Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
The next morning, I woke up in Fieran’s arms. I shifted, feeling his ring pressing uncomfortably between us, and pulled on the leather cord to draw it out from between us.
His signet was tail—either serpent or dragon, both suited him—sword, and crown. Looking back, I could curse myself for not figuring out he was the prince. Perhaps Fieran oversold just how clever I was.
Fieran blinked, asleep one moment and awake the next.
“What am I doing in your bed?”
“Snoring, mostly. I didn’t know mortals made such dreadful sounds.”
I shifted away. He caught me with his hand on my hip, drawing me back toward him. “I’m kidding.”
“I didn’t snore?”
“I did know mortals could snore.”
“I am never going to like you,” I told him.
“Never, Never.” He didn’t sound as if he believed me. His fingers overlapped mine, examining the ring in the light. “You took a shifter down yesterday.”
“Thanks to the ring?” It was a half question. I’d never heard of such a powerful relic before.
“You were the one who acted. The magic just tilts luck in your favor.”
“I think it does far more.” The loan of the ring made me feel unsettled.
I needed it for the next trial; I couldn’t deny that after seeing what happened the day before. But it was a powerful gift.
Fieran seemed like someone whose gifts came with not mere strings, but chains.
“You are bad at trusting people,” Fieran murmured, as if he could read me that easily.
I leaned up on my elbow. “And you are bad at being trustworthy.”
He gave me a grin, but no denial. “It does please me you’re wearing my sigil, even before I claim you for my clan. That’s enough for me. Ander will never see you in his sigil.”
“Jealousy again?”
“He always wants what is mine. He won’t be able to resist trying to pull you away from me.” He ran his thumb over the engraving. “But I gave you my magic and my mark.”
He sounded so self-satisfied to have claimed me, and part of me felt satisfied by that too. It was an impulse I despised in myself. “I want to wear my own mark.”
“Your own sigil?” he mused. “Perhaps you should have one. Every shifter does, as a sign of power. It is a reminder you belong here.”
“I could use it to mark you,” I pointed out.
His gaze met mine, golden and smoldering and far too intimately close. “Is that image supposed to scare me?”
Suddenly, I could barely remember how to breathe.
He pulled my hand to his bare chest. “Show me what your mark would look like.”
I rolled my eyes, but I still traced my nails over his chest. His torso rippled, his muscles tightening in response to my touch; I could’ve sworn he was holding his breath.
I liked seeing the effect I had on him, which seemed just as devastating as his effect on me. That was why I decided to play along.
“I’d make part of mine a wishflower.” I ran my finger in a line from his shoulder down to his dark nipple, marking the vine, and felt his hand flatten against my back as if he wanted to pull me closer.
“Because mortals seem to surrender all magic. That wishflower was always in the forest. I should have searched for it.”
He nodded. “What else?”
I thought for a second, then traced a shape around my flower.
“A shield?” he guessed. Then, before I could correct him, his eyes sparked. “No. The head of a shovel.”
I grinned, pleased he’d figured out my intentions.
“Because you mortals have to fight for your magic, just as you did with the wyrms.”
“I was thinking we have to dig for it. Work for it.”
“There’s a fight ahead of you and every other mortal who wants more,” he promised. “Speaking of which, there’s a fight ahead of you this afternoon. We both need to bathe and dress for the next trial.”
The image of slipping into a bath with Fieran, with the water lapping around his chest and his broad arms resting around the sides of the tub, rose to my mind a little too easily.
“Right.” I sat up, climbing over him to leave the bed. But when I straddled his waist so I could get up, his hands rose and caught my hips.
His eyes looked soft in the gentle morning light as they studied me.
“What will happen at the selection?” I asked to distract myself from the dangerous temptation to kiss him. “What about Kiegan?”
“Oh, worried for him, are you?” The shift in his tone was sudden, sharp. “You should be worried about yourself after your little performance. Curling up like a pill bug and napping through the fight.”
