CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR #3
Vayden finished his wine and stood. “I’m not,” he said. “Where you go, Lainy, I’ll go. For now, I’m going to dance with my daughter.”
They said goodnight, and Vayden disappeared into the crowd.
Ethenn shifted in his chair next. “I think we need to have a long talk,” he told Ilain.
She nodded solemnly. “Probably without the influence of wine. Otherwise, I may forgo all conversation and get right to the lovemaking.”
While her husband wore a bashfully amused smirk, Thom snarled. “Ilain, some of us don’t care to hear about your exploits,” he noted.
“Then don’t listen,” Ilain returned, tugging a quite willing Ethenn behind her as she departed.
Shaking his head, Thom scoffed. “Those two scare me,” he remarked drolly.
Brea propped her feet onto Vayden’s vacated chair. “I think they’re rather cute,” she said. “In Schon, we’re very open with our intimacy. Nos efétes, nos amés.”
Thom furrowed his brow, attempting to translate. “No regard, no love?”
“Efétes is better translated as affection, but yes, the meaning is much the same.”
“A Schonese proverb?”
She smirked, lifting her wine glass. “Advice,” she said. “From mi’abeya.”
“Your grandmother was a romantic?”
“Most Schonese are.”
Thom raised his brow. “You’re not,” he said.
She reached over and slapped his cheek, though not hard enough to hurt. “I am the most romantic soul you’ll ever meet,” she said with a sharp yet playful tone. “I’ve just acted as a soldier around you, and there is no time for romance on the battlefield.”
“Well, I’ll have to disagree with you there,” Thom quipped. He offered her a wry smile. “You saved my life, and I find that quite romantic.”
She gave him a derisive frown.
“Besides,” Thom continued, gesturing to her form, lounging in the chair. “This is a decidedly unsoldier-esque look. I’d venture to call it downright feminine.”
“I am a woman.”
“I noticed.”
A pleased smile spread across her full lips, illuminating her dark eyes.
She truly was beautiful. The soft blue of her dress enhanced her tawny skin, giving it a deeper golden hue—a blend of her dark-skinned Ephrian and bronze-complexed Schonese heritage.
Its flowing fabric swooped low, revealing more of her sculpted décolletage than the Shires would deem appropriate.
Her tight curls danced whimsically around her cheeks and shoulders.
If he had been more of a scoundrel, he would have devoted the whole evening to trying to seduce her.
As it was, he held his attraction in with a tight rein.
“So,” Brea said, changing the subject, “what will you ask for? If Evylin and Deckard refuse the position, would you really want to go with them wherever?”
Without hesitation, Thom nodded. “I’ll stay with them no matter what.”
“What if they want to live in Estshire with her family?”
Thom chuckled at the notion. “They won’t go for that. Neither of them desires to live in a small village. At worst, they’ll opt to leave Loclight for a different city.”
She poured them both another glass of wine, and Thom envied her inability to feel the effects of alcohol. It was already lightening his thoughts enough to allow him to give her leering looks as before. His eyes darted down to her neckline at the thought.
“You’re a good brother, you know?” she said, startling his attention back up. “You always have been.”
Thom scoffed nervously as she handed him the wine glass. “Not always.”
“Ever since I’ve known you.”
“You’ve known me at my least difficult state,” he said, passing her an amused glance. “And even then, I was still quite difficult.”
“You’ve never been difficult to me.”
“That’s because I like you.”
The second the words passed his lips, Thom’s stomach dropped.
Brea paused, her glass halfway to her lips. Seated side by side, he was glad she wasn’t looking directly at him as he hid his mortification behind a sip.
With a friendly pat on his hand, Brea broke the awkward silence. “I’m glad, mi’caro,” she said.
Thom bristled. Ever since their conversation, he’d increasingly disliked the nickname. Once, she’d said it with teasing affection. Now, she used it almost derisively, like she was mocking the feelings she once held for him.
“And are we to expect an announcement soon?” Brea asked.
Thom frowned. “In regard to what?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Your engagement.”
His frown grew. “Engagement—?” He realized then. “You mean to Calyn?”
“She told me you are courting,” she explained. “I’m proud of you. She’s a very sweet girl, and I think you will be happy together.”
Caught between amusement and annoyance, Thom shook his head. “I know I’m prone to making mistakes, Brea, but that’s not one of them.”
She stared at him in confusion, so he clarified.
“I’m not courting Calyn. There was a misunderstanding, but she and I are not together.
In fact, I think your nephew is winning her heart right now.
