek beneath the fir canopy. It slinks through my shirt and nestles inside my boots, numbing my raw feet.
“What I wouldn’t give to be sitting in your steam chamber right about now,” I muse.
Although I suggested making him invisible, he dismissed my offer. Apparently, the woods here are patrolled by the Fae, so even if he were to be spotted—which is likely, considering the blunt color of his getup—all he’d suffer would be a little ridicule for his choice of accoutrement.
On that note… “Are your ass cheeks freezing?”
Konstantin coughs. “What?” Cough. “My—” Cough. “What?”
I smirk at his discomfiture. “Didn’t your pants rip when you sat down earlier?”
“Oh.” The corners of his mouth hook up ever so slightly. “I do believe it’s the first time anyone has enquired after my ass . Much less worried about it being cold.”
“I’m considerate like that.”
We drift back into silence for a while, but then the question I’ve been meaning to ask since we left the tavern prickles my mind. Given how isolated we are, it feels like as good a time as any.
“Is Salom truly a butcher?”
“He’s worked for my family for three centuries.” I frown, until he tacks on, “He doesn’t kill out of spite or for sport. It just comes with the job description.”
That reassures me immensely. Especially since Bisnonno holds Salom in high esteem, and my great-grandfather doesn’t have any regard for people who dole out unjustified punishment because of their rank.
“Is Salom aware you impersonated Lev?”
“No.”
“So no one’s looking for you?”
“I’m not a child, Miss Ríhbiadh.”
“True, but you are the king. If my father vanished, my mother would immediately sound an alarm.”
“I don’t have a wife.”
“But you have siblings who care enormously for you.”
“All of them are younger.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, they don’t feel a responsibility to keep me safe.”
“So no one’s wondering where you could be right now?”
“I didn’t say they weren’t wondering. I’m just saying they’re not blaring any alarms. However, if I don’t show up by tomorrow night, Izolda will certainly come looking for me herself.”
How depressing. If Naeva hadn’t explained that I wasn’t to be disturbed during my date with Lev, my grandfather would be canvasing all of Glace at the moment. Honestly, I’m a little surprised he didn’t do a fly-by to check on how my date was going.
Which, if I’m being honest, is why I’ve chosen to remain invisible.
I grimace as I realize how angry he’ll be when he learns that I lied. Then again, I’ve made a few discoveries and planted a listening sigil. Perhaps he’ll call me clever too? One can hope.
I catch Konstantin tracking my footprints in the snow, clearly still skeptical about my promise to remain at his side. “Have you come up with a good story for why you went for a solitary stroll through the woods, while wearing inadequate hiking gear?”
One of his eyebrows wings up. “Solitary?”
“If you mention I was with you, I’ll get into loads of trouble with my grandfather who believes me to be on a date with Lev.”
Konstantin’s jaw tightens. “I thought you were going to tell your parents about our findings.”
“I will, but they’ll keep my secret. If my grandfather finds out that I fibbed in order to wander around, he’ll glue himself to my person until I depart your kingdom.” With a touch of levity, I add, “Have you ever tried socializing and dancing with a big angry bird stuck to your backside?”
Konstantin’s mouth finally curls, not high, but high enough for his smile not to be confused with a grimace. “I can’t say that I have.” After a beat, he adds, “I’ll leave you out of the story I fabricate.”
“I know! You could claim a secretive tryst in the woods with one of the carnival performers.”
His brow notches up. “Trysts in the woods aren’t exactly my thing.” His hands join behind his back, stretching his perilously-tight shirt. “I suppose I could claim that I wanted to surprise Izolda by purchasing one of the costumes she spent so long designing.”
“And you ended up in the woods… why ?”
He sighs. “Still trying to figure that part out. Ideas?”
“You had one too many of those delicious mead cocktails to make chatting with all your fans tolerable?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “All my fans?”
I shrug. “Sofiya Patchenkov’s a fan.”
“A fan of my status.”
“Obviously. Who in their right mind would be a fan of your personality?”
That wins me a smile. A full-blow one. Dare I say I find the Ice King not so icy after all?
“I could conjure a more suitable outfit if you’d like? That way, you can say you went out for some fresh air and lost track of time.”
“That would be preferrable.” He stops and pivots sideways.
So do I. “Stick out your palm.”
Once he does, I place the shot glass inside to free both my hands, then pierce my finger on my earring and scan his shirt for the flattest patch, since one wrinkle could ruin my spell.
I opt for his pec and smooth the fabric over it. His pulse seems to kick harder as I carry my bleeding fingertip toward it. I want to reassure him not to be scared, but knowing my history with spellcasting, he should be on his guard. He’s as likely to end up ensconced in chainmail as he is in?—
No, no, no.
Why did I have to think about moss?
“ Focá ,” I mutter while he gapes down at the springy plants carpeting his torso. I try to recover my sigil to transform the moss back into fabric, but at my frenzied touch, the dirt holding the clumped green plants crumbles.
Konstantin peers at his bared chest, which now gleams only with his medallion, while I curl my fingers into my palm and rage at myself.
He stretches his arms over his head, then rolls his shoulders and neck. “Much better.”
I seethe too hard to appreciate his light-heartedness.
“Isla?” His fingers lock around my wrist, probably to propel my fist as far away from his body as possible.
Oh, how he must regret having asked me to alter his clothing…
I snap out of my funk, yank my hand out of his lax grip, then unbutton my shirt.
“Here.” I peel it off my arms. “The fabric is stretchy so it should cover most of you.” Actually, it’ll leave his midriff exposed, but at least his shoulders and pecs will stay warm.
I dangle the shirt between us. He doesn’t take it. Of course… It isn’t as though he can see it. I slap it over one of his sharp shoulders. It’s only as I relinquish my hold on the fabric that I realize the shirt was visible before I let go.
I blink down at myself, then back up at Konstantin, who’s looking everywhere but at my chest. At least I’m wearing a brassiere this time. Granted, it’s incredibly skimpy and slightly sheer, but still…there’s fabric.
He clears his throat. “The shirt… Please put it back on.”
“I’ll shift and fly right above the tree line. Right above you. I promise that I won’t swing by Lev’s?—”
An owl releases a panicked hoot and shoots away from a nearby tree. My ribs clench, for it must’ve heard something I missed.
When my nape prickles with the force of someone’s glower, I realize we’re no longer alone in the woods.