43. Chapter Forty-One #2
“Morrígan’s bloody wings, Branwyn!” I snapped, but even as I said it, my burning cheeks betrayed me.
Her wicked laughter melted into fondness. “Desire isn’t a chain, love. It’s a match. And the God of Chaos lit it.”
I groaned, flopping back on the mattress. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, but I’d like to,” Mairenn chimed in with rare playfulness glinting in her gaze. “Everyone sees it, Aurenya. The way he looks at you. Not just as something fragile to protect…but as if he wants to devour you whole.”
I waved a hand carelessly. “You’re imagining things”
“That girl isn’t imagining a goddess damned thing,” Branwyn cut in, lofty as ever. She perched at the edge of the bed, with her hair spilling over her shoulders. “I knew it the moment I saw him stare you down in the First Forest. He wasn’t thinking innocent thoughts.”
My stomach flipped as I remembered the look in his eyes in that moment—green light catching like it had last night. I was still trying to convince myself that it was only the bond between us that created the spark. But it was getting increasingly difficult to do.
The truth was, I’d seen different shades of Tairngire.
The protector, the cocky insufferable bastard, the First-Spun god who delivered judgment, who was doing everything he could to protect the realms from collapsing.
And then there was the side of him that I didn’t want to face—the one that I maybe desired.
But I didn’t know every side of him. He was still too guarded, too closed off.
Falling for him would be a dangerous game indeed, with his shadows and secrets.
“You’re both delusional,” I muttered, dragging the blanket up to my chin.
Branwyn only laughed harder. Mairenn leaned in, conspiratorial. “Oh no,” she purred, mocking. “If only you could see the way he looks at you from someone else’s eyes.”
My head spun, desperately trying to avoid the possibility. So I used an excuse that I knew wouldn’t convince anyone, not even myself. Because lately, I lived for breaking my chains. “It’s forbidden. It’s always been forbidden. You both know that.”
They only laughed harder, unrepentant. “And when has Tairngire ever cared about rules?” Branwyn cackled.
“Never.” Mairenn chuckled. “He once stole a dragon egg from Augustine just to watch Neit’s rage split mountains—then gave it away to a farmer’s daughter because she looked ‘lonely.’”
I stared, slack-jawed. I’d read of Augustine, a city in Cindraloch known for its expansive mountains. I also couldn’t see Tairngire doing something that ridiculous, he was always so…serious. Did he have a secret playful side I hadn’t seen yet?
“That can’t be true.” I said, shaking my head.
“Oh, it’s true,” Mairenn said, proud. “That’s who he is. Chaos wrapped in pine and shadow. And you, Aurenya? You’re just the next rule he wants to break.”
That I knew, but it was no longer what I was concerned about. Something else she had said was heavy on my mind now. “There are dragons in this realm?”
That started another fit of laughter at my expense, like I’d just told the best joke in all Seven Realms. My anger was becoming difficult to restrain.
“Oh, goddess preserve me. They really hid everything from you.” Branwyn’s laughter transformed into something uncomfortably close to pity, and that irritated me even more.
Mairenn shrugged. “Of course, there are dragons. And wyverns. Things with teeth and wings you’ve never dreamed of. Most keep to the deep places, away from half-born eyes. But they’ve always been here.”
I stared, pulse hammering and said between grit teeth, “And no one thought to tell me?”
“They wanted you obedient,” Branwyn said quietly. “Chained by ignorance. You can’t question what you don’t know exists.”
Mairenn rolled onto her side, still grinning. “And if you had known? You’d have found a way to Cindraloch to find one. Imagine the chaos.”
Branwyn’s eyes gleamed as she rolled them. “But it seems to me you’ve already found a dragon. He just happens to walk on two legs and brood constantly.”
A rap at the door cut through the tension. The innkeeper’s boy shuffled in with a tray of bread and steaming stew. His cautious gaze lingered too long, until the weight of Scáthae’s presence pressed through the wall and he scuttled out without a word.
The moment the door shut, Branwyn clapped her hands, wicked grin flashing. “One problem solved.” She lifted her palm, whispered Léirigh, and a carafe of red wine shimmered into being.
“Branwyn,” I hissed, glancing at the door. “Tairngire said to be careful with magic use. We’re close to Neit’s borders—”
She waved me off. “Oh, don’t get your knickers in a knot, Aurenya. A jug of wine won’t bring down the walls. And goddess knows we’ll need it if we’re going to be sharing a roof with Goibniu’s wretched daughters.”
Mairenn scrunched her nose in offense, snatching her cup. “Besides, if anyone could conjure alcohol unnoticed, it’s the Morrígan’s daughter.”
Her words did nothing to unsettle the anxiety coiled in my chest, but I drank anyway. The fire and food settled heavy in my stomach.
Unease was still thick in the air.