Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Points Of Interest
Aoife felt calm. At least, she was trying to feel calm.
She sat alone at a table in the corner of the Halcin bar, a greenish drink on her table, the words around her a whir of language she didn’t understand.
Smoke wafted to the ceiling from what looked like tobacco pipes that a few men were smoking.
Halcin waitresses served drinks and food, games were played, stories were exchanged.
She watched all of this, trying to focus, trying to be fascinated, trying to learn about Halcin culture.
It helped her to ignore the fear that something was happening to Shadach.
Something awful. His plan had been too risky, too dangerous to even speak it.
For that, Aoife wanted to yell at him and make love to him in equal measure.
“Enjoying ourselves, are we?”
Aoife nearly lurched out of her bones at that voice. Calculating. Menacing. Hallus.
“What do you want?” she said. Or rather threatened.
He laughed, but there was a tenseness to the gesture. “I wanted to congratulate you on being alive.”
“No thanks to you.”
Hallus sat beside Aoife. “You asked to see Lord Patin. Did I not deliver?”
“I didn’t ask to be almost killed.”
“You should have been more specific with your request.”
Faster than Aoife could stop herself, her elbow smashed into Hallus’ face.
He should have thought twice about sitting so close to her.
Hallus crashed to the wood floor and the bar went perfectly silent.
Several men stood, ready for a fight. Aoife was flattered they thought it would take that many men to subdue her.
Hallus raised his hand, waving them away.
“I possibly deserved that.” Spittles of blood dripped from his mouth as he spoke. Hallus righted his chair, sitting a bit further from Aoife this time.
“How much did you pay Aris to abandon me?” Aoife’s heart thudded with not-yet-forgotten fury.
“Nothing.” Hallus looked behind him, searching for something. “He owed me a favour. But he feels just awful about what he did.”
“I’m sure he does.” Aoife’s tone was as flat as a dead man’s heartbeat. “I didn’t get your precious ring.”
“I would have been shocked if you had,” Hallus waved over a waitress and ordered a drink, “seeing as it doesn’t exist.”
“You asshole.”
“Yes, my asshole-ness has been well established. Thank you.” His razor thin smile made Aoife want to punch him again. “I may have misjudged you, though. Surviving Lord Patin is not an easy feat.” His tone almost sounded apologetic. Almost.
The waitress brought Hallus a drink of amber. Beer, or something like it, Aoife guessed.
“Are you worried?” He studied the beer as if trying to determine its vintage.
“About what?”
“About what Shadach is doing.”
“No,” she lied. And Hallus knew she’d lied. And she knew that he knew that she’d lied.
“Did he tell you what he’s up to?”
Aoife’s stomach went tight as if someone had stapled it in half.
“Of course,” she said. Another lie she couldn’t help telling.
“He didn’t tell anyone, not even you?” Hallus leaned back in his chair. “How interesting.”
~*~
The Shadows grated on her skin. They slunk around the Halcin bar, their inky tendrils poking at her. Mocking her worry. Aoife picked up her drink. She set it down. Picked it up again. Set it down again. Why wasn’t Shadach back yet? It was almost midnight.
Almost the end.
If something had happened to Shadach, how would she find out? Would anyone tell her? Would anyone even know? Her stomach might as well have been the size of a penny, pressed and folded with worry as it was.
Then, she heard her name. If God himself had said the word, it would not have sounded as sweet. Aoife stood. Turned. There he was, eyes of shadow and ice. Hair of darkness. Body of strength and power.
He looked at her like a soldier back from war and she looked at him like the only man she would ever love. Because he was.
Aoife went to him, her body light and free in his powerful embrace.
“You’re alive.” She kissed him. His face. His lips. His hands.
“We’re both alive,” he said, his voice rich. “We’ve done it.”
He dropped a bag to the floor and Aoife heard the clink of jewels. The bar went deafeningly silent.
Shadach announced something to the room in Halcin, presumably that he had passed the test. Aoife thought she’d heard the word for trial: yesper.
Silence.
More silence.
Even more silence.
Then she heard Hallus uttering what sounded like a truly impressive string of curses. He went to the bag and opened it, the other Halcin crowding around him.
He did it, Aoife thought to herself as she held him close. Shadach had really done it. He had saved them. But how? There was time for that later. Right now was a time for celebration.
