“I have three seamstress appointments today, which tires me so, and tomorrow, Mother is dragging me to the Cantwells’ again, and I will very much need a distraction after listening to the old woman chatter about her six poodles. Tomorrow then?”
“Um.” He was on his third attempt at fastening the last button on his shirt and ripped it off in frustration. “Fuck.”
“That’s the idea,” she said smoothly.
Jesstin chucked the button into the corner and turned in a fluster. His concentration was all over the place, and he couldn’t even recall what he’d been trying to do. “Not tomorrow.”
Her mouth curled in disappointment. “When then?”
“We won’t be seeing each other again.” He tucked his shirt in, then noticed he’d buttoned it all wrong. “Curse it all to hell,” he hissed with a churlish grunt.
“Are you all right?” She sat, wrapping the blanket around herself. “You don’t seem to be.”
“Fine,” he barked.
When she didn’t respond, he cringed at his needless cruelty, gathered himself, and finally looked at her. “I’m fine, but I really have to go.”
“Did you mean it when you said you don’t want to see me again?”
“Don’t ask it like that,” he said, shaking his head at her.
“Like what?”
“Like this is more than what it is.”
She squinted one eye at him. “You have a wife, don’t you?”
He heard the heart-ripping sound of Elloven screaming his name from through the fire. She was still screaming for him when Sesto dragged her away, while Jesstin watched from behind a tree, paralyzed in the certainty it was her fear compelling her, that when she was safe again and the moment was behind her, she’d realize what he already knew. She’d remember how she’d felt in the office.
“Yes.”
“Oh,” she said with a hmph. “That must be Elloven.”
Jesstin paled. “How do you know that name?”
“Is that not what you called me when you were fucking me?” Marissa blinked rapidly.
“I have to go,” he said again and did so before the conversation dragged any further.
Sesto followed a stormy Jesstin up the back steps of the Golden Spiral. He’d been in one of his moods since the night of the fire but had adroitly maneuvered any of Sesto’s attempts to talk about it. Sesto’s hesitant confession about what he’d told Elloven had just led to more of the same brusque irritation. An unlit fuse sitting dangerously close to the fire.
Jesstin, in fact, seemed worse than he’d ever been, in Sesto’s estimation, and while he could make pointed assumptions about everything going on in the poor man’s head, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Jesstin was never more self-destructive than when his misanthropy reached critical mass, and the conspicuous redhead he’d been taking to bed the past two nights was the tipping point that had convinced Sesto he’d rather have Jesstin pissing mad than lose him altogether.
And oh, how he dreaded what the tempestuous boy would say or do when he saw the ambush waiting in his apartment. The timing was either impeccable or terrible, but it would be a miracle if he stayed long enough to hear why he should listen—or care.
“What the fuck is this, Sesto?” Jesstin’s gruff holler drifted down the stairs. “Who are these people in my kitchen?”
“Ah, yes. You see, there’s a very interesting story to be told here, years in the making you might say, though I was only brought into it quite recently?—”
“Sesto. Stop.” Jesstin stood stock-still in the doorway, staring at the five strangers waiting. Four sat, and the fifth leaned against a cupboard.
Everyone perked at Jesstin’s entrance. One jumped from her chair and gestured for him to sit, her gaze incredulous, like the man was the king himself.
The oldest, a poised, middle-aged woman with golden hair tied back in a braid, stood. “If I told you how long I’ve waited for this, you’d never believe me.”
“Who are you?” Jesstin demanded, but his tone was remarkably less annoyed. He sounded almost scared.
“You’ll remember me. I should remember you. I was only ten when you left, but now we finally understand why I don’t. And why most of the others don’t either.” She held out a hand, which Jesstin only stared at. “Nara Skylark, daughter of your brother, Emrys. You’re my uncle.”
