My brows pulled together. “Do I?”
She tilted her head, feigning seriousness. “You smell like worry, wine, and, for some odd reason, a feral beast.”
I lowered my head until my lips almost brushed her ear. “Careful, Minx. Keep talking like that, and I’ll show you exactly how feral I can be.”
Her breath caught, and I didn’t miss it.
While her mouth twitched upward, I lifted my eyebrows. “I don’t smell like that?—”
“You do.” Her smile bloomed fully, and there was nothing lovelier than that.
Fates, it was ridiculous how fast relief could flood through me just to have her teasing me. My minx was back.
“You’ve been unconscious for hours, and the first thing you say to me is that I smell.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad smell.” Her eyes slid closed again, her lashes trembling.
I narrowed my gaze on her face. “You’re lucky you’re still recovering.”
Her lips twitched. “Lucky, am I?”
“Yes. Because otherwise, I’d be proving you wrong about that smell right now.”
One pale brow arched without her opening her eyes. “By…bathing?”
“By other means entirely.”
The faint shiver that went through her told me she’d caught my meaning.
Behind me, Meren made a small, deliberate noise in her throat. “If you’re done threatening each other about questionable hygiene…”
Isi’s eyes opened again, a gleam of challenge in them. “Go, Trew. I’ll be alright without you.”
That was debatable.
I leaned down again until my face was inches from hers, keeping my voice low enough that only she could hear. “I’ll be back soon.”
Before she could reply, I kissed her. Her lips softened under mine, and the smallest sound escaped her throat. I pulled back far enough to see her eyes wide open now, color suffusing in her cheeks.
Meren stared at us, her brows high, her assistant frozen in place with linens clutched to her chest.
I straightened, my gaze lingering on Isi’s mouth. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”
She grumbled, but her fingers twitched toward mine, brushing them once before I stepped away.
The sweet scent of her still clung to me as I left the ward. It stayed in my lungs and in my blood as I strode through the dimly lit corridors.
Several people called out my name, a clerk holding a parchment, a guard eager to give me a report. I didn’t slow, only lifted my hand and told them I’d attend to them later. Then the only sound was my boots pounding the stone, the soft crackle of my magic in the air.
The southern cells lay deep in the castle’s gut, down two flights of narrow stairs and behind a set of iron-banded doors that only opened to my magic and that of a few trusted guards. The corridor beyond smelled of cold stone and the faint tang of fear.
Four guards straightened when I approached Maddox’s cell.
One stiffened, his gaze meeting mine. “Sire?—”
I didn’t break stride. My magic brushed them aside like a gust of wind, strong enough to make them step backward.
The heavy door creaked open under my hand. Maddox sat on a low bench against the far wall, his shoulders hunched, his hair shadowing his eyes. He looked up when I entered, and the flicker in his gaze looked too much like satisfaction.
