CHAPTER SIX
“Quit that,” Rafferty said, kicking at Ethenn’s foot.
“Sorry,” Ethenn mumbled. But he couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing under the breakfast table. They sat in the Crimson Clover’s dining hall, the bright morning sun doing the Creator’s work, reminding him what an idiot he’d been for drinking so much the previous night.
“Intoxicants are for dullards and heathens,” his uncle’s voice rang in his head. “Wise men stay away from the stuff.”
Ethenn wasn’t a wise man. He never had been.
Rafferty reached over and slapped Ethenn lightly across the face. “Kid, I don’t know what’s got you so agitated,” he said, silver-gray eyes narrowed. “But if you don’t stop shaking my damn porridge, I’ll give you something to be agitated about.”
Heat flared up Ethenn’s collar as he glared at his friend.
He tightened his grip on his fork, choosing to take his anger out on the metal.
From the second he’d awoken, anxiety set him on edge.
It rankled in his gut, unsettling him as he went about his morning.
He’d like to blame it on his hangover, but he knew that wasn’t the truth.
Ethenn forced his leg to go still, dropping his gaze to the scrambled eggs on his plate.
They were the color of that woman’s hair—Ivry, the Water Mage.
The moment she sat down last night, Ethenn knew why she was there.
He was a Warrior, an asset in short supply.
She wanted to use him for her personal gain, the same as any female Mage might.
As Ethenn was coming to the conclusion that his life would be desperately wanting without a Mage to stir the magic inside of him, and Ivry was a beautiful woman with a sweet smile and soothing voice, he’d accepted her advances without hesitation.
Then Ilain had shown up.
Ethenn didn’t know what he’d expected from the Fire Mage, but anger hadn’t been it. Jealousy, perhaps—after all, she’d made no qualms about wanting a Warrior for herself. Maybe she’d even demonstrate possessiveness. But anger? Bright, seething, unquenchable fury? No, he hadn’t seen that coming.
Once Ilain had grabbed Ethenn by the coat and begun dragging him through the tavern, he decided it wasn’t worth making a scene.
He’d follow her, listen to her tirade—whatever its cause—and move on with his evening.
It didn’t make him any less resentful of her treating him like a child, pulling him into the storeroom to reprimand him, but he would hold his irritation in check.
Ilain had shut the door behind her with a fierce click that rattled the walls. “What,” she hissed, “do you think you’re doing?”
Ethenn stood in the storeroom, uncomfortable but unflinching. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied dully, working to keep his emotions in check.
“Ivry is a Water Mage,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “She introduced herself.”
Ilain crossed her arms, drawing his attention to her decolletage for a spare second. She noticed his distraction and smirked. “Do you also know she intends to Bond with you?” she asked.
Ethenn lifted a shoulder in a half-assed shrug. “I assumed so.”
She glared at him then, incensed. “And you didn’t reject her?”
“No.”
A sharp huff of disbelief flew out of Ilain. “Do you want to Bond with her?”
“Her?” Ethenn scoffed, the hold on his emotions slipping with the alcohol in his system. “I don’t know, Ilain. I just met her.”
She drew back like he’d slapped her. “But you want to Bond . . . with someone?”
Taking a deep breath in, Ethenn lifted his eyes to the ceiling. He could feel the heat creeping up his back, and he tried to gain control of himself once more. “Maybe,” he admitted weakly.
“Maybe?” she demanded.
“Probably,” he corrected himself. “I’ve been thinking about it these last several weeks since you told Evie and Deckard about it, and . . . It seems like my best future is a Bonded one, so yeah, I’d probably like to Bond with a Mage.”
Ilain stared at him for several seconds.
Even in the dark room with only a single oil lamp lighting the space, she looked like a brilliant flame.
It was no secret that Ethenn was attracted to Ilain.
She was impossibly gorgeous. Her loose red curls flowed over her shoulders like molten copper brushing her ivory skin.
That scarlet dress did things to his pulse, assaulting his imagination.
But he held his ground, keeping his head down as he stood under her inspection.
A slow grin lifted Ilain’s lips. She took a step forward. “Why didn’t you say so?” she said, her raspy voice fraying his resolve. The heat spiraled up along his collar as she came another step closer. “You know my situation, Ethenn. I need a Warrior.”
He retreated a step, bumping against a crate.
“If you want someone to Bond with—” Ilain stood before him now, a dare in her gaze. “If you want me . . .”
The heat was at his throat now, coiling higher to choke him.
“All you have to do is say it.”
His breath caught, her jade green eyes all he could see.
