Page 21 of The Stygian Crown

He smelled so good—clean and fresh and masculine. The castle always smelled of dust and incