14
Finn
The sun sets quickly this high in the mountains. So quickly the camp is plunged into darkness and torchlight just a few minutes after Soleil and I part ways as we head toward where everyone is gathering for dinner.
She’s gone off to find Vayla and give her an update about the work we completed in the healers’ tent, and I try to keep myself from looking for her.
Minutes.
We’ve only been apart a few minutes.
And yet.
From where I stand, near a handful of the other guards who’ll be staying for the full time we’re encamped here, my eyes have a mind of their own. They keep wandering away, sliding over the tents, the fire, the guards, until they find her.
And then they’re caught.
Utterly, completely caught. Making myself look away is a monumental effort that only lasts a few paltry seconds until I’m searching for her again.
When I glance over once more and find her deep in conversation with Vayla and an apprentice healer who joined the expedition, I let them linger, ready to dart away at a moment’s notice so she doesn’t catch on to how pathetic I’m being right now.
My mate looks radiant today.
Even after the tough start the day got off to, there’s no one else in this camp—likely no one else in any of the thirteen realms—who can compare.
Soleil is wearing a plain, practical black dress. Long, with sleeves that go to her wrists and a high, square neckline. Over it, an emerald green shawl draped around her shoulders to ward off the evening chill. It’s a nice outfit, nothing even remotely scandalous or seductive about it.
On her, though?
It might as well be the realm’s finest gown.
All day, I’ve been trying to keep my eyes from wandering, trying to keep them at a respectable height and not leer after my mate like some kind of lecher.
But goddess, she looks good.
Even the demure cut of her dress can’t hide the contours of the body beneath. Wide, luscious hips and a softly rounded stomach. Full breasts I am absolutely, positively not looking at. Shapely thighs, and an ass unlike anything I’ve ever—
Soleil looks up, catches my eye, and I immediately turn away as a blush stains my cheeks.
A blush.
An honest-to-Goddess blush.
When I realize, it just makes that color rise higher.
I hope like hells she can’t see.
Wouldn’t that just be fitting, after how I’ve been mooning over her this afternoon, for her to see how absolutely unraveled she makes me with a single glance.
I was more honest with her than I meant to be when we spoke in the tent.
Goddess, we only just met. I had no business spilling my heart out like that.
Something about Soleil makes me forget myself. Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise, given who she is to me, but something about her makes it impossible to remember I should take this slow, give her space, perhaps woo her a little with the charm I’ve so carefully cultivated over all these years.
She’s absolute chaos for my sense of dignity and control, and as much as it pains me, I wouldn’t change it for anything.
“Finn,” Glenson says as he walks over and claps me on the shoulder. “Anything to report today?”
“Nothing. All peaceful around here.”
“Good, good.” He sounds a little distracted as his eyes roam over the assembled group. At least until they land on…
“Any sign of the drakons?” I ask, and he looks back to me.
It’s likely just my imagination, the way his gaze lingered on Soleil.
Just my overwrought nerves and the way my balance has been entirely knocked off-kilter.
Glenson shakes his head. “They won’t bother us here at camp. For all their fire, they don’t like the torchlight or the scent of demons. Fierce beasts, but solitary ones who would much rather be left alone.”
I nod, glad for that. I’ve only ever seen a drakon from afar and am not keen to run into one up close and personal.
“Come on,” Glenson says, nodding toward the center of camp. “I think they’ve just about gotten dinner ready.”
The meal is simple but delicious. A handful of game birds other guards hunted down this afternoon, some wild parsnips, a few loaves of bread and fresh butter brought with the supplies.
Petyr is apparently the best cook in the group, and he’s made a feast of the simple fare, which we all take with gratitude as we find our seats around the fire.
Someone must have found places for a few bottles of liquor within the supply caches, because that’s flowing, too. Laughter, conversation, delicious food, strong drink, and a crackling fire to keep us all warm in the chill of the mountain night, the evening has all the hallmarks of a party.
A rough-spun party, but a good one.
As always, my eyes seek my witch as soon as I have a spare moment to notice she’s not beside me.
Soleil is seated near Vayla, finishing her own meal and taking a tentative sip of the liquor. Her nose scrunches, she has to fight back a cough, and I can’t hide my grin.
As the night wears on, though, she seems a bit uncomfortable with the larger group.
Perhaps she’s not a fan of parties, not one for bawdy jokes and several strains of conversation competing for center stage.
