So I fell back on what I knew best. I read as many books as I could find in the library about the ancient people of Avanfell and magical theory—anything to see if even a single line could tell me something about his curse or the ring it had come from—and made more tinctures for him.
As the early hours of the morning crept in, I was still weaving magic into them. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I’d left my gifts where he could find them. I weighed my options. Because Emrys was out, his steward was taking a well-earned vacation, which meant that breaking into his room was a viable plan—mainly because his door was unlocked.
Too afraid to draw attention to myself, I snuck in without a candle to light my way. From what I could make out in the darkness, his room was well-decorated, much like mine, but more masculine with its crimson velvet curtains and an even larger bed.
I could smell him in the room. Leather, hearth smoke, and something wild. I wanted to linger there, to explore, to learn more about him in private since he wouldn’t open up to me. But fear got the better of me, and I quickly set down my gifts so I could rush out.
Then I felt the brush of something cold and familiar against my senses. The small hairs at the nape of my neck lifted in warning as my heart beat out a staccato of panic and relief, mixed with a primal recognition that went straight to my core.
I knew that pulse—I knewhim. He was close.
I’d been caught…again.
Chapter 34
Emrys
I lost myself in patrolling our border, in the slaughter of raiders for two more days. But on the third, I returned to the castle under cover of darkness. I didn’t want them—not the guards, not my brother, least of allher—to see me with the lingering stains of my fury in the light of day.
I’d rinsed myself in the river several times, but I’d been in a rush to leave. Without soap or even a change of clothing, I was foul beyond the lowest standards of human decency. My armor stayed on until I reached the stables. With numb fingers, I stripped it off and left it there, still stained. I would retrieve it in the morning.
I washed once more in the cold water of a barrel meant for the horses, scrubbing until my skin was red and raw. But it didn’t matter how deeply I washed; the grime of my shame was beneath the surface. And I still smelled like a charnel house. It didn’t matter; I’d sleep on the stone floor of my room and bathe in the morning.
At the very least, I might be safer to be around for a little while.
The torches in the corridor flickered low, throwing lines of shadow across the passages as I moved through the castle. I nodded stiffly to the sentries stationed outside my wing, each of them trained well enough not to ask where I’d been or why I’d returned looking like death walking.
The halls echoed with my footsteps until I reached the door to my chamber…which was open. Strange. When I slipped inside, the hearth was cold—as expected. There was no reason my manservant would’ve lit it in my absence.
What was unexpected was a shape in the dark.
My body stilled. Muscles tensed. In the haze of weariness and the ebb of bloodlust, I almost didn’t trust what I was seeing. My magic should’ve sensed anyone the instant I crossed the threshold.
Magical silence wrapped around me as I advanced on the figure with careful, predatory steps.
The shape was too small to be one of my brother’s guards, a warrior, or even my manservant. A young thief, then? Another Assembly spy?
Bold and incredibly stupid to think of stealing from me. The beast within was sated and lazy enough that I could approach with reasoned caution instead of rage.
I was nearly upon them when I caught the scent of lavender.
My chest tightened, heart stuttered. The scent cooled me quicker than a bucket of icy water. She shifted, placing something on the table, and the braid trailing down her back shimmered in the faint moonlight filtering through the arched windows. The same fur robe from our first nighttime meeting hung loose about her shoulders.
I should’ve announced myself, but I was too busy staring.
My fingers reached out before I could stop them. The silk of her braid slid between my thumb and forefinger like spun gold.
“I’ve never seen a thief,” I said quietly, not to break the stillness of the room, “with hair like this.”
Isca’s shoulders tightened as she turned—her robe slipping from one, baring pale skin to the cold air. Her mouth opened, and a shaky, barely audible whisper escaped her lips. “I-I brought you more tinctures. To help.”
She gestured weakly to a few small jars placed carefully on my desk. Her chin lifted, but her shoulders were taut like a bird poised for flight. Instead of panic, which I’d expected to see, her jaw was set, eyes unwavering—enough stubborn determination to quell any man.
That look, I quickly realized, was a challenge.
I was still holding her braid, stroking it slowly between two fingers. I told myself to drop it, but my body wouldn’t listen. The rest of me was frozen, locked in place by the unwavering focus of her attention.
I wanted that stare to be permission—an invitation, to set me free to do all the things I’d imagined in a hundred different ways.
