Page 95 of Omen of ice
Benj, on the other hand, is grinning from ear to ear. “Being of beauty? Really? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone ingested a fair bit of piskie ale.”
“I might have accidentally given Tania some while we greeted the locals,” Daroose says. He sounds apologetic, and I don’t understand why. He did me an amazing favor. I’ve never felt so free, so alive.
Benj snickers, and Delkin grumbles something too low for me to hear before saying, “Come on. I got us a room for the night. They can sleep it off, and we can get moving in the morning.”
Sleep? And miss this? Not a chance. No, there’s too much fun to be had…
32
Valen
Tania is sprawled on her back on the narrow bed next to mine. She’s been humming for the last half hour. It’s a vaguely familiar tune, and I wonder if it’s something I heard once or if the link between us has gotten so strong that I’ve started remembering things from her memory.
“That’s pretty. What is it?”
She stops humming and sighs. “There was a tale Levina told when we were children. That was the tune the minstrel played as she spoke.”
“Sounds like it was a happy story.”
“It was a horribly violent tale.” Her soft laugh slowly turns into an all-out chortle. A month ago, I would have found the sound grating. Now? I wish she’d do it more often. “Everyone died in the end.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I turn to find Tania watching me. She tilts her head to one side and says, “You, actually.”
From the moment we crossed the threshold, I’ve secretly stolen over a dozen glances at her. Somewhere along the line, the sight of her started making my chest feel heavy in the most amazingly confusing yet electric way. I want her. Want her in a way I’ve never wanted another.
The piskie ale is still working its way through her system, makingmyhead swim. That has to be it. That, or the fact that she’s so different from the others I’ve grown up with. No Fae I know has hair like fire and a mixture of hard and soft curves that I itch to touch. We don’t question everything or fight when there is no hope.
The Fae at court treat me as though I’m just as much a royal as my uncle. Most bow and scrape and fight for my approval. None of them get under my skin like Tania. None make me feel supremely weak yet able to freeze the world at the same time. I’ve never been challenged or questioned, and I’m not sure I can go back to the way things were.
“I bet I would fall in love with you,” I say absently. “If I weren’t warded against it.”
She swings her legs around and dangles them off the edge of the bed. “Oneproperkiss, and I’d probably shatter that sigil to bits.”
“You already kissed me, remember?” I thump my chest. “Sigil still stands.”
“Well, I wasn’t really trying. That was a peck at best. Not a proper kiss at all.”
If that was a peck, then there’s a good chance I wouldn’t survive a real kiss from Tania. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”
I sit up and face her as my pulse hammers. Part of me feels the ale fading from her system, but another part refuses to acknowledge it. If the ale is still present, then anything we do, anything we say, can be written off as an inconvenient side effect.
“I’m very curious to see if you’re right,” I tell her.
She stands and crosses the small space between the beds, stopping next to mine so that she towers over me. Another might find it intimidating. As a society, Fae don’t generally yield to the fairer of our race. I, however, find it intoxicating. Not knowing what she’ll do—yield to the desire I feel emanating from her or slit my throat in response to the secret I carry. She wants me the same way I want her, but what she’ll do about that is anyone’s guess.
She leans in, painfully close. A strand of her fiery hair falls forward and tickles the side of my cheek. “What of my ward? Think you’re man enough to break it?”
I stand to meet her, eyes pinning hers with defiance. “I guarantee I’mFaeenough to make it interesting.”
She laughs. Not a sound of amusement—more like pity. The kind of laugh you might offer a poor soul intent on pursuing a fool’s errand. “Do you really think your kiss is something special?”
I boldly wrap my arms around her waist, then pull her several inches closer. She’s warmth and life, nearly flush against me, and my gaze falls to her lips. My head is nearly clear now. Hers has to be close. Still… “I think there’s no reason to answer that. If you’re wondering, find out for yourself.”
Hesitation filters through the link. But the pull of desire, of the remaining ale still lingering, is a siren’s call. It beckons her—beckons me—to cross a line both of us agreed not to. It wars with the sensibility slowly returning to us both. Instinct that screamsmove away and never think of this again.
I can move away. But we’re here, and the pull is strong. Much stronger than it should be. But it has to be her choice. “Come now, Aphelian. Don’t tell me you’re scared…”
