Nimai strode forward, and Ever let go of Bo’s hand to step pointedly in front of him. Like the last time, but … different. Ever, confident now, or at least pissed off enough to fake it.
“No, Nimai. You won’t touch him.”
“And you won’t stop me. You never have. You’repathetic, Everil.” Nimai’s voice turned cajoling, warm. “My love, this is for your own good.”
Bo shivered, looking down at the first lick of ice at his soul. The pale wood floor darkened, went softer and textured with age, the scent of dust and shadows in the air. Power crackled, brought with it the steady whisper of water, somewhere just out of sight.
Bo grinned.
“I’m no longer interested in your form of protection,” Everil answered. Soft. Calm. Unwavering. Fucking badass.
“Even so.Icare about you. Despite everything,Everil. He never will.”
“Perhaps,” and still so quiet, unmoving, and no shame, “but my statements stand. You won’t touch him. Bo is my consort.”
“Summer, save me from yourtantrums. If you could hear yourself. Be glad no one else is witness to this nonsense you’re spouting; it would take decades to make right. Consort? Winter King?”
“Nimai–”
“Even if those magics were anything but stories, you imagine Faerie would allowyouto assume the role? Would accept as supplication the squalid rutting of akelpieand his whore?”
Nimai was close, too close, his voice growing brighter, harder with every word. Even with that, witheverything, Bo didn’t expect him to reach out to snatch Ever’s holly crown.
But he did. Hefucking did, and the air filled with the unmistakable tang of fresh blood.
The crown clung like it had when Bo’d tried to remove it. But this time, the leaves cut sharp into Ever’s scalp, pain blossoming through their bond. Blood flowed, fresh and red, dripping down his face.
Dark strands gone sticky, even as the leaves under Nimai’s palm looked soft, leaving the brownie’s palm untouched.
Ever hissed, and Nimai, the fuckingprick, bared his teeth. He tugged harder, ignoring Everil’s pain hiss and Bo’s yell of anger. The holly crown dug in; Bo couldseethe spines weaving themselves togetherunderEver’s skin.
Blood traced like tears down Ever’s cheeks, then to the floor. Each drip smelled of sandalwood and old places and red copper.
“Nimai,” and Ever’s words were pain-choked but gentle, his gray eyes lined with blood from the raw, ugly wounds on his forehead, “you’ve cut me.”
Nimai’s horror was slow dawning but very fucking real, eyes wide and hand slack on the crown.
“Oh fuck, I thought he couldn’t–” Bo reached for the back of Ever’s shirt, fingers curling tight in the light fabric. He didn’t pull, though. Didn’t step around Ever’s side to see how far down his forehead those spines went.
“ ‘Shouldn’t’ is more accurate,” Ever said, calm as a goddamn cucumber and giddy like a schoolgirl under that, where only Bo could feel. “I’m asking you to let go, Nimai. Please don’t require me to tell you.”
“It wasn’t myintention,” Nimai said, defensive, before Bo could get out the words to tell the bastard to back off. “This isyourfault.”
The fucker let go, though. His fingers red-stained but whole. Ever’s breathing went shallow, and Bo couldseethe spines pulling back from under the kelpie’s golden skin. Jesus.
Pain in the set of Ever’s jaw. The bond, though…
Release. Cut strings. Stepping out of a courtroom knowing something important had happened but unsure of how to move forward.
Bo leaned in, wrapping an arm around his bond’s waist.
“Your oath made no reference to intention,” Ever was saying while Bo tried to hold on.
Bo kissed Ever’s shoulder and tried his best to let him handle it. Not that it stopped him from glaring at Nimai.
“I’ve got you,” Soft words and gentle hands, fingers light on Ever’s hip, curled to keep a hold on his shirt, the other around his waist. Then, louder, for the class, he added, “What’s this mean, kelpie?”
“It means nothing,” Nimai replied, voice tight with unease.
