Every eye was on me, and I was keenly aware of how I was both half-dressed and defended by Fieran. There were obvious conclusions anyone could draw.
I took a step back, but I couldn’t go back through the door to the dragons’ wing. It was locked behind me. I’d have to flee around the table to reach the servants’ quarters. Either past the whole clan or past Fieran. I wouldn’t run from either.
His attention, when it snagged on me, was all-consuming.
“Come on, little mortal,” Fieran told me, once again relaxed and smiling and now, I was convinced, always wearing a mask as Anayla had claimed. “I’ll take care of your training myself.”
“First I want to see my brother.”
“Oh? Are we making demands?” His brows arched. “Clearly, you need my guidance in a special class I’m going to callWays To Keep Your Flimsy Mortal Life Intact Another Day.”
“You owe me seeing him.” I wasn’t sure how my voice sounded so brash and sure of myself, but I was certainly going to marvel at it late tonight when I replayed the look on his face. “You got me hurt. You told me you were going to protect me, and I was afraid I was going to die on day one. You told me you were going to prepare me, yet today I’m less ready for the arena than I was when you snatched me out of my village.”
Every word came out crisp, over-enunciated, maybe because I was keenly aware we were being watched.
He must not have appreciated that fact, because he flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture, and the clan began to move.
While I dreaded it, I needed him now to prepare for the arena. Maybe I’d entertained dreams of bravely standing my ground in an arena full of shifters who stood head-and-shoulders taller, who were faster, better trained, and far less fragile.
Now I’d seen one of them stalk my way, knowing she mightaccidentallymurder me because I was so flimsy, and the panicked flutter of beingpreykept scraping me hollow.
I didn’t want to be the first mortal in that arena, but if I couldn’tescape that fate, I’d like to at least be the first mortal who didn’t piss her pants.
The other shifters were standing, chairs shuffling across the floor, a low murmur of voices filling the air.
They were all deliberately avoiding looking at Fieran and me, but they were listening. Shifters were nosy gossips.
“Come with me,” he growled, stalking toward my room. “We’ll discuss this privately.”
I sauntered after him, trying to play off the tension that had settled over my body at his stern tone, especially after watching him exile Maura. And must he walk into my room? I glanced at the faces of the clan, scanning for the knowing looks I thought might rise in his wake, but they were carefully blank.
Wouldhe claim me for Clan Bismyth? He must know what the clans would think. I’d been assuming he needed me, but his willingness to cast out someone I’d thought was one of his closest friends left me unsettled.
Fieran seemed unpredictable.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling hewas, if I could just unravel his secrets. He had some grand and terrible plan that involved me…and that I needed to understand.
Twenty-Five
Ifollowed him into my servants’ quarters. He frowned at the junk surrounding us, then his heated, golden gaze locked on mine. He came toward me and then leaned past me to close the door. I refused to move, despite my natural impulse to back away from giant, angry Fae men, so I was once again eye-level with his broad chest, breathing in his scent of soap and spice, as he pushed the door so it swung shut behind me.
He didn’t back away. I looked up at him, crossing my arms to create a little distance, even though I refused to back away. Those damned molten gold eyes met mine.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine?” I repeated. I’d almost lost track of our original conversation as I tried to fight both my sense of intimidation and the damned attraction to him that always lurked under the surface of my skin.
Right. I’d demanded to see Tay. My lapse in memory made me feel flustered, which always made me mean—or at least honest. “Really? You dragged me off so everyone would think you werescarybefore you could agree to what I asked? Your clan is probably out there thinking I’m being murdered—or fucked—I’m not entirely sure which is worse?—”
“You don’t make it easy to sayyesto you, do you?” He cut in. Hiseyes roamed over me, a furrow dimpling the skin between his dark brows. “Get out of my tunic, for gods’ sake. We can go as soon as you’re ready.”
I touched the neck of my tunic. Neither of us had backed away, and it suddenly occurred to me that if he were irritated with me now, it might be because there was another, deeper emotion he didn’t want to admit.
Was Fieran affected, seeing me wear his clothes?
“I’m so sorry,” I told him, almost managing to approach sincerity, which made his brows arch. Then I pulled the tunic over my head, and his eyes widened. His surprise tilted over into a split-second of other emotions flashing over his face before he was back tostoic.“You do need this back.”
I bundled the tunic up and pushed it into his hands. “There you are.”
