“Sex?”
Laughter swells in my chest then dissipates before it can escape. “Well, yes and no.” With a sigh, I sit up and scoot back so that I’m leaning against the headboard. “I mean, sometimes I wish I didn’t have to answer to advisors and councilors, and the whole damn kingdom.I wish I could… I don’t know. Travel the realm or at least see something other than this castle. I wish I was free to fall in love.”
Callum goes still, just as he’s about to slip his shirt on. “You’re in love with me?”
“Don’t be daft.” I become suddenly interested in the bedcovers, sliding my hand over the duvet. Love is a fickle concept, but perhaps I’m in love with the idea of him. Not that it matters. I lift my head to him again. “It was a hypothetical statement. You know I have other lovers.”
To my surprise, he laughs. His body language is relaxed once more.
A series of steady knocks resound outside the door. “Sir Callum Ferrer,” Tiernan says firmly.
“Coming, Major Kilkenny!” Callum hears his own unfortunate word choice and cringes, sending me into a fit of laughter.
Now fully dressed, he fastens his sword belt around his waist again and heads to the door. “Before I go,” he says, keeping his voice down, “I know you have other trysts, yet when the mood strikes, it’s me you usually call for. That must mean something.”
I scoff. He’s wrong. “You better get back to your post.”
It doesn’t mean anything, I internally chant to myself. He’s wrong. He’s so wrong.
Images of roaring infernos burn at the back of my mind as wakefulness pulls me from my dreams in the morning. My amulet is hot—a remnant of my overactive imagination, no doubt.
Gods, I’d rather dream about Callum all night than about untamed flames.
The sun has barely made its appearance, but I lift my book of fairytales from the side table and sit in front of my fireplace. It would be incredible to be a Skinchanger—to morph my features and voice, to become anyone or anything. According to lore, some Skinchangers spent their days as animals, while others made a habit of impersonating other mortals or creating an alter ego.
I find my page and dive into the story of the All-Knowing Skinchanger.
A witch hired an old man to stir her cauldron for a year. Day after day and night after night, the man stirred and stirred and stirred, never asking what lay within. A younger apprentice was hired to assist the old man, but one night, both fell asleep and a passerby, desperate for a drink, consumed the potion within. The passerby obtained almost as much knowledge as even the gods possessed. But he’d doomed himself to being hunted for all eternity by the witch who so desperately wanted this knowledge.
The man became a Skinchanger, disguising himself as a handsome man to distract the witch. But once she became aware of his deception, he transformed into a bird, then?—
As I’m about to get to the interesting parts, there’s a knock on my door. “Lady Alys is here to see you,” Callum calls out.
My brows furrow and I sit up, putting my book aside. “Come in, Alys.”
Alys enters, her smile bright against her mahogany skin. How is she so cheerful so early in the morning?
I’ve brought you something,” she says as I get to my feet.
She holds out a small drawstring satchel and I take it. The weight of it, heavier than I expected, settles in the palm of my hand. Pulling the bag open, I peer inside at a clay lid of sorts. “A jar?”
I open the lid and hold the jar up to my nose, inhaling. The scent is familiar—floral notes with something bitter. Fertility suppressant.
“It’s your brew, pulverized into a powder,” says Alys. “Now you don’t have to rely on me bringing it to you. Just one pinch.” She pinches the air delicately with her thumb and index finger to demonstrate.
Sealing the jar and the satchel again, I clutch it in both hands and nod.
“You know, Carys,” she says. “You have the power to alter your limitations. You don’t have to settle.”
I stare at her as though she’s sprouted another pair of arms. “We both know that’s not true. Rules are rules. Laws are laws. It’s been that way since the dawn of time. The Council holds the power.”
“For now. Change is needed, and it can start with you. Dear one, you break the rules all the time.” She smirks.
“Oh, do I? How?”
Laughter shakes some of her salt-and-pepper hair free from the pile atop her head. “Well one example is the very reason I’m ensuring you take that fertility suppressant.”
I roll my eyes.
