Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
“Watching my brothers flirt with their paramours makes me wish to avoid romance entirely. It seems like one has to make a fool of themselves to succeed.” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age sixteen.
Phineas and Sevrin had left to seek out Iris.
I was unsure if we were going to Hillridge Farm today or not.
I supposed it would come down to whether Iris could be found and if she was available.
I imagined we might also request Mrs. Hillridge and Miss Quirke to join us, but I didn’t wish to bring it up with Abnus beside me.
He was still jealous of her, even though he had no need to be.
Looking both ways down the hall to assure myself that no one was around, I then grabbed Abnus’s hand, our fingers intertwining.
He glanced at me, his hand tightening around mine.
I swallowed at the heat burning in the purple depths of his eyes and the feel of his skin on mine.
I tugged on him, and he followed me without question.
We wove through the manor until we reached the library.
Abnus led me to the corner, but before I could sit down, he drew me into his embrace, arms winding around my waist. With my nose against his chest, I closed my eyes and settled against him.
Abnus didn’t say anything; he simply held me as he ran a hand over my back in long strokes.
I snuggled in, enjoying the closeness. The cold that emanated off Abnus didn’t even bother me; instead, it enthralled me. I wanted to be his warmth, and the one he sought for comfort.
Cupping the back of my head, he kissed my forehead, then took a deep inhale before kissing me yet again. I lifted my head and went up on my toes, determined to feel his lips on mine, but Abnus turned away from me so my lips caught on his jaw.
Pain ripped through me at the rejection. I tried to step out of his embrace, but Abnus growled and tightened his hold. “No.”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes.
He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Do not pull away from me, please.”
“Why?” I asked, hooking my arms around his waist. Why didn’t he want me?
“I cannot kiss you, not at the moment. But I do desire you, Oren,” he replied as if he heard the thoughts circling my head.
It was the truth, or at least how he saw it.
Fae could not lie, but the truth was a subjective thing.
What he believed to be true didn’t necessarily constitute what I thought was true.
But he didn’t have to kiss me, nor should I try to make him.
It was his decision, and I would respect it, even if I desperately needed his lips on mine to assuage the nerves in my gut.
I buried myself against him, and Abnus held me tight to the point that it was uncomfortable. He pressed another kiss to my head. “Do not doubt my affection for you. I cannot give you all you want, but I do care.”
I didn’t want to ask this, but I had to; I needed to know. “What are we?”
He stayed silent for a moment until he replied, “We are simply enjoying each other at this moment, correct?”
I understood. Abnus had a soul mate somewhere. We wouldn’t be for forever—it was for now. I didn’t know if that was enough for me. I needed more than a casual fuck from Abnus. I wanted his heart; I wanted his soul; I wanted everything he was.
I pushed those thoughts away. Other matters were far more important than my romantic heart. I tried to move away from Abnus, but he held tight. “No.”
Relaxing, I resettled in his embrace. The more I calmed, the more Abnus relaxed until he pressed one more kiss to my forehead and stepped back, cupping my cheeks. He gave me a slight smile, which I returned.
“Tea?” he asked.
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
His thumb ran over my cheek once before he released me completely and disappeared around the shelf to order tea from a footman.
I took the few minutes he was gone to gather myself.
I was unraveling like cheap cloth. I didn’t understand what Abnus was doing to me, but it merely took a look and I was undone.
That was unacceptable.
By the time Abnus returned, I’d gathered some semblance of my rationality. He took a seat beside me in his usual chair. I gifted him my usual smile, and his lips quirked per normal. All was well.
The footman wasn’t far behind Abnus with a tea tray, making me wonder if the fae had taken a moment to collect himself as well. I shook the thought off. Abnus would hardly need to calm himself as I did; he was ancient and had years upon years of experience.
I bent forward to make my tea, but Abnus rested a hand on my forearm, with a gentle upturn of his lips, then began making my cup of tea.
I smiled, unable to help it. He remembered.
Why wouldn’t he? I knew how he took his tea, so it stood to reason that he would remember mine.
