“Izolda has Aodhan.”
“What about Ilya? Who does he have?”
“Imogen and Vance. Your father suggested they remain in Glace.”
“You’ve spoken with my father?”
“Through Imogen last night. He’s very excited to see you, but no one more than your mother.”
Isla lowers her lashes and slides her lips.
“Go celebrate your birthday with them.”
Her lids flick up, and then her spine bows. “How did you know that my birthday was coming up?”
“I sent your parents a gift the day you were born.” I swallow. “Little did I know they’d send me one back twenty-five years later.”
She ties her arms around my neck, craning her neck some more. “You think I’m a gift?”
“Depends on the day, but generally, yes.”
She laughs.
I lower my head until our foreheads meet. “You’re the most precious gift I’ve ever had the pleasure of unwrapping.”
“Admit it. You secretly meet with Izolda’s favorite author—the Countess of Smut—and feed her the lines spoken by her male heroes.”
“You got me.” Her jest causes my mind to stir as she kisses me.
I feel like I’m missing something.
Something important.
I mentally pull at strings, which fray when her fingers journey south and grip me through my pants. As she transforms flesh to stone with the steady roll of her palm, she extinguishes what little is left of my cognitive ability.
All the more reason she must depart, but, Gods, how will I survive without her? I’m about to rescind my suggestion that she leave when my brain whirs back to life, drifting over Glace’s many tribulations. I need to put order in my kingdom before it collapses over me and my legacy.
Isla may not hunger for a crown or a new empire, but if I lost both, what would be left of me to admire?
To desire?
To love?
***
When she leaves the following morning with Lachlano, after making me swear to keep my necklace on at all times, I tell myself it’s for the best. Yet as the hours stretch on, her absence presses in on me, wrapping around my rib cage like expanding ice.
That very night, I board my train with Izolda and Aodhan. We travel to West Sheva to join our brother and to visit Yuri, who’s yet to wake, as well as each and every shaken townsfolk to reassure them that punishment will be meted out.
Colm and Fionn—the mated pair Lorcan sent over—join us on the ride home with a report that no sleighs, sleigh tracks, or pale-haired females have been spotted, but that Crows are flying over Garaglace and Voshna day and night.
The return trip is a whirlwind. Too soon, I’m back in my empty castle.
By day five of Isla’s absence, I prowl her bedchamber like some loon. I even visit her closet, hoping for a whiff of her fragrance, but her clothes either smell laundered or new. I sink my hands into my hair and drop onto the upholstered pouf in her walk-in closet. I must be going mad, because I hear faint voices.
I need sleep.
I needher.
