Chapter Fourteen
Declan
“You’refretting,Everil,”Declansaid, as he settled gingerly onto the same chair he’d occupied when he’d asked the kelpie to remove Antonio’s curse.
Everil adjusted the angle of the teapot yet again.“I believe I’m justified, considering the call we received.”
“Ah.That was Mother’s idea.No one to follow us here, if Florian called from–where did he call from?”
“Cork.”Everil finally picked up the teapot, pouring two cups.“When you told grand stories when we were children of how notorious you would be, I didn’t think you serious.”
“Nor did I,” Declan admitted.
Everil sighed, little more than a soft exhale.“In the future, I would be grateful if you contacted mebeforethe matter escalated to shinigami assassins.I’d rather not spend a century attempting to nurture some new friendship.”
Not the most open, he’d told Antonio.Demonstrative in his own way, their Everil.Soft scolding and trusting Declan to not make a glib comment.Caring enough for his reproach to show to begin with.
“I would be loath to deprive you of my company and charm, old friend.”Declan settled further in the chair, as purposefully relaxed and loose as Everil was tense.“In my very meager defense, gossip across the veil isn’t the easiest feat to pull off.”
Easy, mannered conversation.They were fae.Pretending to not have been at the brink of death the day prior was nearly second nature.
“Even so, perhaps contact me at the first murder attempt next time.I would have come.”
It hadn’t occurred to him to run to Everil.A century ago, certainly.But he’d long overcome the impulse to flit to Everil for gossip or other silliness.Perhaps it did him ill, now.
“I’ll make sure to.Though, I hope there’s not a next time.”
“My thanks.”So soft.Relieved.And, with his eyes fixed on the tea preparation, Everil added, “It seems, I’m not the only one who would feel deprived of your company.For a man who professes hatred of the fae, your bond appears very … solicitous.”
And Declan?He couldn’t help it, the small, slow smile, wry though it was, at Everil’s probing words.“Do you disapprove?Now is the time to voice your concerns.Antonio’s not well pleased, when others do so in his presence.”
“Disapprove?”Everil echoed, stock-still in the way he grew when anxious.“Not as such.”
Declan extended a hand, if only to coax the man to move, to hand Declan his cup.It did the trick.
“As what, then?”
“Concern, perhaps.Forgive me, Declan, but I know too well that not all soulbonds are healthy.”Everil folded his hands on his lap, each motion deliberate.“You’ve been ill-treated too often.By those you trusted.And you’re very forgiving.”
Ah.
“It takes more than a bit of death to scare me off.”Hyacinth’s silk-smooth voice from decades past, amused and dismissive both, mingled with the memory of Antonio’s blunt, confused, “I’ll deal.Won’t say I won’t get really fucking wasted when it happens, but I’ll deal.”
Everil had notdealt.
“His hate is tied to fear.Not of me, ironically, seeing as how he’s unable to see glamour.But you weren’t the first time he faced near-death at the hands of a fae, my friend.Merely the most recent.It began when he was only a child.”
Everil failed to look repentant.Not that Declan expected him to.He had been well within his rights to curse Antonio as he did.Near any fae would see it thus.It would be unfair to hold that lack of regret against his friend.Only, Declan was a bit biased.And prone to forgiving those acting without malice in the aid of another.
“The Hollow’s aversion to our kind, however justified, seems likely to complicate matters for you both.”
Declan didn’t snap or growl or bristle.He sipped his tea, and took the moment he needed to find the proper words.Everil, meanwhile, added sugar to his own.And then quite a bit more sugar.
Finally, as gently as he could, Declan spoke.“My bond’s name is Antonio.Not ‘the Hollow.’He’s not a thing, separately or in a collective.”
“Your bond, Antonio.Of course.My apologies.”Everil’s tone remained mild.And perhaps it said something of the rebuilding trust between them that he didn’t flinch at the correction.“Will you tell me a little of how these past days have gone between you?Just to set my mind at ease.You may consider this an invitation to wax poetic about your Antonio.”
That was better.Declan felt himself relax, as the line of Everil’s shoulders softened in turn.
