Chapter 33 #2
He fucking shrugs. “I think so.”
“And you hid this from me because…” I scold him.
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d believe me.”
By the time we’re done with our little aparté, Lysandra has settled for the rye, and Herbert serves us all a bowl of steaming stew.
Meeting my inquisitive gaze, he lays a spoon beside the bowl. “Eat, hun. We all have a big day tomorrow.”
I offer him a quick smile, and he goes back to polishing his counter, humming a quiet tune.
I pick up the spoon not to insult anyone. “So, Lysandra, you’re a Tidecaller and a witch?”
She tucks her hair behind her ears and nods.
“In a sense. I’m originally a witch from the Bloodvale coven.
We had almost completely assimilated to mortal life before the Lord of the Tides opened up our world, and very few of us were still practising.
I’ve been recruiting lost, abandoned witches from the new world ever since, trying to regrow our numbers so we become strong enough to unseat the Reds.
Luther’s men are here to help, but it’s not their homeland.
They don’t understand the forest the way we do. ”
She picks apart her bread and dumps it into her bowl. “When I met Nick, and he told me how you two were born in Scotland—”
So he didn’t tell her the whole story of his impossible birth.
Phew.
Nick and I eat as she goes on about her childhood, about growing up in the New World, and I listen intently, sharing bits of our past as well, surprised by how similar our stories are.
Lysandra recounts their first meeting, and there are no half-truths, no red flags. She’s as transparent in her crush on him as she was in her lust for the dark Fae prince.
“I knew Nickolas had to see this.” She gestures to the tavern and beyond in a circular motion, her expression softening.
“We’re more than rebels—we’re family. Witches and Tidecallers, whether Fae or seed, and from all courts, we don’t discriminate.
All we want is to end the Red Queen’s tyranny over the Red Forest—all kings’ and queens’ tyranny—and put the power back into the common folk’s hands.
” She rests her hand over Nick’s and sighs.
“We’ll make them pay for what they did to us. Together.”
Nick flips his hand over to link their fingers. “Absolutely.”
The look they exchange is all heat, and I bite back a smirk. My brother, holding hands with a girl… I never thought I’d see the day.
She scrapes the bottom of her stew and pushes the empty bowl aside. “Well, I’m heading upstairs. Herb is right, we need as much rest as we can get. There’s an empty room available for visitors.” Lysandra stands, her eyes never leaving Nick. “Just ask for the key when you’re ready to turn in, Max.”
She shoots Nick a smoldering glance as she leaves, and he stumbles to his feet.
“I’ll see you later, Maxie.” He hesitates, then raises a palm between us in a halting gesture. “Don’t—don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I’ll meet you back here before dawn.”
Lysandra smiles as Nick runs after her up the stairs, and I roll my eyes. Rest. Right.
I sit at the bar, my fingers curled loosely around my mug. To Herbert, it looks as though I’ve just been ditched by my brother and his lover—but I’m not alone.
The cook-slash-bartender heads for the kitchen with our dishes.
“Well… I know what those two will be doing, that’s for sure,” E whispers, and a quiet laugh rumbles through me.
He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of him, and the steady press of his hand at my waist draws a shaky breath out of my lungs.
After the snake, I nearly didn’t make it here at all… The thought of a quiet room, of being alone with him after a day like this, stirs something reckless in me.
I lean back and feel him solid behind me. The heat of his body brings me back to this morning in the tent, to all he promised to do to me when we were alone.
“Me, I’m actually tired,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
“You almost died today.”
“And you still won’t tell me what happened?” I ask, half-teasing.
“Nope. Take it up with your brother.”
Nick still owes me an explanation, but I couldn’t bring myself to cock-block him.
I thank Herbert for the stew and ask for the spare room key.
The burly bartender hands it over without question. “Night, hun.”
“Oh.” I hesitate before walking off. “Can I get another bowl? I can eat it upstairs, if that’s alright. It was delicious.”
Herbert chuckles. “Found yer appetite, did ye?” He throws his rag over his shoulder and comes back a minute later with a fresh bowl of stew and a piece of rye sticking out of the side. “Enjoy it, hun. Do you need help carrying ye stuff upstairs?”
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
I thank him again for the extra portion and head for the stairs with all my things. To my relief, my assigned room is on the opposite side of Lysandra’s, either by chance or by design.
I fumble with the key while E holds the stew, freeing me to open the door for us.
“Thank you. I was famished, and now I get to eat you for dessert,” he says.
There’s a joy to him, a lightness I’ve rarely heard, and I follow him inside the room, feeling both elated and nervous.
Whatever happens, I’m never going to sleep tonight.