38. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
“ Y ou don’t have much fight in you today. I thought you would be eager to get back to it after so many days of rest.” Razenna swaps out our blunt training swords for wooden ones, and I heal the nick in my arm. . . again.
“I’m just confused and sad.”
“About how to swing your sword? Because it does look pretty sad right now.” She comes at me again, and my sword cracks against hers in an evasive maneuver.
“I miss Eoin already, and I’m confused about August. And then I feel guilty about being confused about August because I may, perhaps, have some feelings for Eoin. I feel messy and distracted.”
Razenna drops her sword, taking a relaxed stance. “Life is messy. You need a different sort of distraction.” She purses her lips and scans the dusty, sweaty males training around us. “Let’s get out of here and do something fun.”
***
I wash up and find a coordinating dress and corset. It feels nice leaving pants behind. The hem of the dress expands as I twirl in my mirror and check the new hairstyle Razenna gave me. We only have one more, and I will have tried out each of the meaningful styles.
We take a carriage into a nearby city, and the tell-tale signs of a traveling troupe come into view. A man on stilts walks through the crowd, juggling, and a woman on a temporary stage contorts herself into a small box.
Fae scatter as we exit the carriage, giving Razenna a wide berth. I hate that they recoil from her like this. If they only knew how great she is.
“Snacks first or games?” She asks, seemingly unbothered by the skittish crowd.
We toss balls and darts and watch the fortune teller for a while. He asks us to leave, presumably because Razenna scoffed and rolled her eyes on more than one occasion. Midway through the puppet show, the rumbling in my stomach reaches an intensity I can no longer ignore.
“Time for snacks?” Razenna asks.
“I’m famished. Is there anywhere to eat a meal nearby?”
“My favorite restaurant is three blocks away. They serve the best swordfish around.”
We walk down main street and pass a bakery, two inns, and an aviary before turning at Adam’s Apothecary.
“Astral’s Promise,” Razenna says, gesturing to the colossal venue ahead. “Selene’s largest and most popular music venue. It takes up an entire city block.”
A large black brick building with cathedrialesque windows stands a stark contrast to the lush, expertly manicured gardens around it. Cobbled paths wind through the garden, some leading to marble stages and seating. The property is lined with three- meter-high hedges and a wrought iron gate flanked by two larger-than-life gargoyles.
“The building here is the music hall, which opens during the day to serve lunch while artists warm up and practice on the stage,” Razenna remarks as we pass between the gargoyles at the entrance gate. Warm light radiates from the windows, illuminating and reflecting light in the puddles on the cobblestone paths.
The waiter at the door leads us to a private, secluded section on an upper floor. We have a clear, unobstructed view of the stage below, as well as the large ornate bar and the dozens of polished mahogany tables and chairs for patrons. The chairs and stage curtains coordinate with lush black velvet fabric and golden tassels. The curtain-less stained-glass windows cast multicolored streaks of light across the granite countertop at the bar.
“Rarely do I visit during the day,” Razenna says. “It loses some of its charm.” Bright light from the windows above illuminates scuffs and scrapes, and the band warms up on stage as if no one is there. “But the food is unmatched. How are you feeling, by the way? You were out for a while.”
“I’m fine.” I smile at the waiter who approaches, but he ignores me.
“Right this way.” He gestures, leading August, Ciaran, and Raynor to a nearby table with a better view of the stage. August watches me as the waiter fills his glass, and I can’t help but replay images of him peering up at me from between my legs.
The waiter takes our order, and Razenna leans in after he leaves. “You heard we got the sword, right?”
“I did.” My eyes follow the waiter, hoping he brings my seafood platter back soon.
“Did August tell you we also got the tome?” She slides her chair closer and lowers her voice. “The Tome of Thisby. The scribes are already making a copy.”
“I’ve heard of it. Did you read it?”
“It’s massive. It will take time. Also it’s very old, from the 1300’s, so some of the text has worn and faded. You’ll have to take a look when we return. We did learn something already, though. We already knew there were four relics, but apparently, they were separated between the Fjende, Dagr, Prophet, and humans after they used them to capture Maris.”
“And you now have the Prophet and the Fjende ones.” My mouth waters as our waiter returns, laying a steaming plate of seafood and vegetables before me. “Does that mean there is one in the human realm? That’s going to be hard to find.”
Razenna jumps as if struck by lightning. “I have to go. I think you’re onto something.” She steps over to August’s table and mumbles something to him. He nods.
I’m alone, truly. I wonder if Eoin has made it back to Ravton yet. I sigh and take a bite of crab leg. Butter drips from my chin as a finger lightly taps my shoulder.
“Miss?” The waiter gestures to August’s table. “The High Lord said you may join them if you wish.”
August’s eyes dip to my mouth and hides a smirk with his fist.
“Uh, miss?” The waiter gestures to his chin, smiling awkwardly.
“Oh!” I wipe the butter from my face and stand. “Sure, I’ll join.” Anything is better than being alone right now. He picks up my plate and glass and follows me to their table.
I sit across from August, wishing I hadn’t ordered such messy food.
“I hope Razenna didn’t put you out, requesting I join you.”
“She only asked we give you a ride back to the castle,” August answers dryly and continues a previous conversation with the other two males.
