She didn’t mean anything by it. Bo knew she didn’t, deep in his gut. Knowing didn’t stop the heat from creeping up the back of his neck or keep his eyes from cutting away.
“He prefers Bo,” Everil said. Not sharp this time, just firm. Everil shifted closer as he spoke, no longer holding his own wrist in a death grip. Not touching. Just, nearly so. “Declan, are you satisfied?”
Bo’s fucking hero. He closed the gap between them, arm brushing arm. It was stupid, how grateful he was for the interjection and change of subject.
“Quite.” Declan’s smirk disappeared, at least. Oh, he smiled, but it was slight and probably more to do with Bo’s glare for hisfucking tonethan Bo’s first name. “I stand witness to oaths given in blood and binding, terms offered and agreed, true names and trust given.” His lips twitched. “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”
Everil laughed, a quiet huff of sound, accompanied by a small shake of his head. Helaughed. Yeah, he’d done it before, once, a lifetime ago with Bo’s hand on his neck and talking about how everyone was damaged.
It’d been bitter and frayed, threadbare. Nothing like the near soundless thing there in the living room. Bo would hear more of the genuine amusement, if he could figure out how.
There had to be more than one way to get a kelpie to giggle, for fuck’s sake.
“Pity. I was hoping for a cat,” Everil said, a smile still playing at the edges of his lips. “Well, we’ll make do. Apparently, Bo is responsible for taking her for walks.”
“He better.” Talia’s glamour settled back into place. She beamed at Bo and fell back into her chair. “Declan can come too.”
“Declan needs to wear a stupid hat if we’re taking him anywhere. Cat ears, maybe.” Bo made a face, grumbling without any real heat. He pressed his arm against Everil’s in the gentlest of nudges.
And Everil … didn’t shy or freeze. He breathed in, slow and steady, and stayed where he was.
Itmeantsomething. Like: Bo read far too fucking much into Everil taking in some air and not treating him as if he had the plague. Shit people did when they didn’t want to risk asphyxiation. That’s what it fucking meant.
“As lovely as that sounds,” Declan said, smiling at Talia and interrupting Bo’s spiraling thoughts, “I’ve an old friend to intercept for a wee bit while the three of you are on your way. Perhaps on your next adventure to this world.”
“We can do that,” said Talia. “With hats.”
“Would you be so kind as to escort me back?” the sluagh asked. “We can discuss the hats.”
“Declan,” Everil interrupted, the faintest note of hesitance in his voice. Declan looked back at him, an eyebrow arched. “We’ll speak soon. Thank you.”
Bo watched Declan falter at Everil’s thanks, his smiling fading. He studied Everil, head tipped to the side. A bird of prey, no matter how human he looked.
“Thank you for trusting me, my friend,” Declan said at last, dark smile soft. His hand twitched, as if to reach out, but he hooked a thumb in a form fitting pocket instead. “Stay safe. I will see you soon.”
So maybe, possibly, Bo could forgive the shithead smirk. Declan wasn’t coming with them, as evidenced by his attention turning to Talia. He spoke to her like a person and obviously cared about Everil, and it left Bo feeling somewhat generously towards him.
“I’m going to need to hide most of my hoodies, aren’t I?” Bo asked softly, daring a glance up at Everil.
The other man didn’t answer immediately, watching Declan and Talia with a small, nearly invisible smile. He appeared almost happy, watching the two of them head up the stairs, gaze following them with that lingering look, soft as Declan’s voice had been.
Everil watched Declan, and Bo watched Everil smile, listened to his gentle, “I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ve already sworn them to her.”
How fucking unfair. From how Bo’d heard it, Declan didn’t have a bond. Everil was obviously fond of him, the man who sidestepped his complaints with what Bo decidedwas a very fucking fae air, and he somehow still got stuck with roughshod Bo and fuckface Nimai.
“A couple,” Bo countered, grinning. “I swore a couple. They just might need to rotate.”
Everil looked to Bo, then. A brief glance of freckles and considering, dark eyes, and then he turned his attention back to the window. Hands still loose at his side, instead of held tight.
Robin sometimes looked like a deer in headlights. Everil apparently sometimes stood like one.
“I need to visit the river before we depart.” Everil kept his gaze on the window. Bo itched to lean in and put his forehead against Everil’s shoulder as he had before. “You’re welcome to stay here, of course. But if you desire to see a kelpie in truth, you may join me.”
The fucking phantom stallion, always spotted by the goddamn river.
Bo liked to believe he’d have said no if it felt like an obligation. And, fuck, maybe he would have. But Everil held open that door and didn’t feel as if he dreaded the idea. The guy who’d talked to Bo about refreshments in a way that Bo (now) knew meant ‘leave, please’ invited him along. And Bo would’ve sworn that he meant it. That there was a cool thread ofwelcome,ice crisp and curious, there beneath the surface.
“That would be fucking awesome,” Bo agreed, no little amount of pleasure in his voice. “I’d love to.”
