“Better pace yourself, princess,” he says darkly, standing much too close for comfort. His deep voice thrums against my ear. “Wouldn’t want you stumbling off somewhere dangerous where accidents could happen. Especially after your miraculous survival today.”
Fuck, why does he smell so damn good? Like wood and amber and some kind of musk, maybe.
I fill my glass with a calm I don’t feel, then turn to glare at him with emberwine throbbing in my veins.
“Your concern for me is justsotouching,” I drawl. “But I don’t get into accidents—Icausethem.”
I see in his eyes that he knows what I mean. The memory of that Daemos Rawbond I strangled with his own severed hand passes between us.
Stark’s expression hardens dangerously, but I turn away before he can speak, leaving him there at the table.
Weaving through the crowd, I toss back the wine, ditch my glass, and head for the exit. My happy buzz is gone, burned awayby the veiled threat in Stark’s words. I’m shaky and out of place again amidst all this celebration.
Izabel and Venna will have to wait. I need to get the fuck out of here.
The wine was a mistake.Emberwine is always a mistake. I’m sure Last Night Meryn felt it was a great idea, but right now, I’m staring down into my plate of oats and imagining various bloody ways to murder her.
My headpounds. My eyeballs feel like they’re going to explode. I’ve managed a few slow bites, but nausea roils in my stomach. Even the smell of the bread is starting to get to me.
But the worst part of it is that despite the fogginess of most of last night’s memories, fuckingStarkthreatening my life is still crystal clear. So is my genius response.
Really great move, honestly, deciding to threaten him back like that. As if he doesn’t already want to kill me badly enough.
Someone at the next table drops their spoon into their empty bowl, and the clang of metal on porcelain is like someone shoving a dagger into my eye socket. I wince and hiss through the pain, rubbing my temple.
At least I’m not the only one regretting last night. Several of the other Rawbonds look like shit scraped off a horseshoe, which is a big deal for a bunch of people who generally care so much about appearances.
I can’t be marked as the weak one in the litter who can’t hold her emberwine ifeveryonelooks a little green.
“Mer,” Izabel groans, flopping into the seat on my left. “Help,” she croaks. Tomison sits down on the other side.
I grin. “You’re hungover and you still find the energy to braid your hair like that?” I jut my fork at the elaborately coiffed black coils.
“I’d find a way even if I didn’t have hands,” she replies instantly, shoving my shoulder gently before turning to her food.
We eat in silence for about three seconds before Tomison says, “Anyone else really feel like barfing right now?”
“Always, when I look at you,” Izabel replies instantly.
I shake my head. “Don’ttalk about barf right now. I feel like wet paper.”
“So,” Izabel says, leaning in. She speaks quietly, but not quietly enough. “About this mysterious castle-dwelling heartbreaker you mentioned last night…”
I nearly choke on my tea, setting the cup down too quickly to avoid a punishing clink that penetrates my eardrums and stabs my brain.
“Not here,” I hiss at her. Tomison is oblivious, but anyone could be listening.
Even a mild rumor could ruin everything. I can’t have other Rawbonds knowing. Honestly, I don’t even want Izabel and Venna to know. It was a mistake. A drunken,stupidslip.
I lean closer to whisper to Izabel. “Forget about it. I was just drunk and talking nonsense.”
Judging by the exaggerated raising of a single brow, Izabel very obviously does not believe me and will not let it go for long. But for now, she very graciously gives me space to finish my breakfast. Maybe the hangover has just robbed her of all the energy she would use for nosiness.
Or maybe she realizes she needs what energy reserves she still possesses to torment Tomison, because she turns away from me and immediately starts bickering with him.
I’m thankful that she’s willing to drop the topic for now, but my own mind isn’t as merciful. My thoughts immediately wander back to Killian.
The genuine concern on his face last night was almost too much to bear. I could’ve died without ever resolving—well, all ofthisbetween us. The thought makes me a little sick.
