Page 4 of Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters 2)
“Are you suggesting that the queen will not allow her own sister to attend her dinner party without a date?” Rhys tried to make light of the situation. Surely it wasn’t as dire as Circe made it sound.
Circe chewed her lip before speaking. “Medea spends too much time locked up in that palace. To elevate her boredom, she’s become enchanted with party games, especially Royal Cross. She thinks it’s delightful to play teams, which requires an even number of guests. She’s gone so far as to mention it in the invitation. If I don’t bring a guest, it will throw off the players. Even if I sat the game out, it would leave a spot open on the board.”
As much as he’d love to tell her she was wrong and her participation didn’t matter, Rhys was familiar with Royal Cross; he used to excel at the game as a child. It was played on a field divided into four quadrants by crossed lines of stones. Each quadrant was divided into six sectors. Each sector contained an object that could only be manipulated by magic. The object of the game was to move all the objects out of your quadrant into your opponent’s quadrant. Each team got one turn to analyze and move their object while also spelling it to make it harder for the opposing team to move back. Each item had its own hidden properties at the start of the game which made it more challenging to manipulate. It took logic, strategy, and power to win. Circe hadn’t misinterpreted the invitation.
“Why does this upset you? For a woman like you, I’m sure finding a guest shouldn’t be too difficult.” Rhys couldn’t help but scowl as he said it. Circe was a beautiful woman. He’d noticed many men watching her with hungry eyes when they’d journeyed into town for healing visits. Not only was she beautiful enough to put the grandest mountain views of Darnuith to shame, the power to be gained by a relationship with the queen’s sister would appeal to many of his sex.
Many of thewrongtype of men, he supposed.Fates’ fury. He made an effort to keep his expression impassive. As much as it would be mischief to pursue Circe, he did not like to think about her attending a banquet with another man, especially with one who entertained dark motives.
“You’re wrong about it not being difficult,” she said sadly. “You saw what happened this morning. Half of Darnuith hates us. They’ve never accepted my sister as the true queen. I can’t even invite a girlfriend because I have none other than Isis, and she’s invited as well. No one speaks to me except for a curt hello or goodbye. The few men I’ve met who initially seem interested are often intimidated by me.”
He hated how dejected she looked. Were those tears in her eyes? He didn’t think he could stand to see her cry. The thought awakened a deep protective instinct in him he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“That can’t be true,” he assured her, although the thought of her wanting for male attention made him oddly joyful inside. “There must be someone you could ask.”
“Rhys?”
“Yes?” His brows climbed. Was she thinking about asking him? Folly.
She sighed and spread her arms wide. “In your professional opinion, is there something wrong with me? Something offensive that causes the people here to push me away?”
“No!” he said a little too forcefully, but he just couldn’t leave her believing that. “If people here seem reluctant to trust you, it’s only because outsiders are rare in Darnuith and it is unheard of for a witch from another land to become queen. It’s unsettling to the older families who came to expect the Fates to do the same thing they’d always done. Give it time. People will open their hearts and minds.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d heard scattered whisperings of how pleased people were with Medea’s rule. The hatred Circe had witnessed wasn’t universal, as much as it’d seemed so.
She took a step toward him. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
The corner of his mouth twitched of its own accord despite his brain screaming that he should under no circumstances be wooing Circe with kind words. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. I hate liars.”
Her hand came to rest on top of his, and she squeezed his fingers. The tension he’d felt during the almost kiss in the laboratory seized him again, and his brain flashed a delicious vision of lifting her onto the counter, shoving up her dress, and spreading her thighs. He turned away from her to hide the lust that must be evident in his eyes.
“If you’ll excuse me…” He moved for the storage room, putting precious space between them. A woman had no business being so enchanting. Every time he looked at her, he lost his damned mind.
“Rhys?”
He ignored her and started moving jars around like he was truly busy, when the apothecary was as tidy as it had ever been.
She came up behind him, her presence like a live flame in the small room. Her spirit could not be ignored. He cleared his throat and met her gaze.
“Wouldyougo with me?”
He stopped. He could feel a scowl pass through his expression, and a sharp pain flared across Circe’s features in response. She looked as if he’d struck her, and he hadn’t said a word.
“Forget I asked,” she added quickly, her voice soft and thready. “I… I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“I’ll go with you,” he blurted. The words were out of his mouth before he could think it through. Anything to make her smile again.
Her face brightened, sending warmth through him. “Thank you. Oh, Rhys, thank you.” She backed toward the front of the store again, and he took a deep breath of fresh air.
“As your friend, of course,” he added toward her back. “Anything else would be inappropriate, considering we work together.”
At first, she looked shocked. Then her eyes narrowed and her smile faded. She nodded in agreement. “O-of course,” she sputtered. “As a favor to me. I’ll owe you one.”
Rhys grabbed a few empty jars and shoved them into the bag he used to collect specimens. With a few terse words that served as a goodbye, he escaped out the door. He’d made a date with Circe. As friends. He rolled his eyes toward the heavens as he mounted his broom. An evening with her would either be a whiff of heaven or a stroll through hell. He wasn’t sure he was ready for either.
ChapterThree
Circe fastened the waist of her gown and wondered if it was too much. Rhys had made it clear that tonight they were attending her sister’s banquet as friends, a confusing notion considering she was sure he’d been close to kissing her. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d been drawn to him from the first time she’d walked into Bloodgood’s Apothecary.
The dress she was wearing could never be described as friendly. If the energy of a deep kiss was turned into fabric and wrapped around her, it would look like this dress. She’d found it in the window of a clothier in Mistcraven. The witch who ran the shop made alterations to accommodate Circe’s above-average height and willowy stature. The deep rose-colored fabric skimmed her torso before flaring out in featherlight layers from her hips. For some reason, the color made her eyes turn a deeper blue. Not as dark as Isis’s, whose irises could appear black under certain light, but a richer shade like the inside of a sapphire.
