Chapter 40
Forty
One moment, I was helping the last mortals reach the street, where it was chaos; the outer wall of the arena groaned as if it might collapse too.
The next, Fieran had me in his arms, and we were soaring into the air.
“Would you stop doing that?” I demanded breathlessly as the world moved too swiftly around us.
We flew over the shattered wreckage of the arena toward the barracks.
“There’s an awful lot of talk about you now,” he said grimly. “You cannot be that visible.”
“What do you mean?”
“The griffins flying at your command? The mortals think you’re all but a reincarnated goddess—in fact, you might have been deified in the last ten minutes—and the Fae think…”
“They weren’t at my command.” I sobered, worried about what had become of them. “Two of them were babies. The one who ate the first snake was—”
“The hatchling you carried,” he said. “Yes. Most people would’ve let the egg break and saved themselves the trouble of facing a griffin later in the arena.”
“They’re smart, Fieran.” I didn’t want to admit it out loud, but I wondered if the griffin had recognized me.
Before Tay and I were born, my mother had raised a duck after its mother died, and the hatchling had followed her around.
The griffin and I had locked eyes as it hatched, right before I chucked the egg back into the nest.
“I know.”
“We shouldn’t be killing them.”
“Smart and safe are two different things,” he said, then muttered, “Look at you.”
“Where did they go?”
“They escaped. We should go after them, but…” He looked over his shoulder. “There’s an arena to rebuild.”
“I’m glad to see it shattered. They should leave it that way.”
His mouth twisted in that humorless smile he had sometimes. “They never would.”
We arched around the building, flying over the open sea. I put my arm around his throat, closing my eyes at the way the sky and the sea seemed to turn into one bright, dazzling threat.
“We’re going to break you of that fear of heights,” he murmured into my ear.
“I imagine having wings is going to accomplish that,” I snapped back.
“But you’ll have to use those wings. To learn to fly. To launch yourself off the cliffside—”
I put my hand over his mouth. “I’ve had a very long day, Fieran. And as always, it’s your fault. So nag me tomorrow.”
His lips brushed softly against my palm as he smiled, and a beat of desire pulsed through me. I pulled my hand away.
“Fair enough. I won’t nag you,” he promised, and I raised my brows, always expecting a trick with him.
He flew us toward the building. I squeezed my eyes shut, having the sense of impending impact even without watching, but the air changed; the next thing I knew, he was lowering me to the floor.
I opened my eyes as my boots landed on the soft rug in his room. His room smelled like his aftershave, and he kept his arm around me a beat longer than was necessary for me to catch my balance.
“I’m going to have food sent up,” he told me. “You need to rest before the third trial tomorrow.”
“The third trial is tomorrow?” My mind spun. I couldn’t do that again; I felt bone-tired. “But the arena! Can they reconstruct it so soon?”
“It’s not in the arena.” He ticked the three stages of the Recruits’ Trials off on his fingers as a reminder. “Recruit versus recruit combat. Recruit versus monster combat. And then recruit versus Fae.”
“A banquet to celebrate us after the selection…but really, to test how useful we can be.”
“I wish it was sooner, to be honest. The queen will be plotting away after today’s show. You’d better prepare what secrets of mine you’re going to give away. Make it good, prove you’re worth more than the danger you pose.”
“You knew what she required of me.”
Fieran always seemed to know.
“I know.” He sat on the edge of the window seat, and even though he’d just carried me through it, I felt a thrill of unease.
I edged closer, trying to make myself a little less afraid of open windows. Soon I’d either fly or burn, and I hoped I’d fly.
“I was thinking you should lean into the story that Ander and I are fighting over you,” he said. “But you’ll need to tell her details that make me look like a fool. She adores that kind of thing.”
“The story,” I repeated. I didn’t want to delve into whether that story was a lie or not right now. “Don’t you think she’ll be most curious if I really have a false mark?”
His lips tugged at the edges. Pride. “That story is everywhere, isn’t it?”
“Ensmeth is the one who told me.”
The pride was gone in a flash. “I don’t care for him.”
“Me neither. He took the idea that I might be the mortal queen one day as quite offensive.” It was so ridiculous.
“It seems like you will have quite a bit to tell the queen. I could be up to all kinds of mischief.” Fieran reached out a hand. “Come the rest of the way to the window.”
“You said you wouldn’t nag.”
The smile that lit his face then was entirely playful. “I won’t.”