Hallus said something to Shadach, his eyes filled with rage, his voice desperate verging on whining.
Shadach said something back that earned him a few chuckles from bystanders as Hallus searched through the bag.
“Hallus doesn’t believe these are really Lord Patin’s jewels,” Shadach whispered to Aoife. “I’ve reminded him that only Lord Patin has the Diamond of the Blue North, a cherished Halcin relic, which is now in that bag.”
Pausing, Hallus pulled out a jewel of translucent blue as big as Aoife’s hand.
Hallus swore again then shoved what was presumably the Diamond of the Blue North back into the bag.
The room erupted with cheers. Suddenly, Aoife was a ship at sea in a storm, being pushed back and forth as the entire bar struggled to crowd around Shadach.
All the hate from before, the anger, the judgement, the ridicule …
just like that it was gone. He was one of them again. Accepted. Celebrated.
Aoife found herself alone, outside the crowd, having been shoved aside like the outsider she was.
She swallowed the thickness in her throat, a sinister little voice asking her if this was what life was going to be like.
Shadach in there and her out here. Alone.
But then Shadach broke through the crowd and found her. Just like he always had.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered in her ear. His hot breath on her skin took her own breath away.
They hurried back to their bedroom, the jewels secure in a safe at the bar. The instant they were in the door, Shadach pulled Aoife to him. She folded into his embrace, into the strength of his arms that left her tender without making her weak.
“You were all I could think about,” he said, kissing her once, twice, three times. “Knowing I had to get back to you, it kept me strong.”
“I nearly went crazy thinking I might have lost you.” Aoife chewed on his lip, kissing him, tasting him, memorising him as if that might still be a possibility.
“You’ll never lose me.” The passion of his words made her moan, made her insides tighten in anticipation of him.
Not to mention the way he was slipping his hand up her skirt.
Feeling her. As if he were memorising her, too.
With deft hands, he undid the buttons on the back of her dress then traced her spine with a light, delicate touch.
A delicious torture.
There were far more tantalising places he could have touched, and yet, Shadach made every place on her body feel erotic.
He touched the back of her neck, making her arch and turn her face to his, her mouth open and inviting him in.
Aoife clawed her fingers down his chest, her viciously passionate answer to his enticing softness.
Interesting.
Hallus’ sinister little word echoed in Aoife’s mind, a cold shower to her sex-crazed body. What was so interesting about it? So what if Shadach hadn’t told her his plans? He would tell her now. Or soon. Maybe not right this minute. There were more pressing matters.
Shadach walked her backwards until her legs hit the wood frame of the bed, the floor creaking beneath her feet.
Aoife kissed him, something more than passion turning inside her.
Desperation, perhaps. But not desperate need for Shadach.
No. Desperation for something else. For rightness.
For that niggle in her mind to disappear.
With heated patience, Shadach traced her jaw with his fingers, making her sway into him.
She kissed his hand, tasting his fingers.
Rich and raw and just a little metallic from handling the jewels.
Sliding his hand to her backside, Shadach gripped her ass, pulling her close.
Aoife gasped at the pressure in all the right places.
Her breasts pressed into him, her pussy brushing against his pelvis.
Her ass in his hand was ready and waiting for whatever he commanded.
Shadach lifted her, then lay her on the bed, the sound of laughter outside serenading them as someone sang a joyful tune.
The rise and fall of the song ebbed and dipped to the flow of Aoife’s wild heart.
Shadach’s fingers left trails of fire on her skin as he worked his way down her body, feeling and teasing and making her squirm beneath him. The things he could do to her. As if she were a canvas and he were a master artist.
Which, of course, he was.
Aoife melted into the soft bed, the earthy scent of him on the sheets making her body twirl with primal emotions. No niggles. No questions. No doubts.
“I can practically hear you thinking,” Shadach whispered. His breath was hot against her ear, the lusty heat turning a new flame inside her. Aoife turned her face to his and kissed his lips, his nose, his cheeks. Passionate.
Desperate.
“Then make me stop,” she said. Although it came out every bit as seductive as she had meant, she also meant it quite literally.
She didn’t want to think. Now was the time for passion.
For oneness. Not for letting Hallus or anyone else get to her.
They had won. They had beaten every odd stacked against them. They deserved a moment to celebrate.