“Define ‘squarish’?” Aodhan asks.
I shrug. “It was geometric. Could have had more sides than just four.”
Aodhan’s gaze flicks sideways toward Konstantin, who sits up, as though my description has piqued his interest. He does strike me as an observer, so perhaps he, too, would know the ring.
“What color was it?” Aodhan asks.
I frown. “It was a diamond.”
“Diamonds come in different colors.”
I screw my lips. “It wasn’t pink like my mother’s. Or black. Definitely clear.”
“White?” Aodhan asks.
“Probably, but everything had sort of a bluish tint to it.” Save for the moon-faced woman with the spill of white hair. I give my head a small shake to dispel the sight of her empty eyes. Skies, those were going to haunt me. Since they’re all watching me, I add, “It was night.”
Actually, they’re not all watching me. Aodhan is staring very steadily at Konstantin, who looks about ready to lose his shit.
“Does it belong to the Zaslofskys?” My hesitant query is met with a very loud snort from Aodhan.
“Sorry,” the dark-haired Crow coughs as though trying to dissimulate a laugh with some throat clearing. But then his neck tips back, and he’s hooting.
“Leave!” Konstantin commands, as still and pale as an ice carving. As I glance at the door, the Ice King growls, “Not you, Miss Ríhbiadh. I was talking to the buffoon beside me.”
“Oh, Mórrígan, this is too good.” Aodhan rubs his palms together. “Just too good.”
“Can I please be told which enemy of yours is to be my mate?” I ask, rather alarmed, for why would Aodhan be getting such a kick out of Konstantin’s visceral reaction?
“Can I just stay until you tell her?” Aodhan thumbs his curved lips. “Please? Then I swear that I will depart.”
“Your betrothed isn’t one of my enemies,” Konstantin gripes, conceding to Aodhan’s appeal.
Except the Ice King doesn’t have that many friends, does he? He’d mentioned no one would come looking for him. But Aodhan had, and so had?—
My palms turn clammy as I contemplate the very real possibility that my mate is some huge, terrifying bear of a Faerie nicknamed the Flesher. The more I turn the possibility over in my mind, the more sense it makes. After all, Konstantin is attached to Salom. He’d be devastated if I took him back to Luce with me.
“Son of a sprite, Isles,” Lachlano murmurs. He must’ve drawn the same conclusion.
I linger on the door Salom passed through moments ago. “I know…”
“Planning on running away?” Aodhan asks through quirked lips. “Don’t blame you.”
“No, I was planning on going after…” The purpling complexion of the king perplexes me so deeply that Salom’s name mutates into a hum.
“Methinks Isla has her sights set on handsome Salom.” Aodhan’s stage-whisper wrinkles my nose, because the general isnothandsome.
The thought strikes me as odd. Shouldn’t I be riveted by my mate, no matter his age or appearance?
“It’s not my fucking general you marry,” Konstantin snaps, which has Aodhan hooting some more.
The Crow doesn’t even stop after Konstantin pins him to the wall with a flare of magic. What could be causing him such hila?—
Oh.
Oh.
I blink at the Ice King, whose stare is so bladed I feel it slicing into me. “You?”
