* * *
When I stir again, there’s light piercing through my eyelids. I groan a little, roll over, and ever so slowly open my eyes to a way too bright morning.
Seth is directly in my line of view, again, but this time joined by Roarke. They’re wearing nothing but their braies. Just golden tans, made-for-battle muscles, smooth curves, solid definition, and a whole lot of messing with my insides.
Not lust, I tell myself. Just the after effects of too much wine.
Whatever the two of them are doing, it involves comparing arm muscles.
Seth realizes I’m awake and contracts his pectorals in an impressive muscle wink.
Roarke tucks his hair back, gives me a smile, then turns and walks off to where his clothes are hanging over his horse’s stall walls.
“Stop playing with the mortal,” Killian says.
I don’t look around or try to find out where he or Pax are in the room, focusing instead on getting myself out of bed, shoving some of the stray food in the room into my mouth, and after that, my only priority is the bathroom. I grab Seth by the hip of his braies and start pulling him along.
He humors me for all of ten steps, then plants his feet and doesn’t move.
“What?” he asks.
“I need the bathroom.”
“I’m not dressed.”
“And I don’t care. Do you want me to go right here?”
Crap, my mouth has woken up faster than my brain – again.
“Okay, okay, if you’re that desperate,” he says, arms out to signal surrender.
Then he opens the branch door and steps back to let me through first.
I march to the bathroom with one hand out in front of me just in case he decides to stop suddenly and let me walk into a wall – just for his own amusement – and running scenarios through my mind. Like what exactly I’m going to say once we get there.
I push the bathroom door open, and he begins to make himself comfortable by leaning back against the wall right outside. Which is good, boundaries are good. Boundaries are the whole point of my mood right now.
I leave him there, and I practically use the loo without paying any attention – I’m too bloody busy thinking about last night.
My feelings.
Kissing Seth.
Stepping back out of the bathroom, I level my gaze on him, fold my arms across my chest and stand firm. He’s still leaning up against the wall, leaving only the smallest gap for me.
And he’s only in his braies. Thin cotton undershorts. That’s all.
This was a bad idea.
“What’s on your mind –” he breaks off at the end.
“What? What were you about to call me?”
“Yoyo.”
“What on earth for?”
“Because it’s a toy.”
“I’m not your toy,” I grit my teeth so hard that the words can barely come out. “And I thought you had rules, and those rules included not touching me.”
“We did. We do. Pax was very clear that I had to use my manners.”
“Pax?”
“My instructions were to get your story, all of it, find out why...” he trails off, shooting glances up and down the stables and trying to emphasize those glances so I’ll get the hint. “It was a kiss, and I was hoping you didn’t mind it too much.”
“Of course I mind. I’m stuck with all of you.”
“So it’s not the fact that I kissed you that’s the problem. You’re worried one of them might get jealous?”
“No, maybe, I don’t know.”
Now I sound like I think way too much of myself. Why would one good-looking guy take any interest in me, let alone four of them? No, that isn’t my worry.
“Not jealous, awkward. I don’t like awkward.”
He runs the back of his fingers down my cheek, over my lips, down my neck, then traces them along my collarbone, before settling it on my shoulder.
“We wouldn’t do that to you,” he says softly. “We wouldn’t get jealous.”
“But you guys are really good at awkward.”
“Not us, Hoop-and-stick.”
“You can’t call me that.”
He ignores me. “We don’t do awkward.”
“Are you saying I’m the awkward one?”
He chuckles. “I’m really enjoying this more relaxed version of you,” he says, running his hand down my arm and picking up my hand.
He pushes my sleeve back and traces the point where the bandage ends and the soft flesh on the inside of my arm begins, which is also the beginning of goosebumps running all over my body.
“But I didn’t mind awkward you either, Bouncy-ball.”
“Will you stop calling me names?”
“I need to find one that fits. I was going to go with ‘Chew-toy’ but I think that’s reserved for Pax.”
“A what?”
“The things you throw at puppies to keep them amused, Chew-toy.”
Inside I tense, every part of me saying ‘kick him’ or ‘walk away’, but the more important part of this conversation isn’t over yet.
“Half the time, Killian literally sits as far away from me as possible. Pax is really good at pretending, but he’s definitely not impressed by my existence, Roarke acts like a dog on the end of his leash, and you treat me like –” I cut myself off for a beat, searching for a word that’s at least partly acceptable. “A puppet.”
“Puppet?” He chuckles. “Killian always likes his space. He can pretty much see and feel all of our emotions, and that’s not fun when it’s constant. Pax doesn’t know what to do with you, except that he has to keep you safe, and that’s not easy when you’re so –”
“Don’t say awkward,” I say, cutting in.
“Stubborn,” he corrects. “We wouldn’t get jealous. It’s not who we are. We’ve lived together for the better part of a few hundred years, and some of those years were really interesting times.”
“So what you did last night isn’t going to have any repercussions today?”
“What I did? You were there too.”
“I didn’t climb onto a bed with myself and start kissing me,” I declare.
“But you did kiss back.”