He cared; he’d said as much. No need to write a book off a single act of kindness.
Taking a bracing drink, I started, “I thought perhaps we should search the library for something about necromancy.”
He paused in making his own cup of tea. “That seems like a wise place to start.”
“I have already begun,” I said, then told him of the magic theory books that I’d snagged. “They are old, though, and I haven’t read through them yet.” I kept falling asleep. I could read anything, but these books were a tad… dry, I supposed was how I would phrase it.
“I see.”
“Would you like to search with me?”
“I can.”
“That doesn’t mean you want to.” Fae could and did say simple things to avoid speaking the truth. Often the smallest phrases spoke the most.
Abnus lifted an eyebrow, and I returned his look. I wanted the truth at all times, not half-truths. I refused to back down.
“Yes, I do not want to search for a dusty book when I could be having tea with you, but as you will search with or without me, then yes, I will join you.”
My pulse fluttered like butterfly wings. How did he undo me with a turn of phrase? It was hardly fair. “I suppose,” I said, “we could read Lord Rhett’s journal, rather than search.”
He shifted to the edge of his chair. “It would be easier to find us if we remained in one place.”
“It would.” I grabbed his hand, holding it. “We would have to sit closer, so we can both see.” Heat filled my cheeks. I knew what I hoped he’d suggest, and I wasn’t brave enough to take what I wanted.
Like he could read my thoughts, he sat back in his chair and lifted a single eyebrow. Biting my bottom lip, I stood and moved in front of him. Abnus’s hands cupped my hips, drawing me between his legs.
“Don’t worry, a ghrá. I shall hear before anyone comes close.”
I wasn’t worried about someone seeing—though I should have been. I was concerned my body was going to give me away.
Abnus lifted me with ease, eliciting a gasp from me, and settled me against his chest with my legs over his.
I snuggled closer, handing him the journal.
After we’d placed our tea close by, he cracked the old book open and we read.
Most of the early pages had nothing to do with what we wanted—Rhett wasn't a lord yet or a father or even thinking about forming the gate.
He was a young man living in a land covered in human and fae blood.
Abnus was about to turn the page when I stopped him, the yellow paper crinkling and threatening to tear. “Wait,” I said. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
I pointed to a passage, finger shaking.
Harriet has made great progress with her tutor.
Though ten years my junior, she has surpassed anyone’s expectations in magic.
Only yesterday did she raise a felled bird.
It cried something fierce, then followed her like it was tied by string.
It follows her still. Father has great hopes for her necromancy talents. He may even send her to court.
“Harriet?” Abnus asked.
“Harriet Byrne, younger sister to Rhett. I was told she died not long after his sons, another strike against him.” My heart thrashed against my ribs. “Harriet Byrne must have been the necromancer who forged the gate.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
Who else was there? Necromancy was rare. The gate had been forged with and by Byrne blood—my blood.
Abnus snagged my chin and forced me to look at him.
“We do not know that. And what does it matter, Mr. Byrne? You have magic in your blood? That is hardly surprising. Many humans do. Necromancy does indeed travel down blood lines, but that doesn’t make you one.
Even if you had the gift, you wouldn’t have to become one.
There is a matter of choice. You choose your future.
This.” he said, shaking the old book, “is the past, not a prophecy for the future.”
I took a deep breath, trying to accept the logic that Abnus was telling me. It didn’t matter if I had a necromancer in my lineage, but somehow… it did, and I couldn’t articulate why. I felt oddly tainted by the residue of her long-ago magic.
“Come, let’s read more. Something pertinent,” Abnus said, gathering me close.
I rested my head on his shoulder, looking at the yellowing pages with unseeing eyes.
He steadily turned the pages, trying to find later passages of the actual forming of the gate or the possible signs of necromancy, but my thoughts wouldn’t budge off Harriet Byrne.
Father had to have known. Aidan possibly.
I wasn’t sure how much reading he’d had time for of late.
But Father had known, and he’d said nothing.
I wanted to scoff at my surprise. He’d proved, many times now, that he could and did keep secrets.