And found himself staring at a stripe of bare skin between a cascade of chestnut waves above her waist and honey-colored fabric covering everything downward from the curve of her hips.
“Find somewhere else to look,” she demanded with what sounded like mild amusement.
How she knew he’d been staring, he didn’t know.
Nehelon was sitting at the table when Gandrett emerged from the bathing chamber back in her acolyte uniform. After an hour-long bath the night before, soaking in the luxurious tub, breathing the fruity scent of the soaps and oils on the tray by the door, she had fallen into a comatose sleep.
And woke to a close-up of the Fae male who didn’t seem to be able to make his mind up whether he was there to help her or to torment her. She shuddered at the thought of his diamond-blue eyes… and the dark waves that had caught the morning light… were still shining in a rainbow of copper and onyx…
His eyes scanned her, mouth tight.
“Not up to your standards anymore?” Gandrett commented at his frown.
Now that she knew what her task was, however little she liked it, and she had negotiated her own condition—a year with her family, a whole year before she’d return to the Meister’s will—she found it easier to face the Fae male. Even forgot for a moment there what he was as his mouth twitched as if he was holding back a grin.
How she would like to know what it took to coax a real laugh from him.
“They haven’t delivered you new clothes?” he merely asked.
Gandrett picked up her sword and belt from the chair where she’d left them the night before and added them to her hips, aware of Nehelon’s eyes on her.
“What are you thinking?” She asked, unable to read him.
“You shouldn’t be wearing this.”
“Why?” Gandrett grabbed her mass of hair and twisted it until it was one long chord then bound it to her neck with a string of leather. “Thanks to your wonderful gift,” she gestured to the dirty brown dress on the chair, “I still had a spare set of these.” One hand pulled on the pale linen tunic on her chest. His eyes followed there, too. “What do you suggest, I go in my underthings?”
Her memory rewound to Brax’s melodious chuckle and the spark in his emerald eyes while Nehelon’s lips finally curled upward for a fraction of a second before he knitted his brows together again. “I’m certain Brax wouldn’t object.”
Gandrett said nothing.
“Even if you are to pass as a lady, we want to take slow steps, getting you to walk, talk, and act like one.”
There it was, a punch in the gut. A reminder of what she was about to do. The boundaries she might need to cross… even if she’d never share a bed with Denderlain. His trust. She needed to gain his trust so she could sneak around and find Joshua. Nothing more, nothing less. The young lord’s protection rather than his undivided attention.
Nahir had told her the first time she had bled, when her breasts had just started to form and her hips had widened enough to distinguish her from the boys her age, that she would grow into a beautiful woman. And Nahir had seen enough of the outside world—travelers and more—enough Children of Vala who had grown into adulthood under her care. She had warned Gandrett that, first, the older boys at the priory would fight for her attention, then when she went on missions, it would be the men out there… And she would one day need to learn to either wield that femininity like a secret weapon or find ways to conceal it. So far, she had chosen the latter. While Surel had chosen the other path. Surel…
Her heart sank at the thought of her friends who were probably worried about what had happened to her. Even if the Meister had informed them she’d been dispatched early on a mission, the note in the cookie box must have been found by now. With a glance at Nehelon, still frowning but otherwise tame enough, she was wondering if she had overreacted, if maybe he wasn’t as dangerous as she thought.
“So teach me, Lonnie,” she said in a whiff of boldness.
Not unsurprisingly, Nehelon didn’t as much as blink at her challenge. But something else became apparent. A silent defiance that was so uncommon for the otherwise calculated male.
Lonnie? Nehelon wanted to grab the inkpot before him and throw it out the window.
One breath, another one, and another one. He counted. When he reached ten, with a sideways glance into the garden, reassuring himself there was no one within sight, he got to his feet and crossed the room at Fae speed, and pinned her against the wall before she could even notice he had moved.
Lonnie. I will Lonnie you.
Gandrett looked up at him with the same calm face she had worn the night before when she had bargained with Lord Tyrem—a whole year. By the gods—if she was scared, her eyes didn’t tell. But her heart? It raced in her chest, galloping. He tightened his grip.
Her scent climbed back into his nose, filled his mouth as he leaned closer, baring his teeth, and debated unleashing his magic on her to give her a taste of what happened when people called him Lonnie.
Chapter Sixteen
The air swept from her lungs as Nehelon crushed into her, locking her against the wall with a firm grasp at her wrists, his chest flattening her into the stone behind her. His eyes—there was nothing left of the cold, calculating gaze she was used to.
“You might have gotten a good bargain with Lord Tyrem, but don’t get cocky.” He squeezed a little harder, as if to remind her she wouldn’t escape his grasp. Not if he didn’t allow it. His breath was hot on her face, and his scent—
She had never noticed, never even considered how different he would smell from anything she knew. Maybe that was part of the Fae allure—that, and the striking beauty that broke through the glamour as he growled, “Here are some ground rules: you meet me in the training pits at dawn. You don’t wander around the palace by yourself—a guard will escort you everywhere,” his eyes sparked with ferocity, “even when you take a break to piss.”
