Norman gave him a half-smile.“You know what, I think that sounds like a great idea.”
“The more you two love birds flirt, the more I want a drink,” I nipped and Norman’s tentacle landed on the back of my neck.One little sucker pricked me and I jostled.
“What the hell, Norm?I said?—”
He and Desmond both giggled.
Giggled!
Oh heavens, now they were becoming besties or some shit.
What the hell was wrong with Norman?
Did he not harbor the same caution the rest of us did?
Was he so aloof he could write off the damn Dark Fae Prince as nothing more than a...a...
I couldn’t say the word.Couldn’t even think it.Yes, I had agreed toapologize—which I hadn’t done yet—and yes, we’d had a brief moment where I didn’t want to rip the man’s throat out, but that did not make usfriends.
Until thattreatywas signed—if there truly was a treaty at all—technically, he was still an enemy.
An enemy who was traipsing with a Kraken down the stone pathways toward Cheeky’s, laughing like they were children.
And as I followed them into Cheeky’s, I steeled my resolve.Perhaps Violet was right.Perhaps people could change.Because as I watched Desmond slide a glass of dark ale toward Norman, his gaze catching mine once more, I wondered if he wasn’t spelling me at this very moment.
When I made it to the bar, I asked the bartender about the queen’s order.When Norm had finished his drink, the three of us followed them back to the cellars, and I immediately tensed at the sight.It was not a few barrels, but a whole shipment.
“There’s no way we’re dragging all these back to the chariot,” I said.
“Just minimize them,” Desmond said with a shrug.
“I can’t minimize thirty barrels,” I said, panic lacing my voice.“One or two is fine, but?—”
Desmond smirked, rolling up his plum shirtsleeves.“What’s the matter, Bane, magic stunted today?”
“No, I?—”
“Bane sucks at transfig,” Norman said and I tensed my jaw.
I turned slowly, glaring at him.His sunglasses sat atop his head like a crown, his cheeks pink from fresh drink, and his grin was as lopsided as his tentacles.
“Is that so?”Desmond said smoothly.
“I do not suck, I just need a bit more practice,” I bit.
Desmond chuckled.“Well, looks like you’re going to get all the practice you need here.Now.”
I scowled at him.I was seriously considering revoking my unsaid apology.
“What about you, Norm?Do you suck at transfig, too?”Desmond asked.
I watched the magic lace through him, pooling at his fingertips.I expected to see fire.He did say he could wield the element as well as earth, and as such, I expected to see the evidence of that.But what I saw was not fire, no.What I saw was something else.Something so familiar, but also startling.
Desmond did not call fire or earth to wield.
Instead, bright purple sparks danced from his fingertips.
“Your magic—” I said, my voice fading.“It’s—” I gulped.“Purple.”
