“Oh, please, I’ve climbed out of worse places,” she replied, a small smile in place as she made her way to the window. “Tell them whatever you want about tonight—that we had a quick tumble, that I left in the morning before you woke, that I screamed your name all night—just don’t let our display from earlier go to waste. I enjoyed that part, at least.”
Cason sighed. “I feel like a thank you isn’t good enough in this situation. You said mutual beneficence, and it seems like you needed something more than what I could give.”
Maeve paused after propping the window open. She turned, her lips pinched tight. “Actually, there’s one thing you can help me with.”
She stepped forward, her blue eyes locked on his. Slowly, her left arm lifted, fingers tracing his bicep to his palm. She curled her hand around his, pulling it toward her. Lifting it.
Ever so gently, she brought it just underneath her jaw and left his fingers tracing along her throat and curling into her dark blonde hair. Her pulse was steady, skin cool under his warm hand, and his thumb ran in patterns against her chin and down the front of her neck.
They stood for a moment, just staring. Despite her taller than average height, she still had to look up at him, which only made his hand feel more like a cradle against her face. She tensed slightly. Rose on her toes before settling.
Then Maeve lifted completely, leaning into his body as she placed a soft kiss against his lips. His eyes closed at the buzz that ran through his body. Quick. Simple. Everything, and yet not enough.
She pulled away, still hovering over his mouth as his eyes opened.
“Now we’re even,” she whispered, blinking as she stepped back.
He could only watch as she propped herself on the windowsill and slid through the opening into darkness. He stood still for a moment…
“Wait,” he blurted, hurrying to the open window—not to give her false hope that he’d changed his mind, but for her own protection.
He had been so stupid to let her go out in the dark when there were two men prowling about, maybe more that he didn’t know of. He didn’t want to be responsible for sending her to her death. Or worse. There was already one woman who was suffering in this village—there had to be more.
Cason tapped the sheath at his leg to give her a weapon, even if he was somewhat confident he had felt one on her before, but he frowned that it felt empty. He glanced down at where he had tucked the assassin’s blade earlier—the one he found at Gerrart’s home—but it was missing. Hadn’t he sheathed it while sitting at the bar? No, he’d been distracted by Maeve. Maybe in that distraction he had dropped it or left it on the counter. He’d have to check tomorrow morning.
Maeve didn’t respond to his voice, already gone into the night. When had she disappeared?Howhad she disappeared so quickly? Cason debated going after her, but for some reason he couldn’t fight the slight haze around his sun-blessed protection magic. Too many distractions tonight, and he had a job to do.
Protect the Prince of Severina from an assassin in Rooke. At least there were only a couple more days left in the Earth Festival before they could finally return home.
11
Distractions
Light mauve. That’s all Brela could stare at. Not the blade—herthrowing knife—she had swiped back from Valkip’s sheath when she had last kissed him. Not her neck bruises that had returned the minute she’d severed the connection to her illusion spell.
Just light mauve glowing back in her eyes. She’d have at most one hour until they faded back to their pale tint.
She should have had at least five hours and a deeper purple flecked in her gaze.
Elias had been just as surprised. He had poked his head over the stairs of their loft as Brela came home. His emerald eyes had widened before he grumbled something incoherent and then disappeared as he flopped back into bed.
Brela sat at the vanity and ducked under the table, digging the knife into a loose stone on the floor—well, it only looked loose to her. It was disguised with an illusion spell, and a strong one at that. Every month, Brela would use her magic to disguise all of their hiding spaces and give up a couple days of going out in public for that month-long illusion. It was the only way to keep their treasures safe.
And this hiding spot… this month, it was hers. Filled to the brim with every Veil artifact she had stolen back from her time as the Night Terror.
A measly little box. That’s all she had left of Valisea. Her home had once been lined with tapestries and vases and paintings. Windows had become murals for the thin Veil shards that were too small for jewelry, shining living purple and black light through the kitchen as her mother worked. She’d read in her father’s study, eyes always drawn to the obsidian jewels that lined the fireplace and adorned weapons mounted above the roaring flames.
Now all that Brela had left was a small box filled with trinkets, scraps of silk, and sands pulled from Calesevain Lake—with water so clear it used to sparkle in starlight. She never looked close enough to see the blood-stained grains that lined the vials in that box. She’d already cleaned the small bracelets and necklaces with shards no larger than her pinky nail of the red.
With careful precision, she unsheathed Night Carver and placed it on top of the silk scraps, wrapping the delicate fabrics around the blade. The shard in her chest pulsed even harder as she placed the box back in its nook and returned the stone.
“It’s just a few days,” she whispered, running her hand over her chest. “You’re safer here.”
Even if it was true, she hated the words. Walking into the Earth Festival without a disguise—with just a slip of fabric hiding the Veil shard embedded in her skin—was dangerous enough. Entering the dragon’s lair with weapons was going to be an even greater challenge. Carrying the Veil Scholar’s dagger inside—the very weapon she was now being hunted for—was an instant death wish.
Besides, she could trust Farrah and Elias. Worst case, a celvusa would knock down their front door to take it back, and Farrah and Elias had been instructed to let the shadow wolf take it without fighting back.
Brela ground her teeth at the thought of later hunting for that beast of liquid smoke and fire. She’d challenged it for the dagger once, and she’d do it again, but if she had to follow it back to Valisea? She hadn’t seen her home since…
