I hold my hand up, getting both Pax and Roarke’s attention. “You need to hear this. Pretend it’s some mortal named Ellerian.”
“Ellerian isn’t a mortal’s name,” Seth says. “Try Anna.”
“How would you know?” I ask.
“He brought back an Anna once.” Seth waves a hand at Roarke.
“I did?”
Seth just nods.
“Okay, Anna,” Roarke begins slowly, getting a nod of approval from Seth and no growl from Pax. “Sabers absorb each other’s powers in equal share, which is much more satisfying. Anna’s heart would probably have kept beating until the morning, but most of her soul would be gone. I would absorb it all – and even though my power would be trying to give back, she would be unable to absorb any of it. Not properly. It would just burn through her body. I mean, if she died, she’d die happy.”
Seth nods. “She died. They all died.”
“Remind me why we let you do this again?” Pax asks.
Roarke shrugs, his attention turning toward the bar and trying to summon a server.
“We were all grieving,” Seth says.
No one responds.
We know the theory. We’ve watched it happen. But Pax needs to hear the details, the things only Roarke can elaborate on. Pax needs it fresh in his mind – and so does Roarke.
Roarke waves his hand in the air and holds up five fingers. A few seconds later, two servants approach our table.
We need to talk about the lizards in the forest, and the BeastSeed, but not here. Not when our combined knowledge is made up mostly of speculation and shards of memories. We need answers, but they’re not going to come from any of us. Not unless one of us is keeping something secret.
37 miles to Potion Master Eydis
My wall ceases to push me about halfway down the stairs. Which is exactly where I stop, lean back against the invisible force, and take a few deep breaths. The boys must have stopped somewhere down in the dining room – out of sight.
It’s not that I’m not starving. The sweet smells of pumpkin soup, roast meats, and spiced bread that fill every inch of this place are more than a little appealing. But I can hardly walk down there and take a seat at my own table – away from the guys – and eat in peace.
Can I?
A pang of something sharp, something annoyingly painful, vibrates through my chest. Like my soul is warning me not to entertain the idea.
But my soul is only a small part of the equation, my head gets a say too. And so does my heart and my body – though both of those are going to agree with my soul right now.
Walking out into the dining room, I search table after table of Silvari, all dressed in fine cotton, linen, and silk. Some of the ladies are in beautiful dresses that flow over their unnaturally tall and slim figures, highlighting every perfect curve. The men are all similar, tall and lean, so my four guys stand out. Although Roarke is the leanest of the group, he still has more muscle than the average Silvari.
The walls of this place are oddly lined with stained glass windows. Not actual windows, but rather the panes of glass are being used like pictures against the timber paneling. I have no idea why they wouldn’t just have regular windows that people can see out of – but there are none in here. The images in the stained glass are of trees – no surprise there – but each one features a different kind of tree. Different colors and different types of leaves.
To the left is a bar, several patrons sitting along its length with drinks in their hands. Next to that is a serving window with chefs working away in the kitchen beyond and four pretty women delivering the plates around the room. To the right is a double set of doors propped open to let the cool night air in.
Would it be rude if I walked over there and shut them?
It’s too cold for cool night air, I think, my skull humming like I just stood up too quickly or something.
The guy closest to the doors gets up, kicks the small stops out of the way, and pulls the doors closed. I almost say ‘thank you’ out loud – but this dull ache in my temples makes me squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath.
When I open my eyes again, I’m back to my original train of thought. Where to sit?
Sighing heavily, I realize that there are no empty tables. Not even an empty seat with the guys. The four of them are taking up all the room on the two benches.
I’m no stranger to stealing food from a kitchen after they’ve closed, and I’m pretty sure Seth will find it fun and join me later – so I turn to leave. Waiting quietly on the steps, just out of sight, feels very appealing right now.
“Sit,” Pax says, part order. There’s definitely some Alpha in that tone. Or maybe it just sounds that way because he’s being demanding.
All of the nearby tables go quiet.
“Please,” Roarke adds.
Seth stands, and before I have a chance to decide exactly how I’m going to respond, he grips my shoulders from behind and begins to steer me toward the table. It’s only Seth, and I relax in his grip – letting him slide me onto the bench seat between him and Roarke.
The seat’s not very long, and I’m shoulder to shoulder with both of them. I’ve been squished between two of my guys before, Seth and Killian actually. They pinned me into place with an arm over my lap and one behind my back during Sigil class. But these two, now, are almost wary. Like they’re trying to negotiate a line that none of us can see.
Two servants cross the room, a plate in each hand. The shorter girl giggles, setting her first plate in front of Roarke and the second in front of Killian. Killian, she completely ignores, but she can’t take her hazel eyes off of Roarke. The guy smiles back up at her, and just when I begin to think I might slap him, he flutters his eyelashes.
What the chuck?
So I do slap him, hard and right on the thigh.
He jumps in his seat, turning his dark gaze to meet mine. His hair’s tied back, with just one lock hanging free in front of his face.
“Careful,” he says to me, but his gaze darts momentarily to Pax – who’s ignoring us and taking a plate from the other young woman.
