Well, even having my legs burn was better than being in his arms again. I set off, climbing up the stairs. Each landing led to another arched door dug into the stone, through which I could glimpse shifters moving around, bantering back and forth.
Their voices made me feel more alone.
I reached the top, panting and trying my best not to.
Fieran was waiting, looking tranquil. “I’ll show you to your room. Each clan lives in their own hallway.”
He led me into a large common room. There was a door behind itleading to a hall, and rooms clearly off the hall. I started toward it, but he led me toward a door off the common room.
“Servants’ quarters,” he told me over his shoulder. “No clan keeps servants overnight anymore, so it’s storage.”
“Why do I have to sleep in the servants’ quarters? Because I’m mortal?”
“No. You keep looking at me like you plan to kill me, and you can’t sleep next to me if you’re going to try to kill me.”
“I don’t want to sleep next to you!”
“If it doesn’t ruin your plotting, then why do you sound so offended by the distance between us?”
He opened the door and showed me into a room that was larger than the cottage where I’d grown up. Windows along one side opened up to the gorgeous entryway, and through a doorway on the other side, I caught a glimpse of a luxurious bathroom. I was determined not to be impressed.
Especially when these were servants’ quarters, though nicer than anyplace I’d ever stayed in my life.
And especially when they were distinctly dusty and crowded with a wide variety of miscellany. There were spare lamps and mattresses, a stack of chairs, training mats piled up in the corner, a wood-and-leather horse, and crates of books.
“I’ll be back to get you for dinner,” he told me. “Please stay in your room unless you’re with me or one of the others.”
“Why?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Mortals aren’t always treated well.”
I glanced at our reflection in the dusty mirrors that leaned up against one wall. We were a blurry reflection, but it was still clear enough he was tall and chiseled and beautiful. I looked short and rounded in comparison, my features as soft as my curves. “You know this is a mistake, Fieran. I’m not a dragon shifter. I can’t be.”
“Then what’s this?” He reached for my neck.
I whirled away so quickly that his fingers never brushed my skin. “Don’t touch me, Fieran.”
He raised his hands in silent apology. “I won’t.”
“You brought me here.” Every word was crisp. “Knowing I’ll suffer.”
“You were going to suffer either way.” He sounded unrepentant.
“If you could go…”
“Perhaps being up here in the tower will help you conquer your fear of heights before you have to fly with your own wings.”
“I’m not afraid of heights.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping imaginary horns with both fists so tightly that his knuckles went white. “I could tell.”
I stared at his offensively handsome face. His accusation stung far more because it was true. “As I said, if you could leave me…”
“Tay will be brought here tomorrow,” he told me. “It wasn’t safe for him to fly with us, so I’ll arrange medical transport. He’s going to be fine until we get a Fae cure. I’ll put him up in my house, and you can visit him any time.”
I wanted it to be true so badly that it hurt.
I stared at him, feeling as if he kept doling out information so he could leave on his own terms, instead of when I demanded it. I resisted the impulse to tell him again that he could leave and managed a curt, “Thank you.”
