Maeve peeked at the group behind Briseis again. Ah, so not parents. New pupils.
The new manticore boldly met her gaze, his slitted pupils dilating. A cocky grin kicked up one side of his split lip.
“I’d be happy to,” she found herself saying.
“Oh, thank you so much!” Briseis sighed in relief. “We can’t offer you a larger stipend, but—”
Maeve waved away her concerns. “No need. I’m happy to help, and it will keep me busy. Give me a week to draw up some lessons.”
Cheers rang out, and Maeve was quickly subsumed into the group. Her hand disappeared into many other much larger ones as it was pumped, shaken, and kissed. She learned quite a few names, and it didn’t pass her notice that many of the prospective students were men.
No doubt single men.
How interesting.
There were two harpies as well, Maritza and Andreen, the former of whom looked at Maeve as hungrily as the orc men.
The last to greet her was the manticore.
“And this is Diar, one of Kiri’s brothers.”
Fluttering his massive wings, Diar grinned, showing off his many sharp teeth. “Why would my brother ever run from you?” he purred, whiskers tickling the back of her hand as he bent to kiss it.
Why indeed?“I haven’t the faintest idea. Please assure him I don’t bite.”
Diar’s lips curled into a sultry smile, and he opened his fanged mouth—no doubt with a quip about howhewouldn’t mind biting—when Briseis swooped in to herd them all out of the school so she could lock up.
This distraction and out were both reliefs. Maeve was used to flirts—in fact, in the past, that’s who she’d sought out attention from. She understood the game and knew how to win. Diar’s cocksure grin and arrogant air were nothing new; she could handle them. And yet, the sight of it filled her with…coolness. She didn’t care for it this time around.
Maeve had always been careful when choosing her liaisons.Sure, she’d flirt with anyone for a bit of fun, but when it came to allowing someone in close, to touch her, there she was more selective. Feelings mustn’t ever be in danger—even if many men said they were game for such an arrangement, they were often lying to themselves. She’d been good at spotting the signs of a potential partner, as well as when it was time to extricate herself.
The one time she hadn’t, the one time she’d allowedherselffeelings and foolishly thought them returned, it’d spelled disaster at Queen Angharad. She was still living with the consequences.
It took a little time and effort, but Maeve finally escaped the group. She had more than a few offers to escort her home, but she assured them she was perfectly safe in the middle of the afternoon.
Diar, however, seemed determined to make mischief. Raising one of his big paws in farewell, he called, “I’ll be sure to tell Soren all about your class.”
Maeve kept her expression neutral, waving to the group before heading down the path for home, skirts swishing around her legs.
What did it matter really if Soren knew? They hadn’t even properly met, and he seemed determined to keep it that way.
Even if the fallen feather meant something, surely his absence meant more.
It wasn’t worth thinking about. She could have her fun elsewhere. And before any of that, she had work to do—a lesson plan and finding out if Sorcha had written that letter to Lady Aislinn.
6
Despite his best efforts to keep busy—and his head down—Soren couldn’t avoid the situation forever. He gave it a valiant effort, driven half-mad by his impatient, snarlingturuk, but in the end, Diar found him with the news that changed everything.
Diar had told him about Miss Maeve holding evening classes for adults when it was proposed the previous week. Although he’d said it with a smug expression Soren wanted to punch right off his face, Soren had shored up his patience, nodded, and done nothing with the information.
What was there to do, anyway? Offering to teach additional classes was commendable.
For a week, he dodged Diar and his needling. “All the single men will be going,”he’d say.“Are you really going to let them all stare at your kigara like that?”
Gritting his fangs, Soren hadn’t bothered to reply. What Miss Maeve did—and with whom—was none of his business. He’d no right to have an opinion about it.
As the day of the first class drew closer, Danann turnedits speculation away from Soren and his flight to instead ponder over Miss Maeve’s lessons. There was excitement about the opportunity, not just from all the single men (and Maritza) looking to flirt, but to learn Eirean. It felt like another momentous step in integrating with the humans of the Darrowlands.
