Page 79 of Blood Oath
“Shut up, dragon,” Everett grumbles.
“You forgot the egotistical golden retriever.” Silas lifts his glass of water like a toast. I don’t know what magic he does, but it suddenly darkens into a dark amber mead that he sips.
“Golden dragon. Way more loyal than a dog and a hundred times sexier,” Baelfire corrects.
“And so very humble,” Silas rolls his eyes.
I’ve tried to ignore my curiosity about their dynamic since we met, but if I’m letting myself relax slightly around them for the next day, I may as well ask.
“I take it you four grew up together?”
Crypt reappears in the chair directly beside Silas and grins wider when the blood fae glares at him. “Their parents hoped we would all become friends. I’m still waiting for the friendship bracelets.”
Baelfire huffs as he pushes his already-empty plate away. I’m always amazed at how quickly shifters can put so much down. “We all come from pretty damn high-profile families, and legacies tend to try getting their children to befriend other powerful legacy children. They ran in the same circles, so we were around each other a lot as kids.”
“But you’re not friends,” I say. It’s not a question.
They exchange glances with one another, and once again, it becomes clear that there are past disputes lingering between them—Baelfire and Everett, Silas and Crypt. Though even Everett seems to dislike the Nightmare Prince, and Baelfire and Silas are a long shot from seeming like pals.
Silas sets down his drink and gives me a serious look. “No. We’re not. But we promise our past altercations won’t get in the way of us being a quintet you’ll be proud to be the keeper of.”
The others don’t disagree, which tells me they’ve discussed this between themselves.
“We’ll deal with our own shit. It will never be your job to break up any dogfights between us. And we’ll try to keep the fighting over you to a minimum,” Baelfire adds teasingly.
“Too bad. I enjoy spectating a good fight.”
That seems to take all four of them aback, but Crypt laughs. “I like it when you’re playful, darling.”
Another thought occurs to me, and I study them. “Do you know each other’s curses?”
That adds another level of tension to their shoulders, and I don’t miss the way Silas sends a harsh look to Baelfire as if to remind him to keep his mouth shut.
“We know each other’s weaknesses,” Crypt says cheerfully, flipping his lighter on and off. “Whether they’re curse-related or not is anyone’s guess.”
Baelfire leans across the table, curiosity written all over his face. “A much better question is…as an atypical caster, you don’t even have a curse, right?”
It’s true. Atypical casters aren’t affected by the Legacy Curse at birth. Though I suppose my condition is worse than most curses I’ve heard of. Not that I’d tell them that, now or ever.
“Actually, I have four.” I look at them each in turn meaningfully.
Silas’s mouth curls up. “So you finally admit we belong to you?”
“Yes, in the same way a raging infection belongs to a leper.”
I offer the insult sweetly before picking up my own glass of water. Before I can lift it to my lips, Silas waves his hand and mutters the same magic word he did earlier, and the liquid darkens into something rich and smooth. When I hesitate, he raises a daring brow.
“Fae mead,” he explains. “For my favorite leper.”
Everett stiffens in his seat where he’s been picking at his food without really eating anything, and for the first time, he looks directly at me. “Don’t drink it. It’s always a mistake to drink anything at this asshole’s whim. The last time I did, I nearly died.”
“As if I would spike her drink with kraken ink,” Silas rolls his eyes. “Fae mead is perfectly safe.”
Kraken ink? Maybe their past issues with each other are more murderous than I realized.
Baelfire snorts. “Only if you have an iron stomach. Are you a lightweight, baby? If you are, don’t even take a sip. That shit’s heartless.”
Maybe it’s from watching their banter and finally letting my walls down bit by bit, but suddenly, the daring look Silas is giving me is irresistible.
