The half-prepared argument on my tongue dies ashis words sink in. I sit frozen, staring at the handsome fae before me.
“What?” I manage to find my voice.
“I cannot promise the vampire court will agree to meeting, but I will send word requesting an audience,” he says with a sigh.
That’s it?
No further argument? No contention? No stipulations?No terms?
It’s too good to be true.
“I do have one request,” he says and I’m unable to keep the small smile from my face.
Ah, there it is.
There’s the expected exchange.
“If he agrees to meet, no bartering,” he says with a slow shake of his head. “Erus cannot andwewill not be indebted to vampires.”
It’s not an unjust or unfair ask.
Meeting with vampire royalty is a danger to Ryc and his position within the council. He’s going to be meeting with a natural enemy of theliving. The least I can do is refrain from making the meeting any more damning than it needs to be.
Pulling myself from my seat, I close the distance between us. Leaning close, I brush some of his hair aside, leaving a soft kiss upon his cheek.
“Of course,” I whisper. “And thank you.”
“Thank me when we’ve reached the other side,” he says, his voice low as his hands find my hips. “Once we’ve gotten through this.”
“You keep giving me what I want, you’re going to create a creature worse than a demon,” I reply and he laughs.
“Dare I ask what could be worse than a demon?”
“A spoiled fae,” I quip and he bursts into laughter.
His grip on my hip tightens as he leans back, reaching across the desk. Snagging the small, jeweled box Fenryn left, he straightens himself, holding it between us.
“I’ve kept this for a very long time. Always on my desk or with me during my travels,” Ryc says, his voice soft as he slowly turns the box in his hands.
Whatever it is, it’s a beautiful thing, encrusted with glittering emeralds. They scatter the early morning light coming through the windows. Cut to resemble ivy leaves, the silver snakes betweeneach gem like vines.
“It became a reminder,” Ryc adds.
“A reminder?” My brows crease.
He smiles, lifting his eyes to mine. “To keep searching for you.”
Turning the box, he pries it open, revealing a silver ring nestled on a bed of black velvet. A gleaming, square faceted moonstone shines with hues of iridescent blue across its surface. Like the box itself, the silver band resembles twining vines.
Much like the veilflowers.
The air in my lungs evaporates.
A gift of silver.
“While this isn’t how I wanted to give this to you,” he says, the regret in his tone clear, “I hope you’ll accept it anyway.”
I stammer, trying to find the ability to form words. The idea of wearing what is essentially a visible brand causes my blood tosing.And I don’t know if it’s the foolish fae or the damn demonic part of me that finds wearingRyc’sbrandthrilling.