I took his hand—always driven by dangerous curiosity where he was concerned—and he drew me closer.
He kept holding my hand as I came and sat on the window seat across from him. I sat stiffly, my feet planted on the hardwood floor, ready to throw myself inside.
“You have to know by now I won’t let you fall.”
“Won’t you? It’s hard to imagine how this all ends well.”
“With you as queen?”
I let out a laugh. “Oh, of course.”
“A queen, winged and fierce and even more fearless than you already are.”
“I spent most of my day cold and terrified, Fieran.”
“You changed the world a little today, Cara. For every mortal who watched you fight for them.”
The flash of emotion on his face might have been pride, or something even more tender, and either way, I shook my head before I could even make sense of my feelings. I didn’t want him to look at me like that, like he admired me.
Because that look had sent warmth rushing through me, a glow of joy at having pleased him, and that was a road that would damn me.
I cared about Lidi and Tay and our farm. Not this maddening man and this beautiful, twisted city. “Stop sweet-talking me.”
His smile was a flash like the sun coming out. “Sorry. Only barbs from here on out. I know you’re much more comfortable with insults.”
“Much more comfortable insulting you.”
“You certainly were a lot more interested in kissing me before you got to know me.” He didn’t seem offended.
“Absolutely. You were charming when I thought I could only have a night with you.”
“You were charmed!” He seemed to take it as a confession.
I leveled him a look. “And you knew it. I was just like every other girl in that village.”
“You were definitely not like every other girl.” He didn’t follow that thought up, instead looking out. “Come sit with me and watch the sunset.”
“I am sitting with you.”
“But you look miserable.”
“As I said, I’m sitting with you.”
He laughed and pulled me gently toward him. “I’ve got wings. If you’re close to me, you know you won’t fall.”
I wasn’t sure about that at all. But I let him pull me into his arms until my back was settled against his chest.
The sky tinted a bruised violet as the sun sank low; dragons wheeled across the clouds.
He rested his chin lightly on my shoulder, making it impossible to ignore his heat, his solidity. My muscles unknotted against his warmth, and I let my head fall back on his broad shoulder. “You’re a terrible man, but a wonderful pillow.”
As usual, he seemed amused by my insults.
“You pretend you’re all sharp edges,” he murmured into my ear. “You protected those mortals today. The care you took with the griffin came back to save lives today. You are kind.”
“I’m not kind to you.”
“I know, and I relish your barbs. It’s going to make it so much more delicious when you surrender to loving me.”
I looked up at him over my shoulder, needing for him to see every bit of wither in my glare.
He did not look repentant.
“I’m starting to tolerate you, which is pretty generous, given what you did to Lidi. I haven’t forgiven you—”
“I know.” He was watching me with molten golden eyes that seemed to sear right through me. Our faces were so close together, his lips and that hard jaw. Part of me was tempted to put my hand on his cheek and guide his mouth to mine.
“But I can work with you.” I was babbling, and I knew it, and I needed to stop before I said too much. “While our needs align. But that doesn’t mean I could ever fall in love with—”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine.
I was kissing him back before I could think better of it.
He pulled me closer, hand splaying across my ribs, and deepened the kiss. There was nothing gentle in it after the first moment; it was hungry, claiming, but he never took more than I was willing to give.
When he broke away, he lingered just at my jawline, kissing my skin with reverence. My mind fell to pieces like a mirror shattering on stone, my thoughts nothing but shards of him, him, him. His all-consuming mouth, his scent of smoke, his powerful body against mine.
I laughed, breathless, and pushed myself away, trying to regain a hold of myself. “You really are insufferable.”
“You kissed me back.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“There are many things we shouldn’t do,” he agreed. “But this is the calmest I’ve ever seen you at the edge of the air.”
“I don’t feel calm.”
“Distracted, then. Close enough.”
I scoffed. “Is it? Well, let’s find out.”
I leaned back into his touch, brushing my lips against the angle of that chiseled jaw. He dipped his head, seeking more of me.
My hand found its way to his thigh. Even through the fine wool of his trousers, he was hard and tense under my touch. I traced a line along it, feeling him shudder against me.
He caught my hand in his, threading our fingers together. I could’ve sworn I was breathing harder than I had climbing those damned ropes, but his ragged breath matched mine. His lips met mine again in slow, savoring kisses.
His hands circled my waist, splaying wide and hot. I gripped him harder through his trousers and felt him groan into my mouth.