Gandrett didn’t feel the wall behind her or the hardness of his fingers as they encircled her arms.
“You will spend the mornings exercising and sparring and your afternoons learning how to charm Denderlain. Am I clear?”
Gandrett pondered while she marveled at the Fae face before her. “Are you going to teach me how to charm people?” she asked, unable to control the grin that flashed on her lips. “I’m sure you’d be a great teacher, considering how well you handled me.” She winked, something inside of her pushing her to keep going, to provoke him. Just to see that glorious wrath of the Fae male for a minute longer. Anything, she noticed, was better than the contained, cold travel companion she’d spent too many silent hours with.
It seemed to take Nehelon all the strength he had to not make it her throat as he bit the air between them, more predator than anything. And she shuddered against the stone behind her, suddenly very much aware of how dangerous a game she was playing.
“That pleasure—thank the gods—goes to someone else.” With those words, he let go and stalked to the doors where he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t come out until you are wearing either fighting leathers or one of those gowns that are equally dangerous as your blade.” With those words, he smoothed over his face, Fae features disappearing in the glamour that settled over him once more, and left.
It took Gandrett a minute or two to recover. What was she thinking to provoke a Fae male?
She rubbed her wrists, noticing the hurt his grasp had left behind. A reminder of what he was, how little she could do about it. And even now that she had gotten her assignment from Lord Tyrem directly, she was stuck with Nehelon even if it was only for training.
With a sigh, she grabbed a whetstone from her satchel, flung herself back onto the bed, and sharpened her sword.
Eugina came at noon with a tray of delicacies Gandrett had never seen in her life, announcing that it was an assortment of fish from the East Sea and that Nehelon wished her to become accustomed to the taste. The servant left her alone with the food, and by the time Eug
ina returned with heaps of frilly fabrics, Gandrett had tried almost every one of the slimy fish dishes and deemed none of them edible.
“You’ll get used to it over time,” Eugina commented as she dropped her carrion on the wide, burgundy sofa.
Gandrett set down her fork and picked up the glass of juice before her and drained it, just to get some sugar into her system, then nibbled at a piece of bread as she watched Eugina smoothen out the bundles of burgundy, purple, and midnight-blue.
“They don’t serve fish in the desert,” Gandrett explained and, at the knowing look on the servant’s face, wondered if she’d said too much.
“Don’t worry, Miss Brayton,” Eugina said. “I will keep your secret.” She gave a warm smile as she picked up the dirty, brown dress from the chair and placed it in a basket by the door.
Gandrett measured the woman for a while, wondering what secret she meant, that she was from the order or that she didn’t like fish. But Eugina returned to the table and offered, “I will have one of the girls bring you some stew from the servants’ kitchen. It’s hearty and warm and will give you the energy you need to deal with the lord’s chancellor.”
“Chancellor?” Gandrett prompted and shoved aside the tray at the prospect of something that would fill her stomach.
“Nehelon Sterngrove,” Eugina said and curtseyed. “I thought you knew…”
Gandrett endured the cold touch of disappointment. Disappointment about what? He had come to retrieve her from Everrun for Tyrem Brenheran, and even if it had felt at points like he wasn’t entirely happy with the task she’d been assigned, what had she expected he’d do about it? The lord’s chancellor.
As Gandrett didn’t respond, Eugina returned to the dresses, unnecessarily shaking them out. “The chancellor asked me to put proper clothes on you the second they were ready,” she continued, and Gandrett turned to watch her finally pick the burgundy one and hold it up for Gandrett to examine. “Is it to your liking, Miss?” she asked and moved a step closer, displaying the soft velvet that was cut high enough to show nothing more than the collarbones of its bearer.
Gandrett shrugged and stood. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” she murmured, “as long as the chancellor is happy.”
Chancellor. How had a Fae ended up being a human lord’s chancellor? She hadn’t given his position in the Brenherans’ court a real thought until now, too busy fearing what he would do to her if she exposed him or weighing her chances of running. She had been so absorbed in hating Lord Brenheran that it hadn’t occurred to her, Nehelon could be more than a mere mercenary. The thought of the contained fraud as the lord’s closest advisor was something she wasn’t sure she could stomach.
Mechanically, she got to her feet and took off her acolyte uniform to make way for the cascades of burgundy in Eugina’s waiting hands.
The bodice hugged her like a second skin, skirts falling to the floor in soft waves. Eugina adjusted the sleeves until she was satisfied, then wrapped a wide, golden belt, set with rubies and emeralds, around her waist. Gandrett flinched at the tightness of the garment but didn’t complain.
She let Eugina braid her hair and put on the burgundy silk slippers without comment. Everything was for the sole purpose of seeing her family again.
“Where can I find the chancellor at this hour of the day?” she asked when they were done, but Eugina didn’t need to point her anywhere, for the door opened, and Nehelon Sterngrove stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and eyes cautious.
Nehelon didn’t know why he had returned to Gandrett Brayton’s chambers, and now that he found her clothed in a garment that left that delicate neck exposed from shoulder to shoulder, something tugged on his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was in a good way.