Fury flashes through me, heat rising from underneath my collar. I won’t admit that it’s because he might be right – just a little bit. Because admitting that kind of thing would destroy my ability to focus on this conversation.
“It won’t happen again,” I say.
He frowns a little then, which is not normal, and annoyingly I feel a pang of guilt at making him look that way. Which I shouldn’t, because Seth is a pain and deserves some moments in his life where everything isn’t a joke to him.
“Kissing?” he presses.
Like when Cook gave Jake and me the ‘sleep together and Lord Martin will kill you both’ lecture. She gave it to both of us, with graphic detailing on the use, look, feel, and smell of penises and vaginas, at the same time. It involved a rolling pin and big bowl of dough. Awkward.
So I keep my mouth shut and wait for him to say the next thing.
“Roarke had an issue with lust a few decades back, but he reined it in. We know we can’t share our beds with you –”
“Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say, that I don’t want to share my bed with all of you.”
Crap. That came out wrong.
He smiles, tilting his head a little to the side. “All of us?”
“All, any, what does it matter? It’s never happening.”
“But you want it to,” he says, Chaos-like amusement back in his tone. “Or the words wouldn’t have been on your tongue.”
I turn to storm off. My plan to be assertive, to try and fix last night, to try to understand what even happened last night, has gone out the window.
“Wait,” he says, firming his grip on my arm before I can get out of reach.
As soon as I’ve stopped, he relaxes his grip and rubs his thumb up and down along the soft skin.
“You would die,” he says, channelling full Pax – which means I full listen. “I don’t know a lot about mortals, but I do know that you break far too easily. The power in us would kill you. I’ve seen it happen with Roarke – again and again. Your kind can’t survive being with our kind.”
I discover I’m pretty good at shoveling as well as carrying water, polishing posts, hand scrubbing floors. Not as good as the guys – but then anyone who thinks they’re as good as these guys at anything is dreaming.
My ability not to peeve on the Elorsins though, that hasn’t improved.
Unfortunately, I believe Seth’s warning.
Now I tell myself to ‘get over it’ a lot. It’s not like I’ve got the guts to get close to them anyway.
Killian will still kill me.
Pax screams ‘back off’, and I have no idea what Roarke’s capable of.
Being a stable boy is painful, but peaceful, until the phase shifts and an almost full moon graces the night. Peaceful if you include no one letting me drink any more wine. After much argument, a decision was made so that I slept in each of their beds and under each of their cloaks at least once – they, however, sat up talking, or training, tending to their own horses with the kind of care I’ve never seen anyone give to an animal, or playing dice games.
The bed issue was weird. Maybe it’s a scent thing. Yeah, their scent is all over my clothes, but now my scent is all over their stuff too. Not sure. But most nights, by the time the work was done, I was exhausted, and once I knew I could trust them, sleeping wasn’t that hard.
That all changes tonight. Under the cover of darkness, and right over dinnertime – in the hope that most people are in the dining room, and we have a clean walk through the castle and up to the Elorsins’ suite, we move out of the stables.
I carry my small bundle of clothes, neatly folded, and trace their path down the halls, up the stairs, and right to their rooms. Killian checks that the hall is clear. The only doors down this end are theirs, the small supply closet, and a bathroom. Another suite is right on the corner, and there are more down the corridors T’ing off this one.
Each of the boys fish a small glass vial from their pockets, similar to the blue one Seth messed all our lives up with, except it’s green. They crowd around the door and simultaneously slam their palms into the wood, smashing the jars.
They keep their hands there, eyes closed in concentration, as small droplets of blood run from underneath their palms.
I wait until the moment is over before saying, “That was seriously weird.”
Which they mostly ignore. Killian draws a short blade from the inside of his belt and enters the room. Roarke picks a piece of glass from his hand before collecting both his bag and Killian’s and stepping inside.
“Ward Potion,” Seth says, like that’s enough explanation.
Pax waves me into the room and pulls the door shut behind us.
“Clear,” Killian hollers.
“What is that smell?” Roarke asks, but not me.
I’m being scrutinized by Pax, which makes me hesitate. Waiting to see what he’s going to say.
“You realize being near us could be the most dangerous decision of your life,” he says.
“Wasn’t my decision,” I drawl. “And yes, I’ve gathered that you bad-asses are on a lot of people’s revenge lists.” Including mine.
He nods, one sharp head movement, before continuing, “Do you have experience with potions in your realm?”
“I don’t know. I know mages use power, incantations, and things like crystals. I’ve heard those stories. I heard the new lady knight in Fairlarn has fire magic and can throw fireballs.”
“Potions Masters create a recipe, linking the magic from specific power springs into it. Once it’s created, any Saber can use the recipe, so long as they have the exact ingredients. The ingredients and the words will draw the power into the potion because the craftsman has left links between the recipe and the power springs. The older the potion, the easier it is to follow that link. The Ward Potion creates a protective barrier around our rooms. It only lasts a few days at a time, so renewing it is necessary.”
“A barrier, like to lock us in?”
“No, to lock them out.”
I get the feeling that by them he means Logan and any number of supporters that he and the Crown has.
“So the Potions Masters are the ones with control over what the potions do. That’s why Eydis, the one who made Seth’s Rearrange Potion recipe, is on our must-visit list, as soon as you four get an assignment?” I ask.
“Seriously, what is that smell?!” Roarke shouts.
That smell is emanating from Roarke’s room, and it has a name, but I refuse to get involved. I cross into the lounge room, put my pile of clothes on the desk, then perch myself on the edge of the couch closest to the fireplace.
The fire inside is crackling softly, and the warmth washing out over my skin is a blessing compared to the temperature of the barn. Not that the barn was harsh or freezing – but it sure wasn’t fireplace warm.
“It’s in my room,” Roarke shouts.
Killian comes out of his room, shaking his foot like something small just scooted up his pants leg. He slaps his pocket hard – which seems to deal with the sensation – then joins Roarke, and Seth, on the hunt for the source of the smell.
Pax has gone into his own room, somewhere back behind me. A soft knocking echoes down the short hall. They’re all busy so I move to answer it. The suite is pretty simply designed, a large lounge room with four doors off it. Two on the left, Pax and Seth. And two on the right, Roarke and Killian. All of which I ignore as I walk past them and answer the door.
Two palace Silvari servants dressed in simple white look back at me. One is a girl with thick curls of dark auburn hair and the most lush, red lips I’ve ever seen. I don’t usually go around checking out other girl’s lip colors, but hers really stand out. The other has dark skin, the kind of dark that turns to pink around the nails and makes a person’s teeth shine white.
Dark like Jake, which makes her instantly mesmerizing. Other than Jake and his mother, when she was alive, skin colors in my life have varied from seen-a-lot-of-sun to seen-none. To me, Jake always looked like his mother had been born from the moon, or some other creature who has no use for gentling their appearance to keep inhabitants of the daytime happy. Dark and bold and beautiful.
And standing at the door to Pax’s suite.
“It’s true, then,” she mutters to her friend, her lips going all tense like they’re holding back some serious aggression.
Beautiful skin or not, this woman is toward the bottom of my favorite servants list. Way down under whoever had me dragged to the stocks, and the guy I hit over the head with a tray after meeting the Crown.
Low. She’s very low.
“I bet she can’t even clean,” the other one says.
“Why are you betting on my cleaning ability? What do you want?”
“We’re Dyeeka and Ailsyn, and we’re the Elorsin tetrad’s servants,” the redhead says.
I’m going to hazard that she’s Dyeeka and I’m going to remember her name by calling her Dick, and her friend definitely looks like an Ass. On the inside, I mean. On the outside, she looks beautiful, not a mark from bad acne or even a single stray hair.
“She can’t even brush her hair,” Ass says, miming lifting strands, then dropping them with disgust.
I resist the urge to run my hand over my hair – because I’m pretty sure it does look like shit. I’m great with finger brushing, and my hair generally behaves when I pull it into a tight band, but that’s nothing compared to the way her manicured locks shine. These Silvari girls are all petite, they’ve got nothing on someone who’s actually had to work hard and eat every scrap they can get.
“Can’t even keep herself clean,” Dick says.
I grind my teeth, resisting the urge to look at the been-cleaning-mud-out-of-horse-troughs-all-day clothes I’m wearing, but decide I’ve
had enough of this game. I launch myself at her, tackling her to the ground and pinning her under my weight. She lets out a squeak. Her eyes going wide as I grab a chunk of her hair.
“Easy there, Puppet,” Seth says, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me off the girl.
Pax is also in the corridor. He folds his arms and glares down at the two servants as Seth carries me back into the lounge room. Both girls rush to look like a picture of servant perfection, though Dick is still rubbing her head.
“We’ll have our meal in our rooms, plus an extra serving,” Pax orders.
Both of them bow low and almost scamper down the hall, not even looking in my direction.
Seth drags me back inside and drops me unceremoniously onto the couch.
“What happened there?” Pax asks, pulling the door shut.
“She’s jealous,” Seth says.
“What?” I demand.
“I know jealousy, and you are wearing it like a second skin,” Seth says. The guy’s smirking so hard his cheeks have got to be hurting. He adds, “I’m going for a shower,” before he leaves the room.
Killian abandons searching for the source of the odd smell in his room. “I don’t like it.”
He doesn’t look at me or anything, just leaves the suite too.
“You can’t go beating up servants,” Pax says. “And you damn sure can’t go opening doors.”
“I’m not jealous,” I say, but I probably should have argued about the opening doors part first.
Pax does not get to rule that I can’t open doors. That’s not just mean or rude. It’s weird.
He nods, but not in a way that makes me think he agrees. His sharp little movement is much more reminiscent of an I-don’t-even-care type gesture.
“Don’t open the door. Don’t try to rip people’s hair out. Don’t draw any more attention to yourself,” he says, then he retreats into his room.
“I found it!” Roarke shouts.
He chooses this moment to emerge with a little white cake box that used to be filled with meat sauce and various other ingredients for tacos. Not that I’ve ever eaten them myself. After a week in his room, the box is now covered in a layer of fluffy white mold.
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 22