Or perhaps it’s just because she’s the novelty tonight, the only human among a bunch of demons. No one has been rude to her or said anything offensive, but they all have plenty of questions about her and her realm. Unsurprising, given how much stir these humans have caused in the demon realm.
Glenson, especially, seems fascinated.
It’s been damned hard not to bite his head off, to tell him to ease up, leave her alone, give my mate some breathing room and… and…
That’s the problem.
I haven’t told anyone Soleil’s my mate.
Vayla seems to know, given her pointed looks in our direction, but as far as I’m aware, no one else does.
Surely, they can sense something strange and strained between us, but unless they’ve drawn their own correct conclusions, I haven’t said a word.
I’ve got far more than a word I’d like to say now as Glenson peppers her with questions.
But Soleil hasn’t seemed to take too much issue with answering, and after how I’ve hovered over her today, it’s likely not my place to play protector.
“Tell us more about the coven.”
Soleil pokes at the fire with the long stick she’s holding.
Her expression has gone back to being more closed, guarded; the brief glimpse I got earlier of something warm and teasing replaced by the same implacable, professional calm she seems to show everyone else.
“What do you want to know?” she asks.
“Anything, really,” Glenson says eagerly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Is Esme Hawthorn as fierce and terrifying as they say she is?”
Soleil laughs, but the sound of it is hollow. “No. And… yes. It’s complicated.”
“And does she rule the coven with an iron fist, as some of your fellow witches have said?”
Soleil’s brow furrows.
Goddess, this idiot needs to back off.
“It’s not just Esme making all the rules,” she says slowly. “There are other witches, Ascended witches, who sit on the council.”
“And they can overrule the High Priestess?” Glenson asks.
“Not really. I suppose it’s like…” She thinks for a moment. “A court. Like the demon court. You’ve got a ruler and a council to give the ruler advice, and everyone else just has to fall in line.”
Petyr grunts. “King Eren is a fair ruler.”
“I’m sure he is,” Soleil says quickly. “And Esme is too… in her way. The things she does, how strict some of the rules might be… it’s really all for our safety, at the end of the day.”
“You’re not safe back in your realm?”
The question slips out before I can think better of it, and Soleil’s gaze finds mine across the fire.
“We’re as safe as we can be. Witches—anyone who uses magick, really—are never truly safe.
The world either thinks we don’t exist, or would be horrified to know we do.
” She lets out a long breath. “Again, it’s complicated.
There’s history and religion and a bunch of other things that mean we can’t exactly exist in the world as we are. ”
Her eyes go sad and far away, as if she’s looking at something the rest of us can’t see.
Golden firelight gilds their emerald depths, and it takes everything in me not to stand from my seat and go over to sit beside her, take her hand, do whatever I can to lighten her mood until that melancholy disappears.
“Anyway.” She shrugs, putting that damned placid expression back on her face. “It’s just… different, being a magick-user in my realm. Not like it is here in yours.”
Vayla shakes her head. “No wonder so many of your kind choose to come here.”
Soleil chuckles, and the sound has some actual humor in it this time. “Well, that’s one reason. Everyone getting an eyeful of the king when he came for Allie didn’t hurt, either.”
“What do you mean?” Again, I can’t stop myself from asking.
Her cheeks flush a deep, embarrassed pink. “Well… he’s very, uh…”
“Handsome? Sexy? Irresistible?” Vayla supplies. “Wings and horns and a tail really do it for you witches, eh?”
Soleil ducks her head, and everyone around the fire shares a laugh.
Warmth suffuses my chest.
Does my witch find demons attractive?
She sure seemed to when we spoke earlier in the healers’ tent.
The blush on her cheeks, the way she teased me, the unexpected delight of her sharp wit. None of it suggested she was repulsed by my presence.
Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately, for me and my ego—the conversation meanders away from how attractive witches find demons and on to other topics.
Soleil chimes in now and again, but mostly seems content to observe.
How different from me, my mate is.
I can’t stop myself from jumping in at any opportunity, from inserting myself right into the center of every social gathering. I live on it, thrive on it, and maybe it’s something I could give to her.
If Soleil’s not a social butterfly, I’ll never mind carrying the conversational burden for her.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. One night, one conversation—especially considering she’s in a new and disorienting environment—certainly doesn’t signify an entire personality.
One by one, most of the party drifts off to bed.