Chapter Ten
TEN
Already trying to escape?” growls a low, dangerously familiar voice.
The rough words jolt me up from my warm little cocoon beneath the heap of woolen blankets I pulled over myself last night—or was it early this morning?—each one of them luxuriously thick and woven in brilliant jewel-toned patterns.
The green eyes narrowing down at me from the foot of the bed are brighter than them all.
Wolf’s hair is a mess, and there are dark circles under his eyes that make the vivid green burn all the brighter. His black cloak lies carelessly at the foot of my bed—inches from where my feet dangle from the cover of the blankets.
I always sleep with them out so I don’t get hot.
Both are covered in dirt from running out into the rose garden, barefoot.
Shit.
The leather jacket strains against his shoulders as Wolf leans down, both hands on the edge of my bed, lethal cunning marking every inch of the tired lines across his face.
I keep the blankets held to my chest and glare up at him.
“How did you get in here? I locked the—”
“I don’t need a key to get in,” he scoffs.
My eyes drop to his large hands. I’m wary, watching for any magical tendril.
Can he use magic? I never thought to ask if he’s a mage like the other Whisperer or something else entirely.
But there’s nothing except the flex of tendons along the backs of his hands, his knuckles covered in brittle scrapes and calluses.
There are scars, too. Some from wounds that were once clearly deep, others I imagine must’ve been drawn like a taunt across his flesh to heal in such thin, clean lines.
Wolf draws back then, crossing his arms over his chest. He drags his gaze away from me just long enough for me to follow it to where a steaming pot of coffee waits on the table.
Did the servants let him in, or did he actually bring me coffee?
The thought is ridiculous. I shake my head, banishing it from my mind.
“Where’s Talon?” My voice is rough with exhaustion, but I don’t take my eyes off him even as I inch toward the side edge of the bed—still close enough to grab the blades on my nightstand if I need them.
Wolf’s eyes track the movement, his jaw tightening. “Occupied. The High King ordered another search through Quayside. Consider me your warning not to try anything… escape-related. It won’t work.”
A surge of panic twists my stomach. “Another search?”
Old Ones, I can still smell the blood from the last one. How many people will the gardai slaughter over an old man’s paranoia this time?
Wolf’s green eyes narrow on my face. “What were you doing outside last night?”
My fingers twist around the edges of the blanket.
Vulnerable is one thing I can’t afford to be with him, not after he’s already used my desperation to save Finn against me.
If I tell him the truth, admit the panic that catches up to me more often than I’d like, he’ll find a way to use that against me too.
“Like you said. Looking for a way out.” I scowl at him. “Trying to get away from you.”
Our gazes collide, and it’s like flint striking stone.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I shove the blankets off me and finally climb out of bed, my back to the windows. There’s no way I’m turning my back to him. “Are you here for a reason, or do you just enjoy being an ass?”
His hard mask wavers but holds. “Who says it can’t be both?”
The clouds shift outside the window, and golden light streams in.
Wolf’s breath catches.
I hear the sudden, rough sound in his throat, enough to send embers racing up my neck. My cheeks flood crimson in an instant.
In the darkness last night, there hadn’t been enough light to worry about whether my linen nightgown was anything close to sheer.
But in the hazy daylight from the window, I realize—it’s almost fucking transparent.
I grasp for the nearest blanket from the bed and hold it across my body. I’m not embarrassed by the soft curves of my hips or the nip of my waist. But Wolf is the last person I would ever want seeing me almost naked.
“Do me a favor,” I snap, “and look somewhere else.”
“Another favor?” The corner of his mouth turns up, but he does as I say.
I quickly pull the nightgown over my head and find the extra pair of leathers and clean tunic the servants had brought me before bed, along with the nightgown.
Enough for a week, and then I guess I’ll have to ask Talon about laundry.
The clothes are on the bedside table along with the blades I placed there last night.
I dress quickly, then slide them both into the sheaths at my sides.
“Not that you’d know the difference, but sometimes a favor is just basic human decency.
Not everything needs to come with a price.
” I run a hand over my mussed hair. The chestnut waves are tangled at the back of my neck, and I quickly plait the dark length. “Okay. You can turn around.”
He does—slowly. His expression is unreadable as he meets my eyes again. “Maybe. But most things do, in my experience.”
Wolf’s hands tighten on the bag in his grip; I hadn’t noticed it before. He offers the leather sack to me then, and when I take it from him, it’s surprisingly heavy. I peek inside. “A book?”
“And maps.” He shifts his weight, running his empty hands over the sheaths of the blades up and down his sides like the movement is as natural to him as breathing. “Talon said you asked for them, and I thought you might find the book… useful.”
I pull the book out of the bag and feel the soft, thick cover of worn leather and the raised gold lettering across the front.
Old Ones, we could never have afforded a book like this in Quayside.
The edges of the pages are stenciled, with outlines in swirling spirals of ink and fading pencil. I run a finger along the title.
Blood her rosy cheeks flush at my stare. The worn edges of her cloak are thick with rich purple wool, woven into elaborate spirals up the hem.
Ice races down the back of my neck. The tiny sea snails whose shells are crushed for that hue can only be found in the Málmar Islands, the magic-rich archipelago north of the frigid, wild Sea of Serpents.
It’s where the finest steel comes from too.
There’s only one way in or out of the sole cove that’s safe for a ship, and even the Cymreans aren’t war hungry enough to risk their precious navy on a single route through the treacherous northern sea passage.
My mother said mages relied on their caoranachs to get across the sea before the uprising.
Before magic was drained and the mages were banished.
No one noble enough to wear a cloak like this, even if it’s faded, can mean anything good by venturing this close to me.
The girl cocks her head, and there’s no fear in her eyes. “What are you waiting for?”
My grip tightens on the hilt of my blade. “Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll let you walk away.”
She lifts her chin. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this is a shared courtyard. That’s my door.” She gestures to the only other one opening into the garden. “And I have just as much right as you to enjoy the only peaceful part of the day here too.”
There’s a hard edge to her words, enough to pique my grim curiosity.