“InVerith?”
Quentin’s brows shot up. “You didn’t hear?”
Alba shook her head, eyes wide. “No. No, we haven’t heard anything from Verith in months. Trade is still happening, but not like it used to, and no information reaches us. We were growing worried—until seeing you, just now.”
Quentin shut his eyes. What was happening to this kingdom? Mariah’s Choosing was supposed to spark a rise of much-needed change, not send the realm into chaos.
It hurt him that none of it was her fault. Mariah was fighting, doing everything she could. But entrenched power was always more enduring than deserving strength.
“You and Leandro need to be careful,” Quentin said softly. “I know Mariah appreciates your loyalty. But please, don’t take any risks.”
Alba smiled sadly. “We will be fine, Quentin,” she said. “We haven’t lasted this long in this kingdom by not being smart.” Motherly concern crept into her expression. “How are my boys? I do hope I’ll get to see them again soon.”
“They’re all right,” Quentin answered. “Sebastian is in Vatha, and Matheo is in Leuxrith with Mariah.”
She blinked in surprise. “Goddess,” she breathed. “The queen has you spread out all across the continent, doesn’t she? What are you looking for?”
Quentin sighed, turning back to the bay. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “But I guess we’ll know it when we find it.”
Quentin stoodin front of the door, a pair of scissors in his hand. He wasn’t quite sure what to do next.
Alba and Leandro gave him the contact of a merchant who could take them to the Kizar Islands, then he took the best damnshower of his life. The dinner that had followed had been equally as incredible, with roasted summer vegetables and soft, buttery fish.
Despite their hosts’ friendly chatter, Delaynie had remained quiet and subdued through all of it. For some reason, it bothered him more now than it ever had on the road. It was like all her bite had left, any hint of her inner fire snuffed out.
He lifted his chin, resolve settling in him, and knocked on the door.
There was a moment’s pause before he heard soft footsteps on the other side. It swung open, revealing a Delaynie dressed in a cream nightgown, auburn hair clean and unbound around her shoulders.
Gods, he tried to fight the way his breath caught in his throat. The way his heart started to beat faster beneath his ribs. The way he inhaled, desperate for a trace of her sweet scent.
He swallowed. Lifting his hand, the scissors resting on his palm, he gave her a sheepish smile.
“It’s time to take out my stitches. Care to help?”
Delaynie’s gaze dropped from his face to the scissors. Her expression remained empty, passive. So unlike her that it cooled the heat in his veins.
She nodded. “Okay.”
Her room was much like his—simple, nothing more than a bedroom and a small bathing chamber, but comfortable. The window was thrown open to allow in the coastal breeze, and a small pile of clothes was folded neatly on an armchair in the corner.
Quentin took a few steps into the room before pausing, turning back to her. “Where do you want me?”
She closed the door. A small scowl of thought twisted her brow, and it filled him with wild, momentary relief.
His little wolf was still in there somewhere.
“Sit there. On the bed.”
Quentin did as she asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress. It dipped behind him and he fought every instinct that begged him to turn. Delaynie tapped him lightly on his shoulder.
“Scissors, please.” A pause. “And…and I need you to take off your shirt.”
Heat flooded him again as he handed her the scissors, not even bothering to hide his smirk as he smoothly pulled his shirt over his head. He balled it up and discarded it on the floor. He just knew that a furious red stain filled her cheeks, that she hadn’t tripped over her words on purpose.
Why did he love being able to rattle her so easily?
You know why. He batted the thought away. Not the time; not when she was still so subdued.
