Chapter 9 Cyrene #2
His lips thinned. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”
I thought about it for a moment. The Kieran I’d known six years ago wouldn’t lie. Or I didn’t think he would. But I didn’t know this Kieran well. He was much sterner, somber even. And he could be holding things back.
He brushed hair off my face, securing it behind my ear. “You haven’t changed.”
“I have.” My voice came out barely above a whisper. Pretty much a croak.
“Maybe a little.”
Quandary yowled, and we both turned.
The little menace had dived headfirst into a dense cluster of pillarbushes, all glossy leaves and thin, stubborn thorns. Only his hindquarters were visible, his tiny haunches and feathered tail twitching mid-air.
“Oh, for the love of magic,” I groaned, rising and marching toward him. “You have wings. Why not use them?”
He chirped a pitiful response, wriggling further in.
Kieran made a sound dangerously close to a laugh. “Is he stuck?”
“He’s trapped in a bush.” I tried not to laugh because my companion would be horribly offended if he thought I was doing something like that. “Apparently, glowing insects are irresistible.”
Kieran came over and crouched beside me. “Such a brave hunter.”
“The bravest,” I said solemnly, tugging at the branches to free my friend. “Defender of honor, conqueror of…shrubbery. If bravery means poor life choices, he’s a champion.”
“Careful.” Laughter hid in his tone. “He might challenge me for your affection.”
“He’d win. He bites less.”
“Touche.”
Quandary squeaked, his wings fluttering, but he made no headway in freeing himself from the trap he’d placed himself in.
Kieran chuckled. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m enduring this.”
He helped, his fingers gliding over mine as we freed the creature, the contact brief but electric. Quandary popped out in a flurry of leaves, indignant and puffed up like he was preparing for a duel. He strutted around, his wings flared, challenging every insect in the vicinity.
I couldn’t stop laughing. I laughed until I had to clutch my stomach. Until I toppled back onto the ground.
Kieran joined in, falling back with me. His canines glinted when the muted sunlight caught them, reminding me I lay beside a predator.
We remained on the grass, staring up at the vine mesh overhead.
“You’re going to scorch your face,” I said, waving to the bit of sunlight coasting across him.
“It’ll be worth it.”
Such simple words. They made my heart sing.
“You should do that more often,” I said, breathless for no reason.
“Get assaulted by sunlight?”
“Laugh.”
Rising onto his elbow, he looked down at me, quiet for a long moment. “You make it easy.” Taking my hand, he placed it against his chest.
My smile faltered. “Your body feels cold.”
“It’s warmer when I’m near you.”
I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat refused to go down. “You almost sound like a man falling.”
His gaze met mine. I could get lost forever in his pretty eyes, and I suspected he knew it.
“Maybe I am,” he said softly.
Magic prickled under my skin. Soft light spilled from my fingertips, threading through the hedges like a living thing.
“Oh no,” I hissed.
Frowning, he glanced around. “What’s happening?”
“My magic,” I said, watching the maze shimmer. “It reacts when I—uh—feel things.”
He arched a brow. “Feel things? You said it does this when you’re angry, but you’re not angry now. You’re…feeling things.”
“Don’t start.”
The light thickened, weaving itself into the vines, the roses, and even the stubby trees trying to take over the open area.
“Well,” Kieran said, his eyes widening. “At least it has a practical side effect.”
“I’m a walking lantern,” I said. “Thrilling.”
That teasing warmth eased back into his voice. “A beautiful one.”
I caught a flicker of hunger in his eyes. Not for blood, but for something far rarer. Warmth. Life. Me.
“Flattery noted.” My voice came out croaky, but I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t control anything about this interaction.
After getting to his feet, he leaned down, offering me a hand to rise, and I took it, letting him tug me up to stand with him.
The garden had softened even more, the rough parts smoothing out from my joy magic. Plants sprouted. Bloomed. And the entire area glowed.
The maze might be responding to my magic, but Kieran was looking at me like I was the miracle.
“Amazing,” he breathed. “Can you do this whenever you please?”
“Sometimes.”
“I was going to make time to come work on this garden, and I still will.” He looked down at me. “Will you come with me and help? We can finish bringing it back to life.”
“You’re not upset that I’m interfering with a task you enjoy?”
“Not one bit, because we’d be doing it together.”
My heart got caught between my ribs, and it pinched. “I’d be glad to help.”
“It’s a deal then.”
More magic spilled from my fingers, gliding across the grass that sprouted behind it.
When it reached the hedge, it spiraled upward, and an arched opening appeared.
“I believe your magic has found us a way out,” he said, sounding a touch sad. Did he wish we could remain here, trapped for a bit longer?
I did, and I wasn’t sure what I thought about that.
“After you.” He gestured to the archway.
I scooped up Quandary.
I’m still eating bugs, he said in my mind.
There are more back at the castle. Bigger ones. Plump and…juicy. I tried not to cringe.
Quandary frowned around the area. These are quite tasty.
I’m sure they are back at the castle too.
Then I’ll ride. He flew up to land on my shoulder, his tiny claws latching onto my gown.
Kieran fell into step beside me as we strode down one path after another, slowly making our way out of the maze. The air buzzed with energy, the scent of lush vegetation growing stronger the farther we walked.
“Tell me about your people,” I said. “Something true. Not the legends.”
“We’re a people of ritual. We light candles on the longest night. Not to mourn, but to remember. We drink moonwater for strength, share blood not only for hunger but for unity. We bury our dead beneath gardens, not stone. We believe what’s beautiful endures.”
His tone softened when he spoke of it, and I could almost see the candlelight flickering over dark stone, his people gathering together. It made him seem less like a king and more like a man I could fall for.
“That’s…” My throat tightened. “That’s not what most people think of when they hear the word vampire.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
“Maybe you should let the world see this side of you.”
“Maybe we should.”
We walked in silence, the maze parting ahead of us, guiding us toward the exit.
“You said your advisors want proof our marriage is real. Do you have any suggestions?”
He glanced sidelong at me. “Public displays of affection. Touches. Kisses.”
I blinked up at him.
“I’d never ask you to do anything you didn’t want to do,” he said quickly, his hands raised between us. “But that might help.”
The problem wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss him. The problem was that I did.
This Kieran, the one who teased and laughed and spoke of working in gardens, was too close to the man I’d loved six years ago. And the way he looked at me now, like he was remembering too, made my pulse stumble.
The maze’s exit appeared ahead, a stone arch framed by ivy. The glow from my magic softened to a faint, silvery hum.
Kieran’s advisors and his aunt and uncle stood waiting outside, grim as gargoyles in their dark clothing, their equally dark hair secured at their napes with ornate bindings.
“Your Majesty,” Rathley said, bowing. “When you didn’t arrive for our meeting, we began to worry.”
Kieran’s voice cooled, coming out as smooth as marble. “There was no need.”
The air between us grew formal again, crisp and distant.
Maybe that’s why I did it.
I’d spent six years pretending I was over him, and in one day, he’d undone me with laughter and sunlight.
Before common sense could stop me, I rose on my toes, caught a fistful of his shirt, and tugged him near.
His pulse didn’t beat like mine. It hummed low and steady. But when he looked down at me, it tripped. Just once. For me.
Rising further on my toes, I kissed the vampire king like he was still mine.