Eugina noticed him as the girl froze where she stood. So she knew who he was in this court. One less thing for him to reveal to her. He could have told her from the start, could have played with open cards, but then—then he would have had to reveal that his intentions of choosing her had nothing to do with saving Joshua Brenheran. Even if Joshua Brenheran was vital for the future of Sives. A kingdom without a king. A land split and plagued by war for centuries with no prospect of peace. Tyrem Brenheran was the first lord since the kingdom had fallen apart after the Great War of Neredyn, who offered a chance at peace. That was why he had chosen the grumpy lord over his meandering through the lands and was still in his service. That’s why he had done his duty every year for over a decade and retrieved the children from their homes on Vernal Equinox. That’s why he had taken her.
His chest tightened at the glare Gandrett shot at him. She had no idea how right she was about it. To despise him. It was one of the reasons he had chosen not to reveal his identity to her right away, the shame that still lingered after ten years, the fear in her eyes when he had torn her from her mother’s arms, the pleas in the woman’s eyes when he had taken her child—
Gandrett stood still, unyielding under his gaze. He had asked her on their journey here what she remembered about her life before the order, and she had given no sign she remembered that he had been there that day her childhood had gone to Hel’s realms. How often he wished the god of death would take his revenge on him, but he was still there, roaming the realms of Neredyn as he had been for hundreds of years. So he blinked away his guilt and stepped forward, all arrogance and coldness, a shield against what tried to break free within him, from what he had to do.
“What a lovely surprise, Chancellor,” Gandrett said sweetly. So sweetly it tasted bitter in her mouth.
Nehelon didn’t give a sign he had heard the twist on the sound of his title as she had spoken it. He just took a step into the room, arms dropping to his sides, exposing his muscled chest clothed in a clean, white shirt, a burgundy jacket hanging open as if he hadn’t cared to finish dressing. He looked human, the glamour properly in place, no sign of his pointed ears, even now that his hair was bound at his neck, leaving them exposed.
“Miss Brayton.” He inclined his head just enough to give his demeanor a gentlemanly touch. Gandrett knew his manners were as much a glamour as the roundness of his ears. As he took another step closer, he dismissed Eugina with a word of thanks then waited in silence until the servant had left.
“Is something the matter?” Gandrett asked as all he did was stare at her, seemingly lost for words.
Nehelon shook his head. “I just thought—” he paused, cleared his throat, “—that I’d check in.” He smoothed his jacket as if he was only noticing he hadn’t buttoned it. “You know, make sure you got something to eat…” His voice trailed away as his eyes fell on the belt. “I see you got clothes.”
“No leathers or armor,” she pointed out. “So you’ll need to wait your turn until tomorrow at dawn.” She saw it there in his eyes that her cocky words didn’t flare the same fury as they had this morning but, instead, some sort of discomfort that was impossible to understand. “You are still up for training, right?”
Nehelon nodded and turned his head, listening to something only he could hear with his Fae ears.
A moment later, the door burst open, and a young woman with hair the color of sunshine and familiar, emerald eyes swept in, the train of her black gown flaring behind her. “Where is she?”
Chapter Seventeen
The girl stormed into the room, sizing up Gandrett with keen eyes as she maneuvered to the table, gracefully dropped into a chair, and pulled Gandrett’s abandoned tray toward her. “No wonder they want me to teach you manners if you are too barbaric to recognize the fine tastes of Sives’s seas.”
Gandrett shot Nehelon a look that was meant to ask whether he or she were going to draw their swords, but Nehelon was already prowling over to take the vacant chair across from the girl. “And good day to you, Mckenzie,” he growled, somewhat annoyed.
It was a relief to know there was something between furious and emotionless with the male. But the way the girl he had called Mckenzie leaned back and shuttered her black lashes-frame
d eyelids gave Gandrett the feeling that there was some history there that she’d rather not know about.
“I know that it makes your miserable life a bit more bearable if you spend your time where the radiance of beautiful women can touch your heart of stone,” she looked up and winked at Gandrett, “but—what are you doing here?”
Nehelon snorted and folded his arms, studying the tray on the table rather than meeting the young woman’s gaze. “Gandrett Brayton, meet Mckenzie Brenheran, daughter of Lord Tyrem and Lady Crystal Brenheran…”
“Yes, yes,” Mckenzie interrupted him, impatient, and stood. “And you are the famous Gandrett Brayton.” She prowled toward where Gandrett stood too far from her sword to casually grab it.
“Famous?” Gandrett mouthed at Nehelon, who shrugged.
“Well, it’s not easy to get this man on his back,” Mckenzie chirped and reached behind her to pat Nehelon’s shoulder. “Trust me,” she grinned the smile of women who had secrets to share, “I would know.”
Gandrett stifled a cough and silently wondered why Nehelon hadn’t already pinned the woman against the wall and bitten her for behaving the way she did.
To her surprised, she found Nehelon shrinking slightly in his chair.
“Let me know if you ever need help with that,” Gandrett offered with a generous smile and got a bright one from Mckenzie in return.
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