” He frowned then, looking out across the ballroom.
“I hope he’s not taking too much advantage of my absence. ”
Brea sat forward, giving him a dangerous view of her cleavage. Instantly, he averted his gaze as she asked, “You aren’t pursuing her hand?”
“Allore’s might, no!”
“Why not?” Brea asked, sounding truly disappointed. “She’s young, beautiful, open, and caring. What’s more, I think she’d do well for you.”
Thom gaped at her, baffled. Why was Brea supportive of him marrying another woman? Did she not feel the same ache of indignation at the thought of him with anyone but her?
“I could never be with Calyn,” he said.
Brea’s brows drew together. “Oh, Thom.” She sounded almost pitying. “You could if you tried. Her heart is open to you, and she would love you as you’ve always deserved. You don’t have to be alone.”
The truth her words held meant nothing to Thom. It didn’t matter that Calyn was charming and lovable; Thom knew he could never be happy with her. He could love her as a sister but never as a wife. He could never truly be in love with her.
Rapping his knuckles against the table, Thom fought down his agitation.
“Brea, I know I’ve made jokes in the past, but let me make this clear: I have no romantic interest in Calyn.
I never have, and I never will. I think it would be a terrible thing for me to pretend I did just because I don’t want to be alone. ”
Though Thom’s tone was determined, Brea scanned him doubtfully.
An incredulous laugh slipped out of him. “Why don’t you believe me?” he demanded.
“It isn’t that I don’t believe you, mi’caro. It’s that I don’t understand why you wouldn’t pursue a relationship with her. You find her attractive, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you think she’s a charming girl, yes?”
“Yes, but Brea—”
“You could love her,” she insisted. “If you tried, you could let go of your self-doubt and find that you’re worth being loved too.”
The words sprang to Thom’s lips in that instant.
As he maintained her gaze—so gentle and full of warmth—he felt suspended in time and place, every emotion he had ever felt for her rising to the forefront.
From the moment he met Breata Lohen, she had only astonished him.
She was remarkable. Moreover, she believed he was worthy of love.
Thom thought about letting the words slip out. He truly did. But he surrendered himself to the role she’d relegated him to long ago. “Because I’m handsome, strong, and a total shit?”
“Your finest qualities, indeed,” Brea said, raising her glass in a mock cheers.
Encouraged by her lighthearted reply, Thom advanced the joke. “Or is it because I’m not magical? And we unfortunate souls have to discover something worth living for.”
“Luck of the draw, mi’caro,” she said with a sly grin. “I did not ask for my magic any more than you asked not to have it.”
“You know,” he said, setting his glass on the table, “for a time, I thought I wanted it. That it would improve my life and make me more important. But I don’t believe I’d enjoy it much.”
“Too much responsibility?”
Thom’s response lacked the same lightness. “Too much life,” he confessed. “I’ve made countless mistakes and outlived too many friends. I wouldn’t want another century or more in this world.”
Brea remained silent, opting instead to sip her wine.
At her side, Thom admired her profile. Her pert nose added a charming accent to her features.
Her small silver earrings sparkled in the light of the many candles.
Her chin, cheekbones, and forehead showcased striking, powerful lines.
She exuded a fierce and imposing presence—stunning and awe-inspiring, standing apart from every other woman in the world, but not just for her beauty.
Breata Lohen was truly unique in every aspect.
She exuded unwavering confidence. Strong and self-assured, she moved with both power and elegance.
Despite her small, slender frame, she commanded respect and was never seen as delicate.
It was futile to try to intimidate, deceive, or discourage her.
She wielded truth and wit as potent tools.
He believed nothing could deter her once she committed to a goal.
Thom smiled at the wonderful woman next to him and spoke before he could second-guess himself. “There would be one benefit to being magical.”
Brea grinned, ready for another joke. “What’s that?”
Thom downed the rest of his wine, let the glass plunk against the table, and reached across to draw one of her tight curls free of the others. As if turned to stone, Brea’s dark eyes widened as he ran his fingers over the silky strand.
Thom let his smile drop away to ensure she knew this was no joke at all as he said, “I could have you.”
Brea inhaled deeply as if to speak, but Thom leaned down and kissed her cheek, silencing her. Her skin was warm against his lips, but he didn’t linger. He tucked her curl behind her ear, gently stroked the line of her sharp cheekbone, and withdrew in one smooth motion.
“Goodnight, mi’cara,” he said and left her sitting there alone at the table as he exited the ballroom, laughter and music echoing through the halls around him.