“For the sake of avoiding Eleanor’s nagging.” Finnian continued undoing the buttons, making it to his navel.
Several necklaces dangled around his neck—a dark gemstone with blood-red spots, another that was metallic and adorned with golden-brown blotches, and a teal pendant that looked as if it had been dug up from deep within the sea. They rested between the smooth contours of his pecs.
Finnian’s look was disheveled, but in an arousing way Cassian had never found appealing before.
Cassian noted how Finnian’s arms were now relaxed down at his sides. Silence had settled between them, prompting him to lift his eyes, meeting Finnian’s twinkling green gaze, alight with happiness. The slyness of his smirk and the flicker of his dimples caught in Cassian’s stomach.
A flush rose on his cheeks and he cleared his throat, averting his gaze to the cast iron pot on the wood stove. “Your home. It is comforting.Eclectic.”
“Is that a sophisticated way of sayingtoo cluttered for my taste?” Finnian strolled past him, untucking his shirt from his waistline. There was a playfulness caressing his tone, a comfort in his character that Cassian had only caught glimpses of in the past. It was the complete opposite of the pragmatic, hardheaded version he normally presented.
Cassian pocketed his hands, a light smile tugging on his lips. “Perhaps a little too cluttered, but I find the quality endearing.”
“What other qualities of mine do you find joy in?” Finnian glanced over his shoulder as he gathered the cup and the percolator.
Cassian watched him place them in the washbasin. “That you are a mage and choose to hand wash your dishes.”
Finnian spun around, scratching at his nape with a sheepish look. “I used to help Naia in the kitchen when I was younger. Because I didn’t want Mira to know about my magic, I refrained from using it. The act is nostalgic, I suppose.”
The mention of Naia wrung Cassian’s gut. It was a reminder of the future to come—the mark he would leave on her in the upcoming years. She’d be cursed to live in a land with Mira. The cruelty of it outweighed the bigger picture, something Cassian had to keep in the back of his mind. In the end, Naia would bear a demigod child of the Himura bloodline, and he would use it to end Ruelle once and for all.
“Ah.” He kept his response short, countering the nagging need to confess everything to Finnian.
They stared at each other for a moment.
Finnian regarded him with soft eyes and a curve to his mouth. It made Cassian’s skin kindle and his eyes flit around,fidgeting with his fingers inside of his pockets. If Finnian kept looking at him that way, he wasn’t sure what he’d end up doing.
“I hear the mortals are erecting altars and temples across the western lands in honor of the High Goddess of War and the High Goddess of Peace,” Finnian said, regarding the conflict.
“Mortals tend to show their devotion when they are in need of something.”
“I don’t believe that only applies to mortals.” Finnian crossed his arms. “Deities and mages can be quite vexing as well.”
“You seem to speak from experience.” Cassian raised his eyebrows, pinpointing the tension in Finnian’s shoulders.
“It appears the occupation of a leader is accompanied by a never-ending to-do list. Itisrather annoying.” He scowled.
Cassian cracked a genuine grin. “Do tell.”
“I’ll make tea. Have a seat.” Finnian pointed to the kitchen table before moving across the kitchen to the wood stove. “What kind do you prefer?” He crouched beside it and opened the side door.
With the snap of his fingers, a flame sparked on his fingertip. He reached inside the box and lit the logs.
He’d grown stronger since the last time they were together. Cassian distinctly recalled Finnian speaking an incantation to perform the same spell. Now, he could do it without uttering anything.
Cassian glided to one of the wooden chairs, unbuttoned his tailcoat, and gently sat, hoping the fragile legs of the furniture wouldn’t snap. “I enjoy lavender or lemon.”
Finnian held a hand up and one of the glass jars on the shelf above the washbasin floated into his palm. “Lemon balm?”
“Yes, please.” Cassian twisted his head to survey the rows of jars crammed full of dried herbs. “Do you enjoy tea?”
With a slow swivel of his wrist, the teakettle filled with water. He positioned it over the flame on the stove. “I prefer coffee, but Eleanor is an avid tea drinker. I keep a stock on hand for her.”
He spoke of the apprentice as if she were a close friend. Was that all there was to it?
“It sounds like you care for her,” Cassian murmured, and then held his breath.
Finnian pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat. Lounging back, he extended his legs, and his shin brushed the side of Cassian’s ankle. A spark of heat climbed up Cassian’s inner thigh. “I care for many people.”
