The shelves once again did their spin thing, then popped out a book that sped toward me, its pages flipping open even before it had stopped. The blade was an unadorned silver that looked translucent, but the guard was shaped like a snake, the grip was scaled, and the pommel was the head of a viper, its mouth open and eyes rubies that gleamed with a bloody fire.
I glanced up.Is Bia capable of taking other forms?
The snake is her preferred form, but she can take others.
Mythically, snakes were seen as deceitful, vengeful, vindictive, or sly creatures, so it was somewhat appropriate that a goddess of force and compulsion would take that form.Can anyone use her artifact, or is it restricted to those with an unscrupulous nature?
Few gods restrict the usage of their artifacts. It lessens the chance of chaos.
The fucking gods and their fucking chaos...I don’t suppose you have any record that would help us find her dagger?
Your supposition is correct—I do not.
I snorted softly, the sound running like laughter through the brightness.Then I thank you for time, Aasym.
It has been a pleasure, as usual, Bethany.
With a nod, I stepped back into the maelstrom, and then into my body. By that time, my heart raced, my breathing was rapid and shallow, and my chest burned so badly it was hard to breathe. I released the triune and leaned back against the sofa’s headrest, closing my eyes against the suddenly overbright light in the room and taking deep, slow breaths in an effort to control the fierce ache in brain and body.
It took nearly ten minutes for the pain to start subsiding. I leaned sideways, carefully picked up my tea and the chocolate, and alternated between the two until I felt normal. Or as normal as I was ever likely to get.
After a few more minutes, I became aware of the noise drifting up from the lower floors. We obviously had a good crowd in tonight, which was surprising. It might be a Friday night, but it was also mid-February, and the entire month was usually pretty slow thanks to generally horrid winter conditions.
I climbed to my feet, walked back to the flue to hide the triune, then collected my cup and the chocolate wrapper and headed back down the loft ladder. After locking it back up, I dumped the cup in the sink, the rubbish in the bin, then walked into my bedroom to change into the tavern’s uniform. Mom had decided when she’d taken over that not only should a tavern bearing the name Ye Olde Pixie Boots have said boots hanging from the ceilings, but all staff manning the public areas should be appropriately attired, which was why we women now wore leather shorts, a leather-and-lace corset-type shirt, thick woolen leggings, and pointed leather boots. While the outfit did not reveal a whole lot of flesh, it was form-fitting, and the corset did enhance what was already there—which, if you already had larger breasts, as I did, certainly did put a sexier spin on things. The men had it a little easier—while they wore the same boots, their uniform was form-fitting leather pants and shirt.
I clattered down the stairs and helped out wherever I was needed, be it serving behind one of the bars or clearing tables, freeing other staff to help carry the meals out. My scraped face did get a lot of sympathy and comments, especially from the regulars, who offered all manner of weird and sometimes amusing advice on how to speed up the healing or what to do when I found the bastard who ran into me.
“Now that,” Ingrid said as she locked the door out onto the row then turned the Open sign around to Closed, “was a damn good night. You want help with the tills?”
I shook my head. “Grab an early night while you can. Who knows when I’ll be able to help out like that again.”
“That being the case, we might be needing to employ more casuals, especially now we’re rolling toward shoulder season.”
“If you’ve anyone in mind, set up an interview.”
She nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
Once she and the other staff had left, I checked all the doors were locked then began the odious task of doing the tills and checking the stock. It was close to one by the time I stumbled upstairs, but as tired as I was, I just couldn’t sleep.
There was a restlessness within that just wouldn’t shut up.
A restlessness that was based in foresight but also held undeniable flickers of need. Of desire.
The former was insisting I talk to Cynwrig. The latter just wanted him.
I swore softly at the way my pulse leapt at the mere thought of seeing him again, even if only on the dreaming plane, then I threw the blankets off and padded across to the wardrobe to reclaim the gorgeous black velvet box I’d hidden at the very back of the top shelf. I had better hiding places in the bedroom, of course, but at least a couple of thieves now knew about them, and I had no idea if the pair of them were in jail or out on bail.I doubted they’d risk Sgott’s wrath by breaking into the tavern again, but neither had seemed to be the brightest tool in the box.
I walked back to the bed and crossed my legs as I examined the jewelry box. It was roughly five inches square and had the Lùtair shield emblazoned in silver on the top. I ran my finger lightly over the hammer and anvil crest, then pressed the small button on the side. The lid sprang open, revealing the bracelet sitting in a bed of black silk. It was made of a polished stone the color of midnight, and its surface was alive with tiny stars. I hesitated, then ran one finger across it. The stone was warm against my skin, and the stars pulsed, as if in recognition of my touch. The urge to slide it over my wrist was once again so strong I’d lifted the bracelet from the silk before caution reasserted itself. I had no idea what might happen once I put this thing on, but one thing was certain—I wasn’t going to step ontoanytype of field, dreaming or not, sans clothes, even if my hormones and my heart wanted nothing more than to get naked and madly passionate with the man I was about to see.
I slipped off the bed again and tugged on knickers, sweatpants, and a T-shirt. Not exactly the sexiest of outfits, but I doubted Cynwrig would care. He was very familiar with every curve of my body, and knew, all too well, how easy it was to remove my layers. The flimsy barrier was more for my sake than his.
I made myself comfortable again, but for several seconds, did nothing more than stare at the bracelet sitting so snugly in its bed of silk. If I did this, there would be no going back. I knew that. If I was wrong about Eljin, if the Eye’s reaction was nothing more than an echo of my own insecurities about a relationship with him, then taking this step would put an end to any hope I might hold for a future with him. Because I couldn’t live a lie. I couldn’t let him believe that Cynwrig was out of the picture for the next three months. Couldn’t allow the narrative that wehad the time to explore our relationship and possibly develop it into something stronger to continue when I knew it could never, ever, be as strong as the connection I felt with the man who would never be mine.
I liked Eljin, I really did, and I’d definitely continue to sleep with him as long as he didn’t, in fact, turn out to be a bad guy. But ours was a relationship that wasn’t destined to move beyond a “friend with benefits” scenario, no matter how much I might have hoped otherwise.
Perhapsthatwas what the Eye was trying to tell me.
And yet, given my father had stated Cynwrig had been placed in my path to cause chaos, dare I take the bait any more than I had?
