Page 70 of Omen of ice
“Will you trust that I’ll tell you when I can?”
“I suppose I have no choice, do I?”
The pain that flows through the link settles like a stone in my chest. “I’m sorry.” And I am. I, the Fae who’s never sorry about anything—who makes no excuses or apologies for who I am, what I say or do, or where I come from—am sorry. But telling her now, with the weight of the bond bringing her down, would only make things worse. “I just— I need to figure something out.” After the link is broken. I can tell her then.
“That’s vague.”
“It is.”
She laughs. Not a harsh cackle or an irritated snort, but an actual laugh. The sound of it makes the hairs on the back of my neck jump to attention. It’s soft yet hearty. Genuine amusement trickles down the link and lingers for a moment before fading. “Just give me a heads-up if it puts our lives in danger, would you? I don’t like surprises.”
“So…” I clear my throat and try to focus on something other than the way her lips move as she smiles. “You were saying…about Lunal?”
“I was so eager to leave Lunal and find my place in the world of the Fae. I used to lay awake at night, imagining all the things we’d accomplish, how we’d make enormous strides in bringing both our people back from the brink.” She lets out a pained laugh. “Then I had to go and screw it up.”
The small glimpse of vulnerability is so unlike her, and I find myself wanting to chase it. To see more of the person she keeps so guarded. “What happened was a simple mistake.” I’m not aware that I’ve inched closer to her until our knees are nearly touching. I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Gods, she’s something to see. Fierce and brilliant and deadly, all wrapped in a brazen, beautiful package. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
It’s hard to look at her and remember a time—not that long ago—that I wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. How has she burrowed so deeply under my skin? I was guarded, too. I was careful. Nothing was taken too seriously, and no one was allowed too close. Yet here she is, this breakable human girl with the loyalty of a Fae, the stubbornness of an ogre, and the compassion of a sprite.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Together…” She takes a deep breath, her heartbeat thundering through the link, and shakes her head. Her brows knit, and her lips press into a firm, thin line. “I think we need to redefinetogether.”
“Oh? Well, if you insist on it, we should take our clothing off and start redefining things immediately.” I grab the hem of my tunic and grin.
She doesn’t smile back. “I’m serious, Valen. What happened? We can’t do that again.”
“You mean the kiss?”
“It was a bad idea. You see that, right?”
That same, seductive hum pulses through the link, and I can’t help myself. “I’m not convinced. Maybe you should kiss me again to prove your point.”
She rolls her eyes and slumps back against the tree, then nods to Daroose, who’s snoring several feet across from us. “What do you think?”
I know kelpies are despicable creatures that deserve the pointed end of her sword, but given Tania’s love of all living things, I decide to keep my thoughts to a minimum on that matter. “Not sure. Don’t trust him, though.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
I gasp and offer her an expression of mock surprise. “Surely you lie! The great druid Keltania of the Order of Aphelian trusts all living creatures.”
She half-heartedly kicks at me, trying—and failing—to hide her grin.
I dramatically waggle my brows, and she laughs, the rest of the tension draining from the link. “Oh. I do like it rough,” I say. “A bit harder and much lower, if you don’t mind.”
“Careful, Fae. If you anger me, I’ll command him to eat you.”
“Counterproductive, since you’d essentially be eaten, too.”
“If I really have to listen to your scratchy voice for the next week, it might be worth it.”
She doesn’t mean it. In fact, she likes the sound of my voice.
I like the sound of her voice, too.
As the night wears on, we settle into a comfortable silence. It isn’t long before Tania drifts off to sleep, while I continue keeping watch. Every so often, my gaze flickers to the kelpie. I don’t know what I’m expecting it to do, but I know what it’s capable of. We still have a long way to go, and I don’t trust it not to get in the way—or worse.
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