Chapter Nine
A Dying Star
He had insisted I was nothing more than a witness, yet after my questioning and a quick bowl of stew, I was confined to my room and told not to leave.
“You’ve had back to back shocks. You’re the sole witness to a confirmed sighting of the most wanted person in the Kingdom. You’re going to stay put, Rosie.”
“But Sorcha–”
“She’s surrounded by soldiers and she’s got Brennan washing dishes, for fuck’s sake.” His lip twitched. “She’ll be just fine.”
I went limp, half with relief that Sorcha was safe – half put out that I’d lost my one excuse to get up and burn off all this nervous energy humming through me. The Captain shut my bedroom door, pausing a moment with his back to me before he turned and leaned against it, brow tense.
“We’re going to have you under guard for the night.”
“You think they’re coming back?”
The words squeaked out of me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be embarrassed.
My Flame beat a frantic rhythm at odds with my thundering heart, the crash of my magic and pulse making the fire flare.
At least in the privacy of my bedroom, I didn’t have to afford the effort to contain it.
The slight glow caught the Captain’s eye, and he took a dazed half step forward like a moth drawn in before he caught himself.
“It’s just a precaution,” he said, voice a little low and dazed. He cleared his throat and dragged his gaze from my Flame to my face. “And after what you told us about the tea, Brennan and I have agreed we don’t have much choice.”
“You think they poisoned me?”
I was quietly shrieking now, fire racing down my arms unbidden. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Not in my opinion, no. There was still some tea in the pot, we’ve got a few herbal specialists in our ranks who want to look into it. It’s just –”
“A precaution,” I echoed.
I could tell there was something more by the way he stood suspended in the small space between my bed and the door, the breadth of his shoulders too straight and tense.
He reached up to grab the back of his neck, and his arm flexed with the movement, catching my eyes like the glow of my magic had caught his.
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a fright.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He huffed out a half-laugh, and I could tell he disagreed, but he let it go. He was still kneading at the back of his neck, though – still skirting around something else, something more he had to tell me.
I raised an expectant brow and he smiled, a little sheepish before he straightened up and cleared his throat, all business.
“I thought maybe I could be your guard for the night,” he said steadily. Then hurried to add; “I can assign someone else, if you’d prefer.”
“You’re going to stay with me?”
He paused, unreadable as ever – then nodded.
“Alright,” I said softly.
“I could grab a chair, sleep outside the door–”
“No,” I cut in, a little too quick. “No, you don’t have to do that. You – you can stay in here.”
I didn’t miss the twitch of his lip, and he didn’t miss the answering flicker of my magic. We both glanced away, and I willed my Flame to calm down, or at the very least to vacate my quickly reddening face.
He’s here to guard us, I told it. Nothing else.
The uneven ripple of that fire in my chest felt oddly close to mocking laughter.
Impudent little parasite.
It only burned hotter.
When I looked up, Caelan was once more grabbing at his neck in that same nervous way that did such distracting things to his biceps.
“I suppose I’ll just go have a word with Brennan, and then –”
He cut himself off and shot me a glance, some question in his gaze that I had no hope of deciphering. I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, not that it did anything to relieve the tension threading my every word.
“And then you’ll be back.”
His grin flashed so bright and sudden that it disarmed me and robbed the little breath left in my lungs. I was sure it had overtaken him too, especially when he fought it down to a smirk, voice a little hoarser when he said; “And then I’ll be back.”
I bit against the answering curve of my own lips and held myself entirely still until the door clicked shut behind him.
Only then did I flop back on my pillows and let my whole body sink into the bed, the painful tension seeping out of every coiled muscle.
He’d be back. That knowledge swept over me like a gentle, stroking hand to the chaos of my thoughts.
I hadn’t noticed the adrenaline hiding in the shadow of my Flame until its frantic hum began to quiet and the ensuing peace made my blinks turn slow and heavy.
I knew I ought to sit up if I had a hope of being awake when Caelan returned, but my muscles had melted into the mattress and I could not have moved even if my Flame leapt from my chest and set the whole building alight.
My eyes ached to close. I fought the urge until they rolled in my head.
???
“You’re awake.”
I wasn’t sure how he could tell, because I certainly didn’t realise until I heard his voice.
I rolled over and glanced around for him through one cracked eye.
He sat in the corner, looking almost comically massive perched upon the tiny stool I kept tucked beneath my vanity table.
