“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”
“Oh?”
“I’d like to go through with the party.”
He pauses with the toast halfway to his mouth. “You’re aware we stand on the eve of battle, yes? We cannot afford a distraction.”
“How quickly do you think the darkwalkers will reorganize?”
He chews in thought. “It is difficult to say. Someone or something is controlling them, but I’ve yet to learn what or who. We cannot lower our guard, not for a moment. We must prepare for when they strike back.”
Arms crossed, I study him with the confidence of one who knows what they’re doing. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. “Why can’t we do both?”
Boreas offers me a slice of melon. I already ate, but I accept the offering, as I’m feeling particularly amicable this morning. He watches me chew, and his focus is so acute I have to turn away.
Of course, my attention falls to the bed, its rumpled blankets. I glance away, but Boreas’ nostrils flare as though scenting the spike in my arousal, even though that’s impossible.
“Thinking about something?” he murmurs knowingly.
“No.”
He steps closer. “Your cheeks are flushed.”
My gaze dips to his chest, lower, to the unmistakable erection constrained by the seam of his trousers. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. But that would be a terrible idea. Probably.
Clearing my throat, I glance up at him. His fingers lift to my face, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture tender and, it seems, heartfelt.
“Are you thinking of last night?” he asks lowly.
“Of course not,” I snap, chin thrust out. “I am a delicate flower.”
Warm laughter helps drive back the chill the room holds. “I have never heard something so untrue.”
“Look, I know what you’re going to say about the party. You’ll say you don’t want people in your space, but your men are weary. The townsfolk are frightened. I think a celebration would help lift everyone’s mood. We can have it tomorrow. The decorations are still in place, andthere is enough food. Surely the darkwalkers can’t regroup so quickly after so much loss—”
He sighs. “Wren.”
“—and I really think it would help boost morale, and let’s face it, eternal winter is hard enough without the poorly decorated interior—”
“Wren.”
“—and even though you’re mad at me for hosting this party in the first place and not telling you I invited the entire town—”
“Wren.”
“What?” I snap.
“The answer is yes.”
“You—oh.” My arms fall. “Really?”
He dips his chin. “On one condition.”
Of course it would not be that easy. “And that is?”
“You must invite your sister.”
36
