Florian opened the balcony doors, letting in a sigh of cool night air that swept the curtains. Grimlocke was situated at the top of a hill on the northern end of Stormhaven, providing spectacular views of the city and the sea beyond. Past the swirling trails of a hundred chimneys, some persevering stars were still visible, though the moon was barely a sliver. He had never taken real notice of its phases, not until he met Knox. Now he always seemed to know whether it was waxing or waning, if not by the night sky, then judging by Knox’s moods. Of course he was happiest when the sky was all but clear, but there was always a shift in him when the moon began to wax once more, as it was tonight.
His eyes fell to the coast, tasting the air for the scent of the open waters. The imagination of briny sea spray on his face set him at ease, even though he considered that it had no right to. He knew better than most how quickly the winds could turn.
A loud caw startled him, and Florian straightened to see a familiar raven perched on the railing, looking about as indignant as a bird could achieve.
“Thaddeus,” Florian greeted him before catching sight of the roll of parchment.
The messenger extended his leg to him readily.
“Thank you,” he said absently as he unrolled Keira’s message.
He was reading the lines hastily, nearly to the end when Thaddeus cawed impatiently, pecking at his arm in search of a reward.
Florian swatted the bird away. “Quiet!” he hissed. “You’ll wake the house. I don’t have any food!”
Thaddeus let out an especially loud squawk before soaring off the balcony to scavenge something unsavory to feast on, no doubt.
“What is that cursed bird doing back here?” Knox’s voice sounded grumpily behind him.
Florian turned to find him leaning against the doorframe. In the moonlight, Knox’s eyes shone silver, almost metallic, an utterly bewitching effect. His brown hair was still mussed from sleep, falling wildly over one half of his face. Florian traced the ink patterned up his arms as they curved artfully around the lean, corded muscle all the way to his shoulders. As he ran out of room on his arms, the tattoos were beginning to spread across his body as well. His eyes lingered on Knox’s chest, on the inked harpy just below his collarbone. Florian could almost feel the mirroring mark on his own skin.
“I’m sorry. I tried to let you sleep.”
Knox shook his head, stepping out into the night. His eyes flicked up to the moon, but looked away quickly, turning his back to it as if it were an unwelcome, though unavoidable voyeur. He crossed his arms.
Florian stepped toward him, rubbing his hands up Knox’s tense shoulders. The night was cool after all, and his skin was already developing a layer of chill.
“Why don’t we go back to bed?”
Knox said nothing, though Florian could still sense his resistance. He took another step forward, closing whatever distance remained between them. This close, he could never help but marvel at the stark lines of Knox’s features. His cheekbones were lethally sharp, his jaw cut straight coming to a point at his dimpled chin. It was as if his sculptor intended toharshly define each aspect of his face. The final effect was deadly as it was irresistible.
“There are other things we can do if you’re not tired.” Florian allowed his breath to tease Knox’s lips suggestively.
His silver eyes honed on Florian’s mouth, the intent in them clear and unshakable. He welcomed Knox’s kiss, harsh and deep. He was a creature of great feeling, and great pain. What was so guarded in him, in his words, his manners, was stripped away in moments such as this. As always, Florian embraced it all, absorbed his darkness into himself, sending back only tenderness and desire.
Knox broke away, shoulders heaving. Suddenly his attention snapped to the skies. It took Florian a moment longer to see what his eyes were already tracking. Thaddeus was circling low in the air over the rooftops below.
“Does this mean Keira is back?”Back, not home. Knox never called Grimlocke home like the rest of the Blades did, even though he and his sister, Lilith, had lived here long before any of them.
Florian shook his head, determined to recapture his focus. His hand slid down Knox’s bare chest, warm in defiance of the winter night, until he reached the line of his pants and the obvious mark of his arousal straining against them.
Knox’s gaze fixed on him with singular regard, eyes lidded with desire as Florian stroked his hand up his length once more.
“You won’t believe where she is.”
Keira
The wintry wind combed through Keira’s hair, filled her lungs, and stung her cheeks even as a smile stretched wide across her face. Beneath her, the horse beat a steady canter over the frosty hillside. It was still the early hours, and the dew remained frozen, sparkling in the growing dawn. She felt as though she were flying, like she could finally breathe. The white dappled mare shared a similar sentiment. Neither of them were creatures to be cooped up behind stone walls.
Life in Northall was exhausting in a way Keira had never known. Not the physical fatigue of climbing to the highest bough of a tree or the mental exhaustion of studying the same text late into the night. She was drained from worry. Never before had she questioned her every move with such scrutiny. In the week since her arrival, she had been constantly blundering against this principle or that. Tonight, it was liable to get worse.
Keira urged the mare on faster with a squeeze of her legs as if she could outrun the inevitable. Tomorrow would be the Holly Festival. Villages across the kingdom would be busy finishing their preparations. It was the final feast day of the year before people holed up in their homes for the winter. Resources were shared, acts of kindness too, to be sure that everyone was prepared for the bitter days to come. Keira recalled celebrating as a child. Her brothers and father had competed in a tree fallingcompetition and won. All of it was to provide firewood for the village of course, but there was pride and fun in it as well.
It appeared that the nobility had their own ways of celebrating such things. Of course, Caspian would attend the village festival in Llyndale, but tonight, he would be hosting the Holly Feast at the keep. It was tradition for the lords to rotate feast days, Each of the seven noble houses hosted one each year, and Holly Feast was the legacy of Northall. Even the prince was to be in attendance.
Keira pulled back on the reins, slowing from a canter to a walk as they reached a nearby brook. She’d hardly seen Caspian for the last few days due to all the preparations. He was apologetic of course, and it was hardly as if she could help. Still, it had been utterly miserable. Keira sighed. He had taken time to show her the keep’s massive library and a tour of the village. They’d ridden out to Llyndale to order clothes for her and many other essentials for the upcoming festivities. It was a thriving town with a large crafting quarter. The people were friendly and in good spirits with the Holly Day so near. Caspian was certainly well loved…
A sadness stirred in her at that thought. Caspian had settled into the role of lord, quick with a smile and a joke and so charitable. Whereas Keira had never considered herself a particularlylikableperson. Her words were unfiltered and direct, which in this place meant she could hardly speak without breaking some little rule, insulting someone or looking like a complete idiot. Engaging in the obligatory was tedious and exhausting when her temperament was better suited for discovery, stimulation, excitement, whether in the pages of a book or out in the wilds.
