Page 108 of Bia's Blade
“But we are going to destroy it, right?”
“Ah, no. I’ve been ordered to return it to Bia. Or Liadon, so she can return it.”
“The council will not be pleased.”
“The council do not have to know. The blade wasn’t a part of the hoard.” I picked up the cup with my name on it, took a sip, and then reached for the chocolate and broke it open. “I don’t suppose they’ve indicated when our next hunt might begin, have they?”
“Probably twenty-four hours after you’re out the hospital, like they did last time.” His gaze narrowed. “Why?”
I hesitated. “Carla told me to ring someone after she’d died, because this someone would give me all the records she’d been keeping over the centuries. Apparently if we read them carefully enough, we will find our puppet master.”
“And did she give you the number of this someone?”
“No, but she did give me her name, and I have got Carla’s phone.”
“Have you now?” Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “That is evidence, you know.”
“I know, but I’ve been hanging around you too long, and the need to bend the rules has rubbed off.”
He laughed. “Then I shall ensure to impress upon them that you need more than a day’s recovery.”
“Good, because I still have to find Geitha’s Tears, remember, and time is running out.”
“There’s still nearly six months before he has to marry, depending on how long they take to make the crowning arrangements—and I rather suspect Cynwrig will push the time frame out as much as he can.”
“Even if he does, we’re talking about an object that’s been missing for centuries.”
He hesitated. “It is also an object that will ultimately shatter you. I do not wish to see that.”
I smiled and squeezed his fingers. “I’m not that fragile, Mathi.”
“Even the strongest tree has a breaking point. I fear Cynwrig might be yours.”
“He is Myrkálfar; I am not. I have always known he and I can never be.”
No matter what my heart might say to the contrary. No matter how much he might ask me to trust him, believe in him.
Mathi smiled, but the concern in his eyes sharpened. “I may never personally experience love, Bethany, but I know it when I see it. I see it in you.”
“It doesn’t matter what you see, and it doesn’t matter what I feel. It won’t break me. I can promise you that.”
He studied me for several long seconds, then nodded and pulled his hand from mine. “Whatever the future may bring, I will be here.”
“I know. Thank you.”
Bedevilment stirred through his expression. “Well, I can hardly afford to have my best—and probably only—true friend fall to pieces before she has completed the odious task of choosing me a wife.”
I laughed. “Does that mean the contract situation has been sorted?”
“It does indeed. Let the games begin.”
“May the best woman win.”
I lightly tapped my cup against his and tried to ignore the stupid part of my heart—the part I’d sworn only seconds ago would not break—that wished, when it came to Cynwrig,hisbest woman could be me.
But even if, by some miracle, he did find a way around the restriction of tradition and expectations, the gods had spoken, and my death was slated.
And that meant heartbreak, even if it did happen, wouldn’t last for long.
I guessthatwas something to look forward to.
