Chapter 20
“Oh sure, I’ve been to the Communal a few times.” Waylon leaned back and rested his feet on the tavern table three days later. “Why didn’t you ask?”
Faron shook his head at his friend. “You’ve been locked away all week. And how would I have known to ask you?”
Waylon groaned. “My dear father will not give up on my hopeless education. But Mordency has been hosting for ages. You’ve heard about them.” He gestured back to his friend.
Faron’s brows reached his hairline, bewilderment filling his features. “I have not.”
“Of course you have! I’ve been trying to get you to join me since last summer. Don’t you remember?”
“You mean the ‘fun time’ you’ve been suggesting? That was your idea?”
“Of course!” Waylon slapped the table.
“Forgive me if I prefer other forms of entertainment.”
Tal watched the two men argue and couldn’t help feeling deep satisfaction that Faron had not wished to join Waylon to such an event. Was that jealousy flaring inside her?
“It’s great! The wives don’t know about it, and his servants love to participate.”
Tal didn’t hide the skepticism from her face.
“What? Don’t look at me like that. They get to choose their partner. We simply sit and wait.”
“And the… utter lack of control is enjoyable?” Tal had no issue with the man’s choice of partner or partners.
It was the feral nature with which they had attacked each other she couldn’t stop seeing.
They’d all been consumed by it. She barely released her hold on her power.
She’d never allowed herself to be so… free.
Waylon licked his lips just as Faron’s leg brushed against her own. “And you’re friends with him?” she asked Faron over Waylon’s laughter.
“Waylon has always been, shall we say, carefree.” He took a sip of ale and choked at the gesture Waylon made.
“Did Lighton say anything?” Tal’s guilt over risking Faron’s exposure had plagued her since that night.
The noble shook his head. “Not a word. In fact, he hasn’t been as cheerful as of late. What on earth did you do to the poor sod, Faron?”
“Tal attacked him. I only knocked him out.” He threw an arm around her shoulders, and Tal fought the heat that filled her cheeks.
“Hells. I need to find a woman like that.” Waylon dropped his feet and leaned onto the table. “Are you sure you don’t want to share?”
Tal certainly failed to hide the redness in her cheeks after that. “What makes you think I’d want a man who supports adultery?” She turned her nose up at the noble.
Mischief filled Waylon’s features. “But you don’t deny you want him?” He gestured to Faron, eyeing the arm around Tal’s shoulders.
Faron peered at her sideways and drew circles on her arm. Chills ran up and down at the point of contact.
“Is it the blue eyes?” Waylon asked.
Blue eyes? Tal furrowed her brow. Faron’s pale green gaze held hers. She found the gold specks there. As the contact lingered, the color shifted. It darkened. And, as a shadow crossed over his features, there it was. Not green. Hazel.
“What?” he said, his voice like a caress.
“Your eyes are hazel.”
Faron nodded a fraction, his face lit with amusement.
“They always look green. I never noticed the blue.” Even then, Tal could barely catch the deep hues.
His attention flicked to her lip as she bit it in concentration. “Well, the blue is mixed with light brown. So, looking at you, they’d probably blend together.”
Before she could ask what he meant, a commotion near the entrance distracted her. Entering the tavern were Daire and a few other guardsmen, including a worried Eddard. Tal felt Faron’s finger twitch on her arm. She sighed. “I do not want to deal with him today.”
Faron leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “Then let’s get out of here.” His warm breath on her skin only added to the thoughts still plaguing her mind.
Waylon stood with a loud scrape of his chair.
“Well, looks like I’ll be needing to find my own entertainment tonight.
You two have a good evening.” He bowed, winking as he stood, before joining the crowd by the door.
The guards greeted him noisily. A familiar mop of thick chestnut hair joined him, and Tal caught the captain’s attention.
Recognition flooded his features. His gaze flicked behind her, and his eyes widened in surprise.
Faron took his arm from around her shoulder and stood. He held his hand out to her. “Ready? I know another way out.”
His skin was smooth against her palm. Faron squeezed her fingers, and Tal smiled despite herself. She stood, and they snuck out through a door along the back wall. They dropped hands once they’d exited but walked side by side back to the tunnels.
They didn’t talk about the Communal or Waylon’s question, though the glances they exchanged told her it gripped both their minds.
“I apologize for Waylon’s forwardness.” Faron turned to face her.
Tal waved a hand at his apology. “There’s no need. I like him.”
