So Clan Amber slept just one level away from us. Interesting.
Ander didn’t seem to have any love lost for Fieran, so I hoped he’d be willing to talk to me.
Still, when I reached their arch, I hesitated. I wasn’t excited by the idea of blundering into their common room.
Through the arched doorway, the common room opened in a spill of muted light. Low couches were gathered around small tables, and yellow and orange tapestries warmed the walls. It looked cozy.
Nixi was gone.
I glanced over the landing to see if anyone from Fieran’s clan could see me standing here. But every face down there remained the same dream-like blur. I desperately needed glasses.
I moved as if I were heading toward the next set of stairs, then whirled at the last moment and moved through the archway. As soon as I stepped through it, I breathed in a scent of citrus and smoke, the rooms warmer than the cool staircase.
Ander came down the hallway, impeccable in his dark tunic. His face—handsome in the kind of way that made you forget what you’d meant to say—was drawn tight with focus, until his eyes met mine.
For a heartbeat, surprise flickered there, softening him. Then it was gone, buried beneath that soldier’s composure.
He covered the rest of the hallway in a few strides and then was in the common room with me, closing the door behind him.
I glanced back at the door I’d just come through. The arched door was enormous and elaborately carved, and it was heavier than I expected when I swung it shut.
Now the two of us were alone. The room was expansive, the ceilings high, but I felt too close to Ander, too awkward, even though there were two couches between us.
“Cara, are you all right?” His voice—low and steady—soothed tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying until my furled hands unfolded.
I rested my hands lightly on the back of one of the sofas, feeling the soft, plush fabric under my palms. His worry was so clear, so genuine, that I didn’t know how to meet it. “Probably not. But dinner was lovely.”
“Was it?” His gaze searched my face as if he didn’t believe me. Whatever he saw there seemed to confirm his suspicions. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Here with you? Or here at the Trials?”
“Both.” The corner of his mouth twitched, though it never quite became a smile. He looked at me the way a patient teacher might regard a stubborn student—equal parts exasperation and concern. “Doyouthink you should be here?”
“I think I don’t have a choice.”
The words hung between us heavily. The bitterness had been too evident in my voice, and Ander’s face tightened.
“Why is that?” There was a dangerous note in his voice.
I struggled with whether or not to say my next words. I hated needing help. But for Tay, I’d do anything. “My brother’s sick.”
Something in Ander’s face softened instantly. The hardness around his eyes eased, and he took a step closer. But it didn’t feel as if he were invading my space. “Sick?”
The concern in his voice shouldn’t have made my throat tighten, but it did.
I nodded, afraid my voice would wobble, before I managed to force out, “Dying.”
He studied me, every trace of his earlier severity gone.
“Tell me,” he said, but it didn’t feel like a command. It felt like a promise.
I tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear and discovered my fingers were shaking. Wonderful. I folded my hands under my arms, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Fieran promised to make a bargain with the Fae.”
Ander stared at me with so much anger written across his face that I braced myself not to step back. His long, lean muscles corded with tension like a leopard about to spring.
“That. Fucking. Asshole,” he pronounced. His every word was so full of disgust that I felt my shoulders relax, as if I were no longer responsible for carrying the full weight of Fieran alone.
Still. I needed information, and this was my chance. “Why do you say that?”