It can’t have been terribly comfortable, either.
I propped myself up on my elbow and peered around blearily.
The light hadn’t shifted much, but even so I asked; “What time is it?”
He shrugged. “Almost midnight.”
“Midnight? I’ve been asleep for hours, weren’t you bored?”
“Far from it.”
He flashed me something in his hand I hadn’t noticed; a book with an unassuming blue cover and The Nightingale Jewel printed in flowery white script.
A very familiar, very dog-eared book. I groaned, knowing what was coming even before he grinned at me, so broad the soft lantern light flashed off his incisors like wicked fangs.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled.
“Didn’t know you read bodice rippers.”
“Didn’t know you could read.”
I smiled sweetly and he barked out a shocked laugh that made my heart swell. He clutched at his broad chest with one hand like I’d mortally wounded him.
“Gods, you’re a mean little thing.” His eyes glinted as they swept the length of me, head tilted. “Why do I love that about you?”
The sudden colour in my face woke my Flame, and it rose with acute interest before diving into my belly to squirm and riot.
Rendered speechless, I wrenched my gaze from his and scooted off the bed, head bent to hide my red cheeks – though I was sure he’d caught them anyway.
This man didn’t miss a thing. I could still feel his eyes on me as I feigned a sleepy stretch and finally turned to meet his gaze, perhaps a little too boldly.
“What?”
He smirked, so subtle that only the slight twitch of his scar gave him away. “Nothing at all. Whiskey?”
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and I peered around him to see two small tumblers and a large bottle he’d obviously swiped from my bar. I raised a brow at the alcohol.
“Should I be drinking whiskey?”
“Turns out the tea wasn’t poisoned. Thought you could probably use a stiff drink.” He paused and gave me a look that turned my insides molten. “Unless you’d rather go back to bed.”
If he heard my very audible swallow, he had the grace to ignore it. I crossed the short distance to the vanity, and he stood as I drew even with him, bringing us much closer than I’d anticipated, his chest level with my face. Somehow, I held both my ground and his eye.
“I’m not tired,” I said.
“Me neither.”
He took a swift step to the side and gestured for me to take the seat, then turned to pour us both a generous measure of whiskey.
“So we’re just going to drink until dawn? And then what, I’m free?”
He snorted. “You were never captive to begin with. This is about your safety, remember?”
When I didn’t answer, he peered sideways, scrutinising me from the corner of his eye as he replaced the cork in the bottle. He handed me a tumbler, a small smirk hiding in the dark bristle of his beard.
“We could talk.”
I raised a brow, and he laughed that big laugh of his, a thunderclap rolling down a vast mountain valley.
Gods, that laugh. My magic roused at the sound, dancing low in my belly to the deep, rumbling rhythm of it like a song it knew by heart.
I took a long gulp, hoping to douse some of that overeager Flame before it got out of hand. Again.
“Come now, Rosie,” he teased. “Don’t you want to get to know me better?”
He spread his arms wide, as though inviting me to assess him.
I took another sip. “I know you plenty.”
He pressed his lips together and swiped the other tumbler from the vanity, dropping to the corner of my bed. The space was small enough that our knees still brushed as he settled himself and caught my eye.
“Well, I want to know you.”
My chest went hot and tight, then loose with an explosion of fluttering, a fiery cloud of butterflies. My shaking breath gave me away, but I tilted my glass at him as steadily as I could. “Ask away, then.”
“A question for a question?”
I nodded.
“Nothing’s off limits,” he added.
I swayed my head in a we’ll see sort of gesture, but he was already leaning forward, drink balanced on one knee. His grin stretched his scar taut, eyes dancing with mischief. I squirmed inwardly, already regretting submitting to this game.
“Favourite colour?”
I laughed, surprised. “Really?”
“Nothing’s off limits,” he said seriously.
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I answered; “Purple. Like lavender.”
“Purple.” He echoed my answer softly, as though I’d imparted some great wisdom.
“Yours?”
“Brown,” he said, without hesitation.
I wrinkled my nose. “Brown? Nobody’s favourite colour is brown.”
“Mine is,” he said firmly. “My turn. How did you end up running a tavern, alone, in the middle of nowhere?”
I blinked, a little thrown by the sharp turn in the conversation. I clutched my tumbler tight in both hands, taking a moment to sort my thoughts.