There’s something both thrilling and unsettling in the way he’s staring at me. Especially with all this talk about loving fiercely and getting cut down for it.
I turn away, my boots scuffing the dusty floor as I move deeper into the tunnel. “Have you ever been in love like that?”
“I … ” Lachlan hesitates, remaining silent for long seconds.
Have I pried too deep? Asked too personal a question? He seemed righteously angry while recounting Alanthe’s story. As if he sympathized with her.
Is that why he wants to leave Desmond’s service? Did he break his vow of chivalry and fall in love with a faerie woman? Someone for whom he wants to leave the knighthood?
My chest pinches at the thought. Which is highly ridiculous. Lachlan and I are merely friends. More like partners, I suppose. Why should I care who he’s in love with?
“It’s alright,” I offer when he doesn’t continue. “Another nosy question. I’m afraid I cannot help myself.”
He jogs after me, then slows to hold pace. “No. I’ve not been in love like that yet. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love at all.”
“Oh.” The word contains every strange emotion pinwheeling through me, of which the chief and most dangerous is relief. “Why?”
“Well, despite these outrageous lips”—he smiles down at me, putting those particular weapons on lethal display—“loving a celestial knight would not be a kind burden to put on anyone.”
I have no doubt there are scores of people in this kingdom who would disagree with him. Who might even shred each other to bits for the chance to beburdenedby a love affair with Sir Lachlan Cathal. Hell, I might even sharpen myownclaws for the opportunity.
“What about you?” he asks. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Thousands of times.”
A cocked eyebrow. “Thousands?”
“Of course. With every meal I’ve ever eaten, several rollicking book series, a naughty boomslang named Esmeralda, numerous pieces of art, and?—”
“I thought we were speaking of romantic love.”
“Oh, Sir Cathal.” I bat my lashes at him. “Have you never felt the urge to run away with a toffee pudding? What a dull, flavourless life you must lead.”
He huffs a little laugh, but his voice is serious when he says, “You don’t have to do that with me, you know.”
“What?”
“Deflect with quips. What was it you said to me? That you like to know the truth of things? Well, I want to know the truth ofyou. Even the ugly bits.”
I tuck a curl behind my ear, feeling a little too seen.
And maybe it’s the quiet of this dark crypt, this cold ring on my finger, the knowledge that even if Idosurvive this and complete the great reinvention of Miss Charlotte Emilie Fitzroy, I will be marrying a stranger.
It might be nice to be known by someone in the meantime. Someone who’s as invested in my success as I am, but for his own selfish reasons.
I blow out a long breath as I pause before the final tomb in this tunnel. “I was in love. Once.”
“Was?” Lachlan asks softly. “What happened?”
My shoulder tips up. “He wasn’t.”
The simple answer belies the ache lodged beneath my ribs. Though it’s growing fainter with each passing day in the Otherworld.
Lachlan’s lips part, but before he can get a word out, a sound like metal scraping stone cuts the silence.
Lachlan transforms before my eyes. His brows flatten and his jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck going taut. A predator with perfectly honed senses. My pulse kicks up at the sight of him. At the danger of the situation, of course. Only that.
He’s every inch the celestial knight as he slips his broadsword over his shoulder in a smooth and practiced rhythm that minimizes the metallic hum of the blade against its sheath.
