Page 65 of A War of Three Kings

“Normally I can cast out my consciousness and dip into the eyes and ears of the simplest of the low fae to collect information. Beasts like Cú Sídhe or spriggan or some lesser goblins. High fae and nymphs have natural barriers. Humans with very little fae in them seem to be good enough vessels if I don’t linger. I can hop from body to body in an army to have a look around, but I won’t be able to penetrate a meeting for long enough to spy on a conversation. Shame. There are so many creatures in our realm that allow me to be a fly on the wall for hours, literally. My power isn’t accustomed to this place.”

“We will delve into enemy territory. We’ve never had qualms about spying on an enemy.” Zinnia says the words slowly.

“How long will it take you?” I ask.

“It depends on how far and wide we need to search for this army, and how many vessels are available for us to hop across to get there,” Drake replies. “It could take an hour, or it could take all night.”

A knock sounds at the door, and we all turn to it. Silvan gets up and cracks it open an inch, a hand on the dagger at his waist. Through the gap, curls of fiery red hair and a single long-lashed eye are visible.

“Silvan?” Keira’s voice rings out. He opens the door fully and flicks his head for her to enter. Her gaze meets mine. “Lord Adalwolf has arrived. We are meeting in the war room.”

“Can’t you stay for a few minutes, Keira?” Drake calls over my shoulder. “We have hardly seen you since we arrived in this gods-forsaken realm.”

“Sure, she’ll stay for a sleepover, and we’ll all braid each other’s hair instead of letting her go to a war council,” Klara mutters.

“Too bad I don’t have any hair,” Drake laughs.

Keira’s wide eyes dart between the two of them. I wonder if she understands their dry humor or if she thinks they argue all the time.“Tomorrow,” she promises. “I can’t linger. I’m not meant to be here.” Drake raises his eyebrows, and she lets out a nervous laugh. “Caitlin was supposed to summon Aldrin.”

I stand from the bed and glance at Drake over my shoulder. “Do what you must.”

Both Drake and Zinnia pull pillows onto the ground and seat themselves into meditative poses, holding hands, their backs against the wall. Klara pulls out incense sticks and lights them while Silvan hums a low, drawn-out melody that is purely masculine.

I close the door before they begin their trance. It would unnerve any human to see the air turn into smoky tendrils around them as they reach out with their consciousnesses.

Hawthorne slips out of the door behind us and leans casually against the wall beside it. He will take the first watch. While Drake and Zinnia are in their trance, they are incredibly vulnerable to attack. It takes a long time for them to find their way back to their own bodies, and afterward, they can be weak as babies.

“What are they up to?” Keira whispers to me. “Summoning a demon?” She laughs.

We round a corner in the corridor, then take a flight of stairs before I answer. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She gives me a hard look. “Seriously?”

“Okay, we said no secrets between us, right?” I say, opening a door for her and gesturing her through. “But that means you need to trust my judgments.”

Keira cocks an eyebrow at me, and so I tell her exactly what Drake and Zinnia are up to in whispered snatches, halting each time a soldier or priestess crosses paths with us.

“It’s not exactly ethical, but…” She trails off.

“But spying never is, and we need that information,” I say.

“Don’t tell any humans how you get it,” she whispers. “Tell them Drake speaks with crows or something like that.”

I give her a half-smile, amused by the indignant outrage widening her eyes and flushing her cheeks, despite how she encourages me to do it anyway.

We pass an alcove that has a deep-set door within it, barred and locked, and a large banner askew on the wall, hanging over it. On the spur of the moment, I pull Keira in and push her back against the door, dragging the banner over the alcove with an air wield. It barely hides us.

Keira’s breath snags and her lips part, but I don’t give her a chance to recover before I catch her in a bruising kiss. Her hands fly into my hair as my tongue slips into her mouth, caressing against hers in frenzied movements like a wild beast.

She is all I can smell, the rose-oil scent of her hair that tells me she has had time to bathe. She is all I want to taste. Every part of her. This woman is the only thing that is ever on my mind.

I drag her lower lip between my teeth while her chest rises and falls with panted gasps. I can’t seem to get enough of her, even as our lips glide across each other.

Her soft body melts under my touch as I run my hands over her large, soft breasts, enjoying her shudders as I brush my fingers over her nipples in teasing circles. I kiss my way down her neck, her collarbone, to the tops of her breasts, while my hands trace the sweet curves of her hips and perfectly rounded ass.

I bunch up the white fabric of her skirts in one hand, desperate to get beneath them, while I lick my way down her ample cleavage that always seems to be on display.

Her sweet voice breaks the moment. “Aldrin. The war meeting.”

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