Chapter Nine #7
“That’s not hilarious,” Alisdair barked. “He’s clumsier than a one-footed fool. Fitting that the first thing you do in the morning is humiliate yourself.”
Fintan flinched. “Yes, my lord.”
I flapped a hand over my shoulder. “Don’t mind him. I want to learn everything about you. Tell me about your family. How did you come to live in Lumenfell?”
“I thought this was a runes lesson,” Alisdair said. “Not mindless chatter time.”
“Oh,” I cried, covering my mouth. “You’re right, husband. We wouldn’t want to disturb you. We’ll be quieter.” I leaned over the table, putting my mouth close to his ear.
Alisdair’s snarls ratcheted up so high, my natural survival instincts flooded my pumping heart with adrenaline. All my senses were telling me to run.
“So,” I whispered. “What were we talking about? Oh, right! You were going to tell me how you became so smart and sweet.”
Crash!
“That’s enough.” Alisdair sprung to his feet, toppling his chair. “This lesson is over. Back to your post.”
“It’s not done.” My hand flashed and grabbed the head of Fintan’s chair—trapping him between me and the wall. “I’ve only learned two runes. Fintan, sweetie, be a dear, and teach me what the ones on my arm mean.”
“Uh... uh...” Poor guy looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
I felt bad for using him, but Eadaoin was a genius. Most of the time when Alisdair and I were in the same room, he was ignoring me, barking instructions at me, mocking me, or drilling me from behind. This was the first he ever fought for my attention.
It was the first time he’d gotten jealous.
“This is... nightfall,” Fintan croaked. “That means—"
I leaned in closer. “Do you have a lover, Fintan? Handsome man like you, someone must have snapped—”
A blur roared up out of the corner of my eye.
Alisdair ripped Fintan out of the chair, and threw him headfirst out the window. My screams echoed over the shattered glass and fading shouts.
“Mother Fucking Meya!” I shrieked, eyes popping. “What did you do!?”
“What I did was tell him to return to his post.” Alisdair sniffed, dusting himself off. “Next time he’ll listen.”
“Next time?!” My voice was hitting undiscovered octaves. “There won’t be a next time! You killed him!”
I rushed to the window. Fintan was a black, unmoving mass in the snow. A dark, reddish pool grew around him, staining the white red. “Oh no,” I breathed. “I have to go see if he’s ok—”
A fist punched the wall—scattering flecks of stone that hit my neck. Now, I was the one trapped.
He leaned in—closer, closer, closer—until there was an eyelash’s-length distance between our bodies. “You will never speak to that insubordinate worm again, or next time, I won’t be so forgiving. Am I making myself clear?”
I swallowed hard. Why didn’t I learn from our first meeting? I plunged a sword in his chest, and the man married me. Alisdair never does what I expect.
Chest heaving, I lifted my chin. “Maybe I want to speak to that insubordinate worm again?”
His fiery displeasure vibrated from his chest to mine.
“I’ll have to,” I plowed on. “He’s my runic magic teacher.”
“I am your runic magic teacher!”
“You’re too busy to teach me!”
“I’m never too busy for you,” he roared, blowing me back. “Never, little bird. You always have my time and attention. Always.”
My lips parted, but nothing came out. There wasn’t a chance to speak. Alisdair was already slamming out the door.
I slid down the wall, sitting down hard. Closing my eyes, I pressed the heel of my palm to my fluttering heart. “Don’t do that,” I whispered. “You can’t fall for your own game. I can’t cut you out too.”
THAT NIGHT, I SKIPPED dinner in the dining hall, and asked for a tray on the terrace.
The Riagin Gardens were beautiful at night. There were no starflowers, but magic I’d never heard of bathed the flowers in steady warmth. It melted the snow around the flowerbeds, allowing the ice water to flow into little contraptions rigged up to spray a steady mist over the begonias and orchids.
I was so enamored with it all, my pheasant chilled on my plate while I crouched in the snow—studying how it was all done.
“Mimicking the humidity,” I muttered. “Giving them hot and wet in a land that’s cold and dry. Genius.”
I didn’t grow flowers back at home. Flowers didn’t fill a hungry belly, but if I had the chance, I would’ve loved to fill our tiny, cramped space with beauty. There was just something about taking a tiny, helpless seed and nurturing it to its full and natural potential.
I couldn’t control anything in my life. I couldn’t stop them binding my magic. I couldn’t keep Kirwan out of our lives. I couldn’t prevent Mama’s illness. But what I could do was take a seed and grow a cucumber. A small and unimpressive power, but it was mine.
“I’m never too busy for you.”
I tossed my head, groaning. I was doing well. I’d gone a whole hour without thinking of Alisdair and what happened in the war room. The flowers couldn’t distract me for long.
Let it go, my mind ordered. You know he didn’t mean it. He says things like that to mess with your head. Don’t allow it to work. You’re here to make him fall in love with you. Not the other way around.
I repeated that to myself over and over until I believed it.
I made Alisdair jealous, so he reasserted his ownership of me by his usual methods of violence and head-scrambling compliments.
What mattered is that I did what I had to do.
I made Alisdair break down and prove I was something he wanted. Not tolerated, endured, or despised.
Wanted.
That’s what Eadaoin was trying to tell me. Her soldier didn’t know what he wanted until she was right there, bouncing on another man’s lap. The first step was getting him to stop masking his feelings behind sarcasm and disdain. What I needed to do next was improve upon my progress and... and...
“And what?” I sighed. “I have no idea what to do now. I can’t even face him.”
I needed another distraction—quickly.
Rocking back on my heels, I tried to recall the nursery rhymes I sang to Savia. Those were my favorite memories with her—crooning softly to my baby sister while she slept peacefully in the sling. Maybe, just maybe, the right verse would bring her sweet face back to me.
A song floated to the surface—alive in my memory and Emiana’s. Seemed her mother used to sing to her too. Before the sickness took her.
Leaning back over the flowers, I sang—crooning for my dew-kissed begonias.
I don’t know how long I knelt there, singing to the garden, but Savia’s face never came to me. Though tears did.
Crunch.
I stopped and quickly wiped my face. “Aeris, there you are. Did you check on Fintan? Is he—?” I twisted, and landed on Alisdair in the doorway.
He watched me—expression unreadable.
I froze as if not moving would stop him seeing me. What was he thinking? Was he mad he caught me asking after Fintan’s welfare? If he was, too bad. I got the poor man thrown out of a window. The least I could do was apologize.
“We don’t need that siren,” he said. “The beauty of your voice would bring any man to his knees.”
He walked away, leaving me blinking and shaking in the snow.
Alisdair was right. This was the deadliest game I’ve ever played, and I couldn’t tell whether I was happy or sad... that I was losing.