I settled into the soft couch and began to read through my book of Bismyth shifters.
The click of a door closing alerted me that I wasn’t alone. I twisted against the cushions; I wouldn’t be surprised if Rees could close the door too.
Fieran stood there, his hair tousled, his eyes shadowed. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but the fitted black trousers he wore for training; elaborate tattoos decorated his chiseled torso, shoulders, and arms.
It was disquieting, knowing he also lay awake despite all his plotting. Maybe he wasn’t as sure of his schemes as he seemed in the daylight.
“Can’t sleep?” He crossed the room to the bar in the corner, where there were dozens of glasses and crystal bottles.
“Too excited for tomorrow. You?”
“Nightmares?” His broad back—decorated with more ink—rippled with muscle as he fixed himself a drink. He didn’t offer me one.
“No,” I lied, because he would imply it was because of the curse, that the nightmares would fade tomorrow.
If he were right—and that tiny possibility nagged at me—I would burn.
“Good.” He came over to the sofa carrying two glasses. Of course he did, just to make me feel like a jerk. He handed one to me, our fingers briefly brushing. “Drink. It’s good for sleep. You’re hungry?”
I shrugged. He went to the table and perched on the edge of it, as if he were putting distance between us. He took the covers off the trays and set them on the table. When he caught me watching, I jerked my gaze away.
“They like to have a midnight snack.” He nodded toward the hall.
“I didn’t see it out here before.”
“Well, your vision is dismal, even for a mortal,” he said dismissively.But I knew better. He’d ordered the food for my sake. “Do you want one of these apple handpies?”
“Fieran,” I cut him off. Gods, did he have to bethoughtful?It was just another trick, I reminded myself sternly. “I don’t want food.”
“Fine. It’s here any time.”
I nodded, feeling bare before him. When had he noticed my pockets bulging with bread or my hidden hoard in my room? Did everyone else know?
“I have something for you to use tomorrow. The perfect dirty trick.” He sat beside me on the sofa.
His presence—tall, powerful, and far too undressed—was too distracting.Hewas the perfect dirty trick; I could barely keep up with him at the best of times. “Could you put a shirt on?”
He gave me a cocky, delighted grin, as if he knew just why I asked. He remained shirtless—of course he did—as he twisted his ring off his finger.
“I’m not marrying you.”
“Of course not. You haven’t even asked me yet,” he said reasonably. He held it out to me. “It’s a luck charm.”
“Is it?”
“Mm. Some magic my mother stole long ago, along with the amulet and—” He stopped himself abruptly, restarted. “My mother would’ve kept it from me if she could, but itwillbe my wedding ring someday, so she can’t. For now, though, it’s merely enchanted gold.”
“Merely gold?” My brows arched. “Spoken like the rich, spoiled prince.”
“It tilts luck.” He took my hand in his and set it in my palm, curling my fingers around it. “Throw dice—or a punch—that could land awry, and it will always land in your favor instead.”
“Why are you giving this to me? You’ve told me the Recruits’ Trials would be brief and painful. Why trust me with something so valuable?”
He shrugged.
“You always wear it.” I regretted the words as soon as his lips curled, pleased to know I paid so much attention. I rubbed my thumb over the runes engraved in the side. “What’s this? An enchantment?”
“My sigil. Your mortals don’t do those, right? You just sign your name to contracts, instead of having marks that bind you by magic?”
