Chapter 15 #2
“I’ll have to let you know. Right now, I’ve had a really long day. I think it’s best if you go.” I rise and hold out a hand. “Please? I’m selfish and I need an hour to myself. You’d be an angel to let me have it.”
There. Make her seem like she’s doing me a favor.
I inject as much kindness as possible into my voice to let her know it’s not a rejection, although it is. Evie is smart enough to recognize there is more at play than what she sees on the surface. Her eyes narrow, but she finally accepts my offered hand and lets me pull her from the bed.
She lands in front of me, tilting her chin up. “Playing hard to get.”
“You’re exquisite, as always, but timing has never been your greatest strength.”
“Selfish, indeed.” Evie clucks her tongue. “An hour with me would be far more… illuminating than whatever brooding you’re planning.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Smiling, aching to rush her out, I force myself to go slow and maneuver her toward the door. Decorum in all things, right? It’s the only way to play the game and one of the best lessons I learned from my father.
Diplomacy doesn’t end at the war table. It’s something you cultivate through your life, a skill rather than something you’re born with. And I learned from my mother—
You treat all women with respect. As much as possible, anyway. I’ve played it on a second-to-second basis, and sometimes, I fall short. But not today, not with Evie.
She pauses at the door and holds her hands out in an X, blocking my exit and hers.
She dips her chin, her lashes fluttering shut, black against her skin. “I’ve never thrown myself at a man before.”
There’s nothing to say that won’t dig me deeper into this trap. I force my expression into something that might pass for regret, letting my voice drop to something almost intimate.
“You know I’d rather be anywhere else but here, managing family expectations and political obligations.” I gesture vaguely toward the door. “But timing, as always, is everything.”
The truth wrapped in misdirection—let her think it’s about circumstances, not interest.
It’s a skillful evasion of a mess. I huff out a breath when the door closes with me on one side and Evie on the other. A mess for so many reasons. I finally get her to leave but sitting in the room feels like a cage now.
A cage dipped in gold is still a prison. I’ve been beating myself against different types of bars my entire life.
Tonight, I can do something about it.
Anything.
Well, not anything, because sex is the last thing on my mind despite having a more than willing partner.
I back away toward the mahogany armoire on the far side of the room and pull open the doors, shuffling through the clothes inside.
After changing, I wait a perfunctory five minutes then glance out to make sure Evie is nowhere in sight. The coast is clear so I slip around to the smaller staircase at the end of the hall leading me, as always, down into the bulk of the mountain.
The cave system is a welcome damp cool compared to the stifling halls of the castle and I tug at my collar to will the chilly air across my chest. Even my room isn’t safe anymore if Evie can come and go whenever she gets a wild hair.
What’s going to happen the next time she decides to drop in on me?
Will locking the door deter her? I have doubts.
You’re never going to be able to outrun her, Mozi hisses in my head.
I don’t need to run, just keep one step ahead until this is done.
I make the turns without conscious thought and eventually the tunnel opens up into the same large space Astrid had pointed out to me before. And lucky me.
Things are turning around.
The woman herself adds me to her slow perusal of the space. “And?”
She sizes me up with a slow glide of perusal and apparently finds a lot lacking.
“And what?” I set my stance wide.
“If you want me to flatten you, Kieran, then say so.”
My grin widens slowly. “I’d never be so direct with it.”
“You don’t have to be direct. You give yourself away every time. You’re a terrible actor,” Astrid finishes.
“You’re the actor if you believe you have a chance of taking me down.”
Her voice goes low. “I would have if Headmistress Harbi hadn’t taken you out of sparring class.”
But we both know that Astrid is more than capable of taking me down, which is why I subconsciously sought her out. I need an outlet. Something to get rid of this pulsing energy inside of me.
The golden girl has you worked up more than usual, Mozi says.
You’d be worked up too if a female showed up in your roost when you weren’t expecting it. Demanding you turn yourself on and off like a stud for hire.