Ilain set a hand on his chest. He pulled back immediately but found himself pressed against the wall. And she was still there, face only inches away now. “Do you want me?” she asked.
The blush crept up Ethenn’s jaw and into his cheeks.
Everyone assumed his blushing was due to embarrassment or shyness, as if he were only a foolish child.
It had nothing to do with innocence. No, Ethenn could perfectly imagine what it’d be like to grab Ilain’s wrist, whirling her around, pinning her to the wall.
His hand twitched as he envisioned the beads of that bloody scarlet dress underneath his touch.
Ethenn blinked, fighting his staggered breath. No, the blush had nothing to do with innocence. It had everything to do with stifled rage and need, fury and desire.
Ilain’s eyes flashed between his, waiting. “Ethenn—?”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. His voice sounded angry to his ears.
He could hear Ilain’s careful intake of breath. Then she stepped back, her hand falling away. “Good,” she said imperiously. “We’ll Bond, then.”
And with that, she strode out of the room, leaving him to stand there, irate and baffled all at once.
Staring at his breakfast plate, Ethenn still wasn’t sure how it had happened. Or what precisely had happened. It wasn’t as though Ilain admitted to feelings. If anything, she’d confirmed what he’d worried about from the moment he discovered she wanted a Warrior—she only wanted someone to Bond with.
Last night, his head had been muddled with drink, desire, and confusion.
After nearly two months of pining, he’d felt his control slipping.
And he’d finally admitted what he never should have: He wanted Ilain.
But surely, she hadn’t meant what she said.
She couldn’t have truly agreed to Bond with him so easily.
Rafferty’s hand slammed down on the table before Ethenn even realized he’d begun to bounce his knee again.
“Trouble in paradise?” Thom asked, appearing at their table with a plate in his hand.
Ethenn and Rafferty looked up as Thom took one of the empty seats. “Loxley’s got ants in his pants,” Rafferty grumbled. “And he’s ruining my breakfast.”
Thom eyed Ethenn curiously. “Something on your mind, ki—Loxley?”
It didn’t escape Ethenn that Thom had narrowly avoided calling him “kid.” It was a piss-poor excuse for an apology, but it was a start. They hadn’t spoken much since their fight outside of the Time Keep six days ago, but Ethenn could see that Thom was contrite.
Still, he hadn’t decided whether to forgive him or hold onto the grievance.
Ethenn stabbed a boiled potato. “Not really,” he mumbled.
The kitchen door opened, and Ethenn’s head whipped around of its own volition. Two strangers entered. He turned back to his plate.
Rafferty gestured to Ethenn with his spoon. “He’s been doing that ever since we got here,” he said with a smirk. “So I’d say it isn’t so much a what on his mind as a who.”
“Ah,” Thom replied.
Ethenn ignored them.
Thom tapped a fork on the edge of his plate. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your chat in the storeroom last night, would it?” he asked.
The heat crawled along Ethenn’s spine. “What’s it to you?” he muttered.
“Right.” Thom shifted, his chair creaking. “Look, I owe you an apology. Things . . . they got out of hand. What was going on with Ilain and me—”
“I don’t care,” Ethenn interrupted, feeling the immediate flush of anger spread into his neck.
“It wasn’t real.”
“So you said.”
Thom grimaced. “No, you don’t understand, Ethenn. I was upset—I was hurt that you outed me like that, and I—”
“You, what?” Ethenn met his gaze then, struggling with his rising fury. “You wanted to hurt me, too, so you lied?”
“Yes,” Thom admitted.
Ethenn nodded. “I know.”
Thom’s lips parted, fumbling for words. “You—you do?”
“Yeah.” The heat was nearing his ears now. “Ilain didn’t want me, so she asked you to flirt with her to deter me. Then she found out I am a Warrior, and it backfired, seeing as how she needs one. Well, don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.”
While Thom sat there continuing to gape, Ethenn returned to his meal.
“This is tense,” Rafferty said, a cheerful smile on his face. “It’s great. You should have another brawl; that’d be entertaining.”
“I’ve had enough near-death experiences, thanks,” Thom muttered.
“Hate to break it to you, Thommy, but we’re heading out in the morning,” Rafferty said. “We’re bound to face death a few more times until this Relic situation is sorted.”
Ethenn ignored them, working with all his internal might to push down the anger that consumed him.
He’d learned not to show it. Clenching his jaw, tightening his fists, furrowing his brow—nothing physical helped ease the anger within.
It wasn’t until the last few weeks of training with Evylin that he discovered the best way to chase away the rage.