Conrad held his jacket close to his chest.“I’m sorry.I didn’t mean to damage your reputation.I’ll clarify things with our host first thing in the morning.”
The other man heaved a sigh.“You didn’t damage—quite frankly, clarifying things would be worse.Don’t bother.Just try not to make it more of a mess, if you please.”
Conrad nodded.“Right.”He folded his jacket and then paused.“If they ask again tomorrow, what would you like me to tell them?”
Mr.Ravenwing’s lips pinched together.“I suppose what’s done is done.At least I know now what everyone was getting at.But you should know that anything you say to anyone here will get around to the entire house within a matter of hours.”
“Thank you.It is very kind of you to warn me.I’ll keep that in mind.”
The fae scoffed and turned back to his looking glass.Conrad continued to undress, relieved that the conversation had ended on a congenial note.He looked at the last outfit in his bag with some wariness; he’d need to do a cleaning spell the next day if he wanted to avoid wearing dirty clothes.Perhaps Roger would lend him some of his supplies.He shoved the bag back under the bed and climbed under the covers, leaving his candle lit as Mr.Ravenwing was still busy applying oil.
He watched with some fascination as the man massaged it into his skin in a languid fashion.He’d been too tired the night before to pay it much mind.Mr.Ravenwing caught his eye in the looking glass and smirked.
“Like what you see?”
Conrad sat up a little in bed.“You’re very methodical.Do you do that every night?”
“Most nights, yes.”
“Hm.I suppose that explains why your skin is so soft.”
Mr.Ravenwing lifted an eyebrow.“Noticing my skin, Mr.Moore?”
Conrad laughed.“Well, I did feel it against my own for quite some time this morning.”He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back against the pillow.“Do all fae share a preference for floral scents?”
Mr.Ravenwing paused in the act of rubbing his chest.“What do you mean?”
“Well, I was given lavender soap for my bath yesterday, which I’ve noticed is what Wyndham uses as well.You use rose oil every night.Back home, most of the humans I know use soap that is much plainer in scent.So I’ve been wondering if it’s an aspect of fae culture.”
Mr.Ravenwing’s expression clouded a little as he frowned in a thoughtful way.“I can’t speak for all fae,” he said at last.“But Wyndham and I have always shared that preference for scents.”
“Have you known him a long time, then?”
“Yes.”
The response was curt and in a tone that suggested he did not want to discuss the matter further.
“Thank you for satisfying my curiosity,” Conrad said.“If I can ever return the favor, do let me know.”
Mr.Ravenwing didn’t respond as he put the lid on his bottle of oil and stood sedately from the ottoman.His robe slipped off his shoulders in a fluid movement and pooled to the ground.
Assuming the conversation was over, Conrad leaned on his elbow to blow his candle out, but was paused by a fingertip grazing his arm.
“Are all humans as muscular as you?”
The question was asked softly, in a voice as silky as the robe that was now on the floor.Conrad turned and smiled at him over his shoulder.
“No, these were hard-earned.I’ve worked on the shipyards for over half my life, carting crates and boxes over the docks.It’s heavy work.But I suppose I’ll lose some of the muscles if I get this position.I imagine there won’t be as much lifting and moving about in the Council.”
“Pity.”
Conrad chuckled.“I suppose it might be, in a way.But I like to think of it as a phase in my life that I’m moving on from.Besides, if all goes well, I’ll be dressing more like Cyril or Silas and then no one would notice my body anyway.”
Mr.Ravenwing pulled his hand away and his brow furrowed.“Who?”
“Cyril?He’s one of Roger’s friends, one of the humans.Very pleasant chap.I think you’d like him.He’s very impressed with your fashion sense, you know.”
Mr.Ravenwing gave a little huff.“There are too many people here to keep track of.”