Mozi pauses, and then, a different man might have taken advantage of her simply because she presented the offer. Remember that.
Astrid moves into position then stops, lifting a finger to stop me as she removes her weapons from their holsters. “This is so I’m not tempted to use them on you.”
I hold my hands up in front of me. “What did I do to rile you up?”
“It’s constant frustration simmering beneath the surface,” she clarifies. “Generational female rage.”
“Then why is your male mount so irritable all the time?”
“There’s a difference between grumpy and irritable and the fact that you don’t know it breaks my heart.” Astrid tosses her final dagger aside and gestures me forward, dictating the energetic balance of the match.
She’s the type of woman comfortable taking control and yeah, she probably does use her feminine rage to keep a cool head.
Astrid has never been the type to lose her way just because of a feeling. It makes her a badass huntress.
I make the first move, as demanded, swooping toward her and then feinting to the right.
She anticipates the movement and blocks me, but I recover quickly, spinning into a counter-attack that forces her back a step.
Her fist digs into my chest and her smile is feral. “This is about Evie, isn’t it?”
I grunt and retaliate with an uppercut that she barely deflects.
“Did you know?”
Ether forbid Astrid be in on the seduction plot.
Astrid sucks her teeth. “She made noise about seducing you while you were in your meeting.”
It ruffles Astrid’s feathers to not be included but to the outside world, she’s no one important. That’s the way we have to keep it.
“Did she?” I growl.
Astrid kicks out toward my left hip, and I jump back, the tip of her boot connecting with my thigh instead. It throws me off balance, but I come back swinging. She blocks my fist inches in front of her face, and I use the momentum to grab her wrist and pivot, forcing her to stumble.
“You should have heard about her great plans for it. But you’re here and not tangled up with her, so I’m guessing things went awry.”
“I love how blunt you are.” My reply is dirt dry.
Astrid shakes her head and swivels, sending her leg out to trip me. The smooth motion is well practiced but I know her moves as well as she knows mine.
“It saves time.”
She’s breathing hard but controlled. I’m sweating through my shirt, but so is she. We’re both feeling this.
“Perhaps if it had been a certain flame-haired servant warming your sheets, you wouldn’t be here bleeding off frustration.”
I catch the sly glint in Astrid’s eyes before she socks me right in the stomach, and I curve forward, grunting.
The secret sparring cave is perfect, half the size of the private gym but large enough to accommodate a group of people. Right now, it’s only the two of us and our footsteps fly over dirt and gravel, our moves practiced.
Astrid understands my need.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” My voice stays smooth and unbothered. Perfect.
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Sure. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“Drop it.”
The immediate stony reply would shut any normal person down before they stepped foot in that conversation.
Not Astrid. She only chuckles.
“Oh, boy, did I strike a nerve? What’s her name, anyway, the redhead? The one you brought here?”
Normally I don’t mind Astrid’s teasing. We’ve been through enough for the easy banter to roll off of me.
I keep the name to myself and my lips thin into a severe line.
“Wow, more than a nerve. She’s got you riled up.” Astrid chuffs out a laugh before she socks me in the jaw.
Stars dance in front of my eyes, pain ratcheting up my jaw and into my skull. But my wild swing catches her shoulder, and she winces, rolling it out.
“Like I said. Drop it.” The repetition only cements it for Astrid.
She tips her head back in a full laugh and dances back from my wild swings. I land one solid hit to her ribs before she recovers, making her grunt and reassess.
“You really like her! You care about her. I see through your dung, Kieran.”
If she sees it, then others might, too. The pain becomes a secondary annoyance to the chilling flicker of nerves.
It will make Morgan’s life so much worse if people see her importance.
“Lock it up, if you’re worried.” Astrid drops her arms to her side. “You know what happens to people—”
“Yeah,” I interrupt sharply. “I get it.”
I lost my mother for that reason. People die when you care too much. They are the perfect pieces of leverage, dangled like a bribe, until even the strongest warrior caves. I won’t let it happen to anyone else.