His jealousy was unexpectedly pleasing. I slid off his lap, padding across the room. His enormous windows were open, as usual, and the salt-tinged breeze rifled my hair. I didn’t dare go any closer to them, but from here I could watch the rolling waves.
“I thought you’d appreciate my scheming,” I teased.
“Scheming? You got yourself hurt.” He was out of bed himself, picking up a shirt to pull over his head. “You picked the single most dangerous recruit in the field and fought him. And here I thought your cleverness usually outweighed your recklessness.”
“If I were clever, I wouldn’t have fallen for your schemes.” I scowled at him, though I had meant to be charming. Belatedly, I smiled, trying to soften my words; his brows arched skeptically as if he didn’t trust that smile one bit. “Kiegan’s worried no clan will take him. Because of what he is.”
“No one trusts an orc.” He perched on the edge of the tub, turning on the tap.
“I do. You should.” And I should go, rather than lingering in his room, but I couldn’t leave until he promised to help Kiegan.
Shimmering heat rose from the surface of the rapidly filling water, and I shuddered, remembering how it had felt at the edge of burning. Should I tell Fieran what had happened? What Maura had done?
“This is the first year an orc and a mortal have made it to the Trials.” His expression shifted, turned thoughtful.
Even jealousy couldn’t distract his sharp mind from scheming for more than a few seconds.
“Perhaps it’s for the best that you fought him.
Onlookers will think there’s enmity between you. ”
The thought grated at me when Kiegan was my best friend here. “How does that serve either of us?”
“Nothing frightens the Fae more than unification among those who are not Fae.”
“That knowledge makes me feel positively affectionate toward my fellow man,” I said.
His lips softened. It wasn’t a smile so much as an unguarded thought. “Toward me?”
“Let’s not go that far.” Though, even as I said it, I knew he wasn’t quite my enemy.
Still, Lidi’s magic had been torn loose. At home, she must be watching her beloved flowers wither, touching brown leaves that crumpled to dust under her once-magic fingertips. There was plenty to hate him for.
I combed through my hair with my fingers, fixing it in the large mirror he probably took for granted. “Don’t despise Kiegan. I talked him into fighting me. It was my fault, not his. He only did what I asked.”
“Is that so?” His eyes were sharp. “Plotting together, then? Do you think it’s better to be beaten by someone you care for? Or do you have some dreadful kink I ought to know about?”
Heat flared in my cheeks, and his smile widened as if that were confirmation enough.
I didn’t want to ask Fieran for anything. I didn’t want to owe him any favors. But I owed Kiegan, and that meant I would owe Fieran.
“Kiegan helped me. He knew it might reflect badly on him. And since you need me for your plotting…” My voice faltered.
His brows arched, amused at the shift in tone. “Yes?”
“You know I need a favor.”
“You do?” His voice was a low purr, his smile sharp. Not a question, but a command. He wanted to hear me say it.
“Will you help Kiegan? Take him into your clan, so he’s not abandoned?” I gritted my teeth. “Please, Fieran?”
He looked so satisfied that I knew he would agree, even as he pretended. “That would look shameful. Not just the mortal, but the orc as well?”
“You don’t have to take me,” I snapped, irritated at his games. “I’m sure Ander would be willing.”
He gave me a disappointed look; I wasn’t trying hard enough to trick him. “Has he tried to draw you into Clan Amber?”
“More or less,” I lied, trying to sound convincing.
The way he scoffed told me I had failed.
“Please, Fieran.” I met his gaze evenly. “Help him.”
He cursed under his breath. That was answer enough before he growled, “Fine. And then we pray to the gods that the dragons feel like bonding with a mortal and an orc.”
“But first, you have to survive another trial,” he reminded me.
“Right. The same recruits who beat each other half to death yesterday are working together today. I cannot wait.”
His ring, the one that I needed but shouldn’t wear, dangled between my breasts with its promise.
I’d have a sliver of his protection even when I was on my own today.