“Speaking of trouble,” I say instead, “have there been any developments in the search for the Harvest Ball poisoner?”
He blows out a weary sigh. “They caught the man who did it.”
“Who?”
“Timothy Hopnell. One of Torvil’s valets found traces of the poison in his guestroom at the castle.”
I press a hand to my chest. “Why would he have done such a thing?”
“He claims he didn’t. But his father testified that he’d fallen in with the anti-monarchists.”
I cock a brow. “Really?”
“Must have. It was the same poison the crypt attacker tried to use on you.”
“Dreadful. And what will happen to him?” Concern wavers the question, and Lachlan levels me with a sharp stare.
“He tried to kill you, Charlotte. He’s being held at a prison in Tír na Lune for now. His sentence is to participate in the Hunt, where one of your suitors will have the honor of killing him on your behalf.”
I shudder, my overly active imagination picturing the sarcastic, intelligent, bespectacled man I remember from courtly dinners getting torn apart by Skadi or Torvil’s báshounds or Desmond’s gryffalcon.
I do not ponder it long, returning my attention to our task. Because if I can’t figure out where Granny Maggie hid this blasted horn fragment, none of it will matter anyway.
Lachlan and I spend the rest of the day, the gentle yet terrifying closure of the first of my two-and-a-half days in the human realm, quietly reviewing our materials.
The ring gently warms as I’m searching through a sketchbook I found tucked away in Granny’s nightstand. A small clue,finally. Inside, there are numerous etchings of two figures posed together. Like she was practicing something.
Revelation nudges the back of my mind, but escapes before I can catch it.
I move on to a new sketchbook, the ring cooling once more, and pause to accept another cup of weak tea from Lachlan. Along with my third boiled egg of the day and a handful of walnuts from the tree out back.
The next time I glance up, the sun has set, Lachlan’s lit a few candles and a fire, and I realize we’ve been sitting together in silence for several hours. It’s been nice, actually. To exist in the same space as him.
For a moment, I let myself dream …
What would happen if I let the time expire? If I stayed here in the human realm? Would he want to stay with me? And when I lost my memories, would he be able to convince me of what we are to each other?
I doubt he could stomach abandoning his people—Garred, the children at the Eyrie, and all the fae of Campan’s Vale. I am the best chance they’ve had in years to regain peace and normalcy, a chance to rebuild. Am I selfish enough to take that away from them?
I look toward Lachlan, his auburn hair gilded by the candleglow, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, and I wish Iwerethat selfish.
I do not want to give him up.
It is the first time I have allowed myself to think such a thing. The first time I’ve formed the words, if only in my mind.
It’s unlikely I’m going to find anything in these books. At least not right now. My brain is feeling rather mushy from hours and hours of searching for clues. I need a break.
And I can think of exactly how I want to spend it.
Lachlan comes very willingly when I take his hand and guide him upstairs.
Lachlan is sodeep inside me that I cannot tell where he ends and I begin.
I’m on top but certainly not in charge. My palms are flat against his chest and he’s got one hand wrapped around my wrists while the other grips my hip, rocking me back and forth onto his cock.
It’s as good as it always is. Better even. If for no other reason than every time with him feels better than the last.
His sapphire eyes—bright and sparkling once again—rove from the place where our bodies are joined and up over my stomach, my breasts, my face while he whispers soft praise likeexquisiteandso fucking tightandcould stay inside you foreverandyou’ll come for me again, won’t you?