“Leave the poor defenseless girl alone,” I order.
He curls his fingers around my knee then very deliberately shoves me closer to Seth. But his hand stays there, on my knee, holding me tight, and I wonder for a split second if he might change his mind and pull me back closer to him.
The girl lowering a plate in front of Pax is lingering, her hand gently on his arm. Her gaze is still on the bowl of pumpkin soup, fear in her fake smile, but her intention is clear. She’s trying to flirt with him.
My blood boils.
I stretch my leg underneath the table and kick the guy.
His golden eyes meet mine, a smile dimpling one cheek. But he doesn’t take the pretty blonde’s hand off his arm.
He looks up at her. “Thank you. There was one more,” he says.
I hadn’t even realized they didn’t bring food for me.
Minor detail. I don’t even care.
What I do care about is getting this girl to move her ass on. There’s plenty of other Silvari to serve in this place.
She turns her gaze in my direction, but very deliberately looks over my head, then turns back toward the bar.
“Oh, your servant wants to eat too?” she says, her voice fluttering as much as her eyes. She tilts her head a little, acting coy, then walks off. “I’ll be right back.”
The servant on the other side of the table does the same. Roarke’s hand leaves my knee, so he can eat. My jaw aches, and I realize I’m grinding my teeth.
“You’re not entertaining that, are you?” I say, my jaw barely relaxing enough for the words to get out.
“Why not?” Pax says, watching her walk away for a moment. “It’s amusing.” He pulls his gaze back to me.
Which makes my insides absolutely melt.
And that infuriates me more. Is that what she’s feeling right now? After Pax held her gaze and fed her lust? And I don’t eve
n care if that’s not his power – he’s male and hot-as-melted-chocolate and giving her all the wrong signals.
I’m going to rip her hair out.
Killian grunt-chuckles, then clears his throat and offers up a real chuckle.
The amusing part in all of this is going straight over my head – just like her gaze. She reaches the serving counter, collects three plates, and crosses to the other side of the room.
“The risks Silvari will take to try and marry someone in power,” Seth mutters.
“Silvari crave power,” Killian adds.
“I thought you said the Elite Saber and Silvari relationship dynamic was impossible,” I say, still watching her.
“Some Silvari think the issue lies in winning us over, and not a matter of magic. The younger Sabers, those that haven’t been called to the castle yet, their power is timid enough that there are no problems. And the Sabers called to the castle hardly stay in the villages long enough to inform the locals of the risks. Enforcement are all in steady relationships before being released from duties at the castles. Silvari deaths are definitely illegal, and –” Roarke shoves his spoon in his mouth like the next words he was going to say needed to be physically stopped from coming out.
Seth tilts his head to the side, catching my attention. Like me, he’s watching the servers and probably noticing that none of the girls have any desire to deliver me a bowl of food.
“I’ll take care of this,” the guy says, sliding his bowl in front of me. “You eat.”
He leans in, kissing my temple. The spoon’s in my mouth before he’s pulled away, and it takes me a second to register that he kissed me at all. Servants don’t turn down food, and after eighteen years as a servant, that lesson is ingrained in my muscles. No thought required.
Which is good, because every fiber of awareness in me has zeroed in on the tingling sensation left by his lips. I hope I’m not grinning like a stupid love-struck Silvari – because then I’d really be pissed at myself.
Seth gets up and ambles through the room. No one notices, no one turns to look at him or even pauses in their conversation. It’s like the guy has all but vanished. He approaches the pretty blonde at the serving window, but before he can get to her, she turns and walks purposefully toward a far table with three plates in her hands. Three plates, but the table only has two people at it.
Two men, both with brown hair and plain faces. One’s got a few freckles across his nose, the other a short beard. They’re both smiling, talking animatedly, as the bowls are placed before them and the girl walks off. Seth slides into the currently empty third seat, picking up the spoon and taking a mouthful. He’s nodding and smiling excitedly, jumping right in on their conversation as if he belongs there.
The two guys’ eyes go wide and their gazes dart around the room, trying to decide where Seth belongs. Seth keeps talking, laughs like he’s said something funny, then takes another mouthful.
My eyes bulge.
“What is he doing?” I whisper.
“Being Seth,” Roarke says, still eating, not even looking.
“Does he know those people?”
“Nope,” Pax says, and I realize that he’s not looking at Seth either, he’s looking at me.
I turn to face him. “Should I go sit over there too?”
He frowns a little.
“I mean, if you all are going to go flirting with every Silvari that approaches you, I feel like I’d be better off over there.” I point my thumb toward where Seth is still eating and still telling jokes – not that I can actually hear what he’s saying.
The room fills with his laughter, and I take that opportunity to pull my gaze from Pax’s.
“New rule. No flirting,” I say.
“I thought the rule was ‘no touching anyone unless we plan on killing them?’” Killian says.
“That was the rule,” I agree. And that rule worked fine when we were trapped in the White Castle. “This rule is on top of that rule. Rule number one – no flirting. Rule number two – no touching. Got it?”
There’s also rule number three, no sex. But now’s not the time for bringing that one up.