Faron cried out and placed his hand over his heart. “Damn him. I’ll strike him down for stealing your affections.”
“Still your sword, oh jealous one. I must focus on preparations. I don’t have time to mend your wounds, nor your fragile ego.” Tal pushed him playfully.
“Oh, how little faith you have in me.” His shoulders heaved with a dramatic sigh. “Alas, your training awaits, milady.” He dropped the highborn tone. “I look forward to the day when you’ve mastered that fire.”
Tal searched his face for a hint of humor but found none.
“Remember that time you were so mad at Duncan for interfering with a bounty that you stomped straight home to Carrick’s room, and before you could get one sentence out, your hands shot flames that burned his bedding to nothing but ash!
” Sybil barely managed to finish her story before she lost herself to a fit of laughter.
The group sat scattered around the common area and shared stories, as had been their new routine for the last week when the search for the mage proved fruitless.
“I slept on the floor for a week after that.” Carrick chuckled.
Tal groaned behind her hand. “I offered for you to sleep in my room!”
Rain tipped his drink in Carrick’s direction. “He probably should have. The bed sat empty since Tal went missing for the next five days.”
Sybil cackled. “Not missing, just drowning her fury with Pochette’s Mud Water at Gale’s.”
“Is that why you’re always drinking?” Faron asked.
Talwyn sipped her ale to hide her shame. “It doesn’t block my fury completely—”
“Unless you’re four pints in!” Sybil interrupted.
“Which she usually is.” Carrick shook his head.
Tal held her hands up in surrender. “My fury calls to me. The stronger the call, the harder it is to resist. The more ale I drink, the easier it is to ignore it, and the harder it is to pull my fury out.”
“And then when you get good and pissed off, nothing but a batch of the revolting poison that is Mud Water can keep the flames at bay,” Rain chimed in. He shivered at the mention of the bitter drink that could knock out a horse.
Tal shrunk further into her spot against the wall. “It’s not that bad. You gain a taste for it eventually.”
“Sure.” Sybil threw a bite of bread at Tal. “Just don’t plan on kissing anyone for a while.”
Tal’s gaze shot to Faron, and she noticed the way his lips twitched. She forced her focus to the cool drink in her hands before she turned as red as a rose.
Faron shook his head. “And none of you are concerned that a Fury spends a majority of her time surrounded by highly flammable substances?”
He received blank stares.
“Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it.” Tal shrugged. He had a point.
“And no one tells Tal what to do,” added Egan.
That was the last night Tal drank anything to dull her fury. She’d had control of her magic for weeks now and had built her stores significantly as she practiced each night.
A week later, she and Faron sat in the common area working on Tal’s hold on her magic. “Alright, wise tutor, what new task will you have me do today?” She set down her faerie water, a mix of mashed up fruits, fresh water, and honey.
Faron stopped bringing ale when he learned it dulled Tal’s fury. “You need a clear head to train properly,” he’d said.
Tonight, the faerie water offered not only a substitute to her usual pint of ale but also a reprieve from the stifling summer’s heat. Tal wore a torn-up shirt with ties up to her shoulders to give her arms some air.
Faron stretched out across from her, his back against the wall. “What did we master last? One flame on each finger?”
“Almost.” Tal called up the flames and stared pointedly at the noticeably flame-free pinky on her left hand.
“Poor little guy. He’s trying.”
Tal grunted and snuffed out the flames.
“You and your flaming toes will get there soon.” He winked when Tal stuck her tongue out at him. “You know what would be really impressive?”
She crossed her arms. “Do I want to know?”
“I can see it now. Talwyn the Fearsome, engulfed in flames, stalking the streets as her enemies run in fear.”
She snorted and shook her head. “More like Talwyn the Turbulent. It’s easier than concentrated spots, but I’ve only managed full body flame when I can’t control my fury.”
“You’ve already done it? Fascinating! You really are incredible, do you know that?”
Tal didn’t answer.
“What happens to your hair?”
“Nothing burns except my clothes.” Tal anticipated the mischief in his gaze and responded with what had become her signature eye roll. She found his lips, noting the way he licked the faerie water from them.
She recalled that moment in the alley where his hands pulled her into him, his body pressed against hers, and his mouth flirted with the distance between them.
The memory had been tormenting her since that night.
She dreamed of him. Sometimes her dreams brought her back to the afternoon with him in the forest; other times, she relived the near kiss behind the curtain at Mordency’s.