Page 114 of Kingdoms of Night

He frowned inwardly. If they weren’t trapped in this realm, searching for two missing children—

If they had met on a balmy evening around the bright bonfires of Ignis, just a man and a woman setting aside their cares, he would’ve swept her off her feet if she’d let him, lived a lifetime in one night. He would’ve pleasured her, brought her entire body to screaming life, until long after her throat went hoarse and her limbs lost all function. Until tears welled in her eyes and her fingers pulled at his hair. If there was one thing he could do well—

Heat throbbed in his body, pleasant, warm, wanting. He glanced in her direction, caught her scent heavy on the air, and his mouth watered.

No, definitely not. There were no bright bonfires. This was not the Ignis festival. And their cares were far from set aside. Immeasurably far.

No. Not happening.

But those legs. Even in that skirt, he could see the outline of her calves, her thighs, her backside—

Why did swearing not to think about something make it so much harder not to think about it? Maybe if she didn’t have such exceptional legs and—

He clenched his hands into fists, then shook his head. She had made it perfectly clear she was only here to find her cousin, Lalko. Just as he was only there to find Annette. She’d saved his life, and he wouldn’t be here to find Annette without her.

Turning away from him, she adjusted her braids, pulled out some pins, and re-secured the few braids back loosely into the coiling serpentine pattern.

He brushed tentative fingertips down her upper arm, and she glanced back at him. “Idalno, you are important. Thank you for—”

“We should probably be going.” She picked up her pack. “Puck said we couldn’t reach the castle in a day. But maybe in a couple.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

IDALNO

It did not take long for Idalno to finish gathering up her things and all but a few of the baked goods and a couple pieces of fruit onto one of the chairs. Buttercup and Hawthorn returned and spoke to Feron presumably, or perhaps the three of them just stared at each other and shook their heads a lot. Whatever they must have said made Feron’s face and throat redden.

Not that it mattered.

She straightened her already straight black vest, smoothed down some loose threads on her skirt, and then pulled the bag onto her shoulder. “We should get moving. And you should eat. There are pastries and fruit over there. Get whatever you want and bring the rest. If you’re still hungry, I have more. I’m going to look for the path.”

“Yeah.” He braced his hands on his waist, drawing in a deep breath. The black of the clothing emphasized his lean muscled build and sun-tanned skin. Not that it mattered, but he was very handsome. She’d always thought Naatos wore it well, but Feron wore it better.

Oh boll weevils. No.

“Idalno,” he said, his name falling so easily from his lips. “In your bag, do you happen to have… any shoes?”

Despite being dressed from shoulders to ankles in fresh clothes, he stood on the leaf-strewn floor barefoot.

“Oh, yes. I think your boots survived the shifting, but we must’ve left them in the meadow. I’ll go look. Also I picked up that red scarf of yours. It’s in the bag if you want it.” It had seemed important to him, at least important enough to be touchy about it on the road. Before her gaze could fix on him again, she strode out the door.

Warm early-morning sunlight had washed away the dark dreariness of the moonless night. Five steps out from the hut and already she could see traces of the meadow from the night before. It felt like it had been so much farther away. But the dark was like that.

She turned around slowly, trying to orient herself. The sunlight dappled the ground, scattered through the bald cypress boughs, dew glistening on the blades of grass. Clusters of buttercups and yellow violets grew at intervals with bits of trillium nestled among the tree roots. Where was the castle?

Feron appeared beside her, pulling on one brown boot while holding the other. He pointed to the left. “The wolves say the path picks up again that way.”

“Works for me.” She tried to avoid looking at him as she started in that direction. Hawthorn and Buttercup trotted alongside.

Something had changed last night. That sinking in the pit of her stomach, the sweating along her palms and the back of her neck—not good.

She ducked under a low-hanging branch and pushed through the thick leafy brush. The leaves and branches scraped against her legs and arms. It had been a long time since she’d wandered through the forest without a heavy shawl. Not counting last night, of course.

It had been even longer since she’d woken up next to someone. A sigh built within her as she emerged from the trees into the flat green meadow. Wildflowers rose up in great clumps and in all shades of the rainbow, their floral perfume gentle as the newest spring blossoms. The rosy-red bricks cut a gentle path through the grass and carried on toward the horizon’s deep haze.

Feron walked near her. No need to acknowledge that, though, or admit that she had seen him naked. Better to act as if nothing had happened.

But… it had been nice to wake up with someone in bed beside her. She’d never really had that before. Not that someone like him would ever be interested in her. And not that she should be thinking of him in that way.

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