Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
I’m stretched out on the sofa, my sheet vanished but heat washing over my skin. Mainly because of the massive man bending over me.
“Ivy,” Stavros murmurs in a liquid voice like nothing I’ve ever heard from him before. He’s lost his shirt somewhere, but in my daze, I can’t say I mind taking in the muscular expanse of his chest. “Gods, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His fingers slide along my jaw, tilting my head up, and then he’s captured my mouth.
Yes, this—this is what I’ve craved. The heat of him courses right through my body, sparking desire in every nerve.
I clasp the back of his neck and arch up to meet him. As my breasts graze his chest, an ache forms between my thighs.
His lips break from mine, and suddenly we’re not alone. Alek kneels next to the sofa, his slim hand on my shoulder.
“You can’t have her all to yourself,” he says, as husky as Stavros. “It’s my turn.”
He leans in to claim a kiss of his own. My fingers trace the edge of his mask, and he kisses me harder. More lust spikes through my veins.
I have no idea what’s going on here, but it feels too fucking good to ask questions.
There’s a chuckle, and a well-built form nudges Alek aside. Benedikt clambers right onto the sofa to straddle me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I can top anything either of them could offer you.”
Instead of pressing his mouth to mine, he brings his lips to the side of my neck. As he nips the sensitive skin there, his palm swivels against my breast.
A whimper slips through my teeth.
“But none of them really know how to treat a lady.” Casimir sinks down next to me, heedless of Benedikt’s attentions, and glides a gentle thumb over my lips. All at once, they’re throbbing as if I’ve been starved for contact.
As Benedikt eases down my body, Casimir dips his head close and—
My pulse jolts at a sudden thump. My eyes pop open…
It’s just me. Me, with my skin flushed and a pang of need low in my belly, alone on the sofa where I’ve been sleeping.
Well, not quite alone. Daylight streams from the far window, glancing off Stavros’s ruddy hair as he bends to retrieve a box from the floor.
He catches me staring at him and offers a crooked grin. “I’d apologize for waking you up with my moment of clumsiness, but I’d rather say I was testing your reflexes. It’s about time you came out of dreamland anyway.”
Dreamland.
Right. Dreams.
Oh, gods, what a dream.
I must have stared at him a beat too long, remembering the all-too-vivid press of his bare chest against mine, because Stavros raises an eyebrow. I feel my cheeks flame scarlet.
“Good point,” I say, somewhat inanely, shoving off the sheet that is in fact still there.
The former general has seen me in nothing but my underclothes before, yet somehow the nightgown that covers much more of me feels far too exposing.
“I’ll get on with getting ready for the day. I’m sure we have much to do.”
Stavros’s eyebrow stays lifted as I grab the latest riding gown Casimir has sent along—to replace the one Anya splattered with her wine—and hustle over to the latrine. His drawl carries after me through the door. “Nice to see you so dedicated to your work, Thief.”
Yep, that’s all that’s going through my head. Total dedication to our cause. Also, my drawers are definitely not soaked between my thighs.
Gods smite me.
Julita must notice my discomfort, even if—thank all that’s divine—she isn’t privy to my imaginings. Is something wrong? You seem a little agitated.
I give her a subtle shake of my head in answer.
To my relief, the door thumps with Stavros’s departure before I’ve finished tying the laces on my dress. I splash a little water on my face, twist my hair into the hasty arrangement I’ve gotten used to, and head down to the dining hall feeling almost normal.
As I slip into the vast room, I might get some inquisitive looks from the nobles at the nearest tables. At this point, who knows how far word has spread of my sudden apprenticeship under the much-lauded general and whatever other exploits people feel are gossip-worthy?
More ominous are the stern gazes of the two soldiers from the Crown’s Watch standing guard near the doorway. Apprehension prickles down my back even though I know they’re not here specifically for me.
A graceful wave of a hand gives me something else to focus on. Esmae motions me over to the seat next to her.
I veer around to the counters to grab a plate of eggs and pastries before sinking down into the neighboring chair.
Unfortunately, the moment I sit down, I realize that I’m in the direct line of sight of Romild, two tables over. She catches me noticing her and narrows her eyes into a glower.
I drop my gaze to my plate as if it’s the most fascinating arrangement of food I’ve ever seen and snatch up my fork. “I wonder if Romild is ever going to forgive me for that trick with the saddle.”