I stay mostly silent as we finish lunch. August, Ciaran, and Mads share laughs about stories from long ago, and Ciaran periodically glances between August and me.
Raynor raves about his annual Yule party on the way home in the carriage and insists that I attend this year. “No one puts on a more memorable event than I do. This year’s party is going to be something of the ages. Fae will talk about it for generations.”
The carriage rolls up to a stable, and the coachman lets us out.
The atmosphere and brightly colored foliage feel the same, but I glance around and realize we are on the North side of the mountain. My first real glance at Castle North takes my breath away. It is even larger than Castle South, and this side has a much larger balcony, which is the size of the entire third floor. I close my mouth, realizing I was gaping. The vast stretch of open land that travels through nearby orchards gives me an idea of something I know will lift my spirits.
“Do you think I could take Penny for a ride while we are here?” A breeze blows between us, and goosebumps cover my arms.
“In a dress?” August asks, removing his jacket.
“I’ll make it work.”
“I’ll take you to her.” He slides his jacket on me and holds out his arm for me to take.
Suddenly, and for the first time, I’m aware that I have the attention of a man who commands an entire court, and not just any court—an old, powerful, and feared court. Old fables of a menacing, merciless vampire lord flash through my mind as I take in his profile. This powerful, merciless lord was pressing kisses between my legs just days ago. I glance over my shoulder before entering the stable and take in the picturesque valley and the fringe of the city within it.
“I’m sorry I was short with you this morning.” His low voice brings me out of my reverie. “There’s a lot that I’m dealing with currently.”
I squeeze his arm. “It’s forgiven.” After what I overheard in the mountain, I’m certain he was just trying to put distance between us. But according to Mads, it seems like it should pass soon. Especially since August isn’t human, if those theories are correct.
We reach the back of the stable, and instead of a stall, he takes me to a small trophy room with several paintings, ribbons, and trophies. I recognize a horse in the largest painting in the center of the room. I drop August’s arm and walk towards it. The large horse in the middle of the painting is grayish with black legs and a black muzzle and mane. My jaw drops. It’s Penny, and she has wings.
I scan the rest of the oil painting. An older man who looks like August and a young, expressionless, beautiful woman stand next to the horse. The man has his hand on the horse’s hindquarters, and the woman holds an infant. On top of the horse sits an elated child with pointy ears. The plaque at the bottom of the painting reads, “High Lord Conrad and family with Stormy.” I can’t help but smile at the ecstatic child on the back of the horse.
I turn to August, who patiently studies me. “It’s Penny,” I say. He doesn’t say anything but continues to study me. I return my attention to the painting, looking at it more closely, specifically the man who looks like August. “Conrad. . . Is that your father?” His jaw tightens, and he nods once, still taking me in.
He points to the horse. “Stormy. She was my father’s horse.”
“Sounds like a kid named her.”
“A kid did name her,” he says and points to the adorable fae child on her back. “Dad let me name her.” He smiles to himself. “Which was a much bigger deal than I realized at four years old. It was his favorite horse—and he let me name her. I think Penny suits her much better.”
He leads me to a stall, letting the gate swing shut behind us. Penny nuzzles him as we enter and nips at his pockets. “There’s one more thing I wanted to show you.” He takes my hand and places it on Penny’s belly. Fluttering tickles my hand, and then a bump. I yank my hand back.
“She’s not fat,” I say, and the corner of his mouth ticks up.
“She’s not fat. She’s pregnant.” He strokes her belly. “She’s far enough along I’m hoping you’ll be open to leaving her here to deliver. Our stablemen are equipped and knowledgeable in delivering winged foals. I would lend you the buckskin mare until you could return to retrieve her and her foal.”
I stroke her velvety soft nose. “I imagine taking her out on relic adventures would be hard on her at this point.”
“Mmm hmm.” He slides his hand up Penny’s neck, stepping closer to me. His fingers brush into mine, and he freezes, looking down at me. His nostrils flare, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
Still feeling bold from my near-death experience, I slide my hand into his, lightly grazing his fingers. He stiffens and looks down at me through thick, dark lashes.
His lips part, and one of his eyebrows ticks up slightly. Time seems to slow down. He raises his hand and traces my bottom lip with his thumb.
“You’re a really good kisser,” I say, and I bite my lower lip seductively.
“Where?” he asks with a smirk. The butterflies in my belly swarm. Every pleasant and graphic detail of our encounter races through my mind.
The sound of metal clanging against cobblestone startles us both. August releases my hand, and we both step out of the stall. Ciaran stands not ten feet from us with the bridle of a brown horse in one hand as he retrieves a dropped canteen with the other. He looks particularly cheerful like he’s struggling not to laugh.
“Ciaran,” August says flatly, closing the stall gate behind us. “What are you still doing here?”
“Oh, you know—just thinking about going for a ride .” His eyes slide up and down my body with unabashed wanting. It strikes me a bit odd; all the times we were working through my midnight training sessions with August, he never looked at me like this. To my right, August’s posture changes, becoming more rigid, and he grips the top of the stable door with intensity.
“Mmmm. . . " Ciaran makes a sound like he’s taken a bite of something delicious, and a loud crack startles me. August’s grip split the wood on the stable door.
My hand covers my mouth, hiding my snicker as I realize what is going on between them. For some reason, Ciaran finds it funny that August may be momentarily cursed.