Page 10 of Blood & Roses

“From the fall,” Rowan clarified, heaving me up to stand, this time successfully. He still stood incredibly close, one arm around me as he asked again, “Are you well, Isolde?”

“She’d better be,” came the growling voice of an eight-foot brown bear from the door of the cabin. “Or you won’t.”

Chapter 5

“Orson, Rowan,” I gestured between the two males, making introductions once we were inside Orson and Lis’ cabin and out of the snow. My stupid heart was thumping rapidly enough that I knew Orson could hear it, and he shot me knowing glances between the glares he aimed at the newcomer. “Rowan, this is my sister Melisande.”

“Lis,” she corrected with a bright smile at Rowan. Orson growled behind her, and my sister rolled her eyes. “Whydon’t you make us some hot cocoa, Kjære,” she suggested, lifting on her toes to kiss Orson’s bearded chin.

He scowled at Rowan, but agreed, dropping a kiss to her lips in the casual, loving way they had. He gave me a peck on the cheek with a warm, “Hello Iz,” before casting a final glare at Rowan and tramping to the kitchen.

Rowan, to his credit, didn’t balk at the fierce attention of my almost-brother-in-law, leaning down to whisper, “Well he’s terrifying,” once Orson was presumably out of earshot.

“I heard that,” Orson growled, Lis wincing at Rowan’s blanching face.

“He has fae hearing,” Lis explained, waving us over to the couch before the hearth, where a fire was burning merrily. “Nothing escapes him.”

She beamed fondly at her mate, and I felt my heart lurch with the tiniest twinge of jealousy. Not that she didn’t deserve her happiness. She and Orson were mates in the shifter sense of the word, and were hopelessly, utterly in love.

It was silly to be jealous. I had six sisters to care for—five now, I supposed, since Orson had Lis firmly in hand—and I wouldn’t abandon them like my parents had for a fleeting romance. They still needed me, especially the younger ones, and any romance would be a complication. What man or male would agree to live in a tiny cottage in the Deep Wood with almost all of his lover’s sisters?

“I seem to recall Izzy threatening to turn me into a rug once,” Orson called from the kitchen as the sound of clinking mugs indicated he was following Lis’ suggestion to make cocoa. “No one is scarier than the Nightshade sisters in full protection mode.”

I gave Rowan a triumphant smirk, and he raised a brow at me, unconvinced.

“Speaking of which,” I said, glancing around the cabin, happy to see little signs of Lis everywhere in the dried flower wreaths and the new books and the collection of daggers in the corner, “I may still do it if you don’t get on with the handfasting.”

Lis and Orson’s romance had been something of a whirlwind, and it was hard to remember they’d only been together for a month. Time moved differently for mates, Orson said, but I was determined that he’d do the job properly in a human fashion, if not an elven one.

“Gods, Iz,” Lis sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Stop your fussing.”

Orson just laughed, returning from the kitchen with three mugs of cocoa. “All in good time. When I’m done thoroughly claiming her, we’ll do whatever you like.”

“Orson!” Lis snapped, flushing red as I shuddered and Rowan coughed with embarrassment.

“You two are disgusting,” I said without rancor, accepting the cocoa with a grateful smile. Orson growled at Rowan, and I added, “And you can stop going all bear on him. He’s harmless.”

“He was rolling with you in the snow,” Orson growled, eyes narrowed at Rowan as he thrust out the cup of cocoa, nearly spilling the hot drink all over him. “My mate’s sister should not be pawed at by an amateur.”

“Kjære!” Lis admonished, face flaming brighter.

“Excuse me,” Rowan spluttered, looking indignant, “but I amnotan amateur.”

“Totallynotthe point,” I hissed, glaring at Rowan. He gave me a roguish wink. “Stop that!”

“Your father is missing,” Orson pointed out, sitting so close to Lis she was forced to adjust herself into his lap or risk spilling the cocoa. “He cannot assess your mates for you.”

“That’s not your job either,” Lis argued.

I prayed to all the gods for patience, feeling Rowan’s eyes on me like a brand.

“He’s a client,” I snapped, my own face flushed with embarrassment. “Onlya client.”

I explained the stag and Rowan’s request and the compromise about helping free his brother, all while trying not to meet my almost-brother-in-law’s piercing gaze. I may have left out my own suspicions about who Rowan’s brother really was, but Orson and Lis were both smart enough to know I was being evasive.

“We agreed on no more crime,” Lis said finally, giving me a suspicious look.

“It’s not a crime if she’ll be saving lives,” Rowan argued. He’d let me do most of the talking so far, but whatever restraint he was employing seemed to be wearing thin. “This would not be the first murder on the queen’s hands, and it won’t be the last. My brother doesn’t deserve death.”