Still, reeking or not, his keen grey eyes miss nothing.
“And who is she, to you?”
“Who says she’s anything? Or that she’s asheat all?”
Pytri chuckles. “My eyes may not be what they once were, but I caught a glimpse of her fleeing the tavern, and I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen a backside like that on a—”
“Enough.”
I don’t want to think about the witch’s backside. I don’t want to think about any part of her. Not her golden curls or her emerald eyes. Not the curve of her full lips or the outline of her lush figure beneath her—
“Oh,” Pytri says, interrupting that train of thought and sounding like he’s just uncovered a juicy morsel of gossip. “So she’s your—”
“Enough,” I say again, rounding on him. “Who she is to me is none of your—”
“Alright. Alright.” He raises his hands in surrender. “At least tell me if this little hiccup is going to derail your plans to attend the fae queen’s gathering.”
“That’s also none of your business,” I grumble, mind too much a tangle to even contemplate it.
What’s some fae monarch’s game in the face of what just happened?
What care could I have for any of it when I’ve just met my…
She doesn’t want you, a voice of sanity somewhere deep in the back of my mind chides.It changes nothing.
“Callum,” Pytri says. “If you’re not going to—”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I snap at him, and the unintentional honesty of the words takes my breath away.
It seems to resonate with Pytri as well, because he ceases his questioning.
Around us, the night presses close. The stars above, the gentle glow of the Veil, the deep darkness of the forest.
Peaceful. This realm has always been so damned peaceful.
Not where I would have expected to have my entire existence destroyed and remade, the casual violence of it so at odds with the beauty of the realm around me.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I say again, more quietly this time.
Pytri lays a hand on my shoulder. “Well, I hope you figure it out in the next three days, friend.”
I shrug him off. “I always figure it out, don’t I?”
“Aye,” he says with a huffed laugh. “That you do.”
It seems to be enough of a goodbye, because Pytri turns to head back toward the tavern, where he’ll no doubt be well-supplied with admirers for the rest of the evening.
Alone with nothing but the darkness for company and the faint pulsing of the Veil ahead, I let out a long breath.
It’s time to go.
My mate isn’t coming back for me, and standing here feeling sorry for myself won’t do anything to get me closer to her.
Do I want to get closer to her?
Do I want to find her?
Logic screams it would be a mistake, but the ache in my chest, my bones, my very soul whispers temptation.
