Keely gently pulled her hand out of Tor’s, feeling his body stiffen beside hers and then slump with a resigned sigh.
He was about to step away, but she grabbed his arms and pulled him to face her. “Tor.”
His body turned toward her, but his eyes didn’t meet hers.
“Tor, I want to tell you something.”
He finally raised his dark eyes to hers. “What?”
“This.” She went up on her toes, still gripping his arms, and pressed her lips against his.
His breath released in a groan and she pushed herself closer, sliding her arms around his neck. A long moment passed, and then his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her up his body, and he kissed her back.
All she knew was his scent, his warmth, the way he sipped and tasted at her mouth, and she almost forgot his friends were watching until Rafe commented wryly, “I wish Mathos was here. He’d know exactly what to say.”
The Hawks chuckled, and Tor and Keely broke apart but stayed holding each other for a moment, looking at each other, his hands firm on her back. “Thank you,” he whispered, too softly for his friends to hear.
She smiled up at him and threaded her fingers back through his as they made their way to two open seats at the long table.
Tor pulled a couple of plates in front of them, and they grabbed freshly baked scones, slathering them with pats of yellow butter and big dollops of gleaming blackberry jam and fresh cream.
The food was delicious, but the atmosphere in the room slowly returned to the frosty hostility they’d walked into.
Keely looked between Daena and the others, remembering Rafe’s curt tone when he mentioned the Nephilim the day before. “What’s going on?”
Val scowled at Daena. “Jos and I went down to check on the Wraiths’ camp yesterday. We flew over a couple of times, saw that the camp had been badly decimated by the fire before the rain started but that there were still men living there. Eventually one of them approached the squad at the top of the ridge, carrying a white flag. The whole camp surrendered.”
Jos took over the story. “They had been abandoned by Andred and the Wraiths, who took the few boats they had prepared and left them all to die in the fire.”
“Fucking Andred,” Tor muttered beside her.
“Yes,” Rafe agreed. “There wasn’t time to douse the flames or make a firebreak. They survived by standing in the lake. It was icy cold, far too cold to stand in. At least half of them died, and the rest were suffering from severe exposure. The few supplies that Andred left were destroyed. They had nowhere to live, nothing to eat, all of them badly weakened, so they surrendered.”
“They’re all here?” Keely asked, casting a worried glance toward Alanna. An entire barracks full of men taught to hate the Verturian princess was hardly reassuring.
“Yes and no,” Val replied. “We called in extra forces from nearby barracks to help—the reivers have been taken to the local magistrat, the soldiers who abandoned their posts have been sent back to their regiments, whether Verturian or Brythorian, and in the end, only a handful were from Staith.”
“But how did you know where to send them?” she asked.
Val tipped his head toward Daena. “Truth seeker.”
“If we can trust her,” Rafe muttered.
Val snorted rudely. “We can’t.”
“Didn’t you just say that she’s been helping?” Tor asked. “And she helped us get free, too.”
“Did she though? Or did she use you to get out?” Rafe asked in a voice heavy with suspicion.
Keely frowned. Despite her own initial concerns, Daena had seemed genuinely desperate to get away. “Why would she want help to escape unless she was a prisoner?”
Rafe shook his head. “This is Ramiel’s niece. Her family thought she’d died in a fire, but she never bothered to let them know she was still alive. More importantly, she is also Andred’s wife—the remaining soldiers were only too glad to tell us all about how she lived with him and helped him set up the camp.”
Bard. Keely spun to stare at Daena, taking in her pale face, her wide, fearful eyes and the red flush creeping up her neck.
“I told you already that I am not Andred’s wife.” Daena let out an aggrieved huff. “If you have to know, he was extremely clear that he would never marry me.”
“But you were still working for him,” Keely said slowly, remembering the dark moments in Andred’s tent. “You tried to convince Tor that I was responsible for Ravenstone.”