Julita sniffs. There’s nothing to forgive you for. You were simply proving she can’t hold a candle to your skills, after she so rudely questioned them.
“Clearly she had a lot invested in vying for that position,” Esmae says in a more measured tone. “I can see how it’d have been… startling for her to find out it’d been taken without the typical procedure.”
I grimace. “Don’t people”—I cut myself off before I say people around here, as if I’m not a noble like them, and regather myself—“Don’t all of us benefit from our connections sometimes? It isn’t as if I arranged for my father to have known Ster. Stavros’s before I was even born.”
Esmae bobs her head. “It’s totally understandable that he’d have felt he could trust you—and from what I’ve heard, you’ve handled the job as well as anyone could ask. But when you really want something, I suppose it’s hard not to feel some sting of unfairness.”
The tightness of her voice prompts me to take a closer look at her. She doesn’t sound as if she’s simply speculating about a near-stranger.
Of course, she’s been open with me about how desperately she wants to find a prestigious position of her own after she graduates. I guess it can’t be too difficult for her to imagine being in a similar situation.
Esmae aims a bright smile at me and motions to the pastries I chose at random. “I’m stealing that moon roll from you if you don’t eat it. The chefs outdid themselves with those.”
I crack a grin. “In that case, I’m eating it first. You’d better grab yourself another of your own.”
The crispy yet buttery shell and the creamy custard within really are something on the level of the gods. I’d be able to savor the delicacy more if Julita weren’t muttering in my head.
Jealousy isn’t Romild’s only problem if what you said is true. Now Wendos is harassing her? What’s he aiming for there? What are they all aiming for, sneaking around in the woods again?
The cream sours in my mouth. Casimir and I weren’t able to turn up any other clues about the scourge sorcerers’ apparent woodland ritual—not even enough to prove to anyone who didn’t already believe there’s a conspiracy that the damp earth has anything to do with illicit sorcery to begin with.
All Stavros could offer when I told him about it was a sardonic comment about needing to bring the king more than mud.
As I chew the last few morsels of the roll, my gaze darts across the room instinctively. It snags on Wendos’s dark shaggy hair, several tables off amid a few other students.
If he’s scheming anything right now, it’s how to inhale as much breakfast as possible. I’m still not sure he was exactly “harassing” Romild so much as expressing concern.
What did he notice about her that bothered him? What if it was her sneaking around in the woods with the other conspirators?
She did seem awfully comfortable in that setting during the hunt.
We’ve been focusing on Ster. Torstem, but no matter how involved he might be, it seems awfully unlikely that he’s offended the daimon so much all on his own. We’ve got to find his accomplices too.
“Is that a new dress?” Esmae is asking. “It’s a good color on you.”
I glance down absently at the pale lilac silk. “Yes, you know, I needed another after the wine incident—I didn’t bring very much with me from home.”
Imagine if she saw what I usually wear.
“You’ll have to have your family send more.” Esmae perks up. “I could practice my gift for you to get the message there quickly. Nikodi is farther away than I’ve tried, but it’d be good to stretch myself. I’d like to be crossing country borders someday, and—”
As she’s talked, a slender man in the light blue linen tunic and trousers most of the non-teaching staff wear weaves through the tables to stop by Romild. He taps her shoulder and hands her a folded note.
She glances at its contents and frowns. Then she gets up out of her seat, leaving behind a plate she’s only half-cleared.
My pulse hiccups, and I miss whatever Esmae says next. Where’s my rival off to in such a hurry?
I think I’d better find out.
I scarf down one last mouthful of eggs and nudge back my seat as Romild approaches the door.
Esmae pauses, staring at me. “Are you going already?”
I snatch at the first excuse I can think of that would make sense to her. “I just saw someone who said he might have news soon about what’s happened to Julita. I’ve got to try to catch him before he heads to class—sorry, I didn’t notice him before.”
With feet practiced for speed and deft maneuvering, I make it to the hallway just as Romild reaches the corner to my left. As quietly as I can, I hurry after her.
She doesn’t glance backward, her steps brisk and her posture a bit stiff, as if she’s not happy about whatever the message said. The hall outside the dining area provides plenty of cover anyway with students coming and going.
As I turn the corner after her into the longer passageway leading past the main library doors, the traffic thins.
If she looks around, she won’t be able to help seeing me. And wondering why the hell I’m trailing at her heels.