Killian straightens, putting his spoon down. Across the room Seth takes notice, standing.
I keep eating. I’m not as fast as they are, but I’m pretty sure I’m just as hungry.
“Great talking to you,” Seth says loudly. “We should do this more often.”
A guy approaches the table as Seth walks away – their third dinner companion. All three of them watch Seth’s back as he crosses the room, brows creased in confusion. Just blank confusion, not frustration or anger or even spite.
“What is it?” Pax asks, his voice angled toward Killian.
The servants approach, placing plates of roast meat, potatoes, and green vegetables on the table. The pretty blonde steps close to Roarke, leaning in as if to whisper something into his ear. Killian grabs her by the arm, and she freezes, blanching.
Has she stopped breathing?
“Back to work,” Killian growls.
She runs off into the kitchen, shaking and sobbing. Killian’s looking deadly, and I almost feel like a horrible person. But I’m pretty sure that had nothing to do with me. The other serving girl falters for a second but stays. Leaning over, she puts a plate in front of Pax in a way that angles a peek down her low-cut top.
Pax locks his gaze on mine, not taking notice of what she’s offering. He smiles like whatever he’s seeing in my expression pleases him. The air bristles. It takes me a second to realize that there is something physical going on, and it’s not just my own personal reaction to his gaze. Power spikes over me, and my body grabs at it – like warm skin relishes in a cold breeze.
The servant, however, squeaks and runs.
With her out of the way I should relax, should be able to pull my gaze away, but I can’t.
“What is it?” Pax asks.
I struggle with an answer, then Killian begins to speak, and I realize the question wasn’t even for me.
“Tonight,” he says, standing, that glazed black look still in his eyes.
Roarke stands too, and without any further explanation, the two of them head for the stairs with Seth close behind.
I reach across the table and snatch Pax’s plate from him, which finally breaks the grip he has on my gaze. Forgetting about cutlery until a piece of meat is in my hand – and I figure it’s too late now – I start eating.
“What was that about?” I ask, pointing toward the stairs.
“Something dangerous is going to happen tonight. Killian usually senses these things. They’re going to saddle the horses.”
As he speaks, the guys reappear. Seth and Killian are carrying a saddle over each arm. Roarke’s in the lead with the last saddle, shoulder-barging the doors open. People turn to look, and a plate crashes to the floor, smashing. The serving girl who was flirting with Pax scurries to clean it and offers apologies to the nearest tables.
“And what did you do to her?”
“I can make people feel fear – it’s one way to ensure my authority isn’t questioned. Not something I do often.”
“That didn’t feel like fear to me,” I mutter around my mouthful.
He drags one of the plates across, picks up his knife and fork, and starts cutting his meat like a normal person.
“I noticed.”
The world is heavy with nightfall. Roarke is in the lead, already unlatching the gate for us, followed by Seth. Then me.
Three Silvari, armed with cut-and-thrust swords, are slowly walking a small dog back into town, and two other patrons saunter across from the wash-house into the back door of the inn.
People of no consequence.
Shade and Pax are inside the inn. They stayed there when the tang of Darkness swirled and licked across the floor. Seth and Roarke came with me to prepare the horses for a non-specific danger. A something that is coming.
I’m never wrong.
I sling my saddles over the rai
ling and turn to watch the point where the road out of town molds into the trees. Seth does the same, perching on the top railing, eyes intense, posture deceptively relaxed. Roarke leans against the fence from inside the yard, looking between me and the trees.
Whoever it is smells of death and Saber power – but not darkness.
I look at Roarke, then nod toward the trees. He can deal with it.
He lets himself through the gate, then leans back against the post and oozes calm, his stance and posture inviting. All that power he’s been locking down is let free to stretch its cramped limbs. I ignore him, and them, as best I can, moving to the far side of the yard and tossing Shade’s saddle onto the new gelding. Fixing everything in place before moving onto my own mount.
The Sabers spot us quickly. Three lithe females on black geldings. Their hair, the women’s and the horses, is braided tight, and there’s no blood in sight. They’re wearing chest guards made of black leather, a short sword at each of their sides, and all of them have a bow slung across their backs. No arrows are left in their quivers, though.
Roarke has drawn them over, probably without having to do anything. The two that dismount do so with a pompous huff. Their chins tilt up, their lips in thin lines.
Roarke gets them talking, but I’m too far away to hear the specifics. So I approach, which makes the women still and Roarke work harder.
“I told you – our orders are to report first and not share gossip on the way,” one of them repeats.
“I know,” Roarke says, the smell of jasmine painting the air. “I know. But what I say is far more important than any of Lithael’s rules.”
I scrunch my nose at the sweet scent of Allure – but the girls almost swoon when their lungs fill with it.
“And you desire to tell us what your assignment was.”
The woman on the left runs her hand down the length of her braid, pulling the tail of it around onto her shoulder. There are needle-pins in the weave – an effective weapon, if she had any control over her mind right now. I know she doesn’t because I can see the threads of lust reaching for her fingertips, begging to close the distance and press them against Roarke’s skin. Like an instant addiction. A need.
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 43