“What ishedoing here?” I ask in a fierce whisper.
As much as I like Fenryn, he’s in a position of power. One that could make our lives difficult—moredifficult. I’d much prefer keeping him at a distance until things aren’t quite as messy.
“He’s an ally,” Ryc answers softly. “Allies meet.”
“He’syourally,” I counter, indignant.
Ryc shakes his head with a scoffed laugh. “He’sourally, little love.”
“Our?” I repeat, bitter. “Does he know?” I demand, piercing Ryc with a fierce stare. “Does he know I’m innateless? About the crystal? Vaelyn? Rowen?”
Surprised by my tone, Ryc steps back. “Not—”
“Then you do nottrusthim,” I interject in a brash whisper. “He may serveyourpurpose, but he does not servemine.”
“A rather cold perspective,” Ryc replies with a slow, realizing nod. “But one I can understand, given your history.” He pauses, lifting a hand to rub at his brow. “Listen, I trust Fenryn. The decision not to share those details isn’t because I don’t—it’s because they’re not mine to share.”
The heat of my indignant anger sputters and I grip it tight.
Fenryn has done nothing to prove to me he won’t turn on Ryc for his own benefit. Until then, my reluctance is better held.
“He may not know your secrets,” Ryc says. “But he knows mine. He’s known for the last six centuries.”
“Your aversion is well placed,” Fenryn’s muffled voice leaks through the closed door. “Smart to be wary in the company of Sovereign Kings. They’re all bastards.”
I close my eyes, heaving a long, long defeated sigh.
The damn imp has likely heardeveryword. What he didn’t know before, he knows now.
Ryc chuckles and I level a withering glare at the door. Leaning in, he tilts my chin upward with a gentle hand to leave a lingering kiss upon my cheek.
“If you’d rather him leave for this conversation,” he says, his lips brushing against mine, “he’ll leave.”
A dejected, muffled jeer sounds behind the door. “Ves, how am I supposed to win you over if you continue to hide from me?”
Grinning, Ryc straightens himself.
“He is my Eve,” Ryc says quietly.
I smother my defeated groan.
I can’t argue that.
With a triumphant smirk, Ryc opens the door and gestures with a toss of his head. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “As nosey as he is, he’s worth having around.”
“Nosy?” Fenryn echoes, mocking offense as Ryc closes the door behind us. “Of all the things you choose to call me, you choose nosy?”
“Didn’t you agree to leave?” Ryc laughs as he ushers me to his seat. He props himself against the short side of the desk as I seat myself. Folding his arms over his chest he says, “Or do I have to tell you to leave?”
Fenryn laughs, his smile bright enough to rival the sun. “Nay, you needn’t tell me. I know when I’m not wanted.”
The massive fae runs a hand through his tousled hair making a larger mess of the mess already there. His golden mane sits wrangled atop his head in a bun similar to the researchers earlier. Sans pens.
In fact, it’s strange to see him so…unpolished.
Donning white linen pants and a barely-buttoned matching shirt, he appears to have rolled out of bed and into Ryc’s study. Judging by the half-awake look accompanying his smile, I’m inclined to believe the truth doesn’t lie far off. And I wonder if Lilith is remains asleep believing him still beside her.
“Before I go, let me say this.” Fenryn sits up, uncrossing his legs. “Of all the Sovereign Kings you’ll have the misfortune of knowing, at least I’m good-lookingandhilarious.” He shrugs callously with a quick downturned tilt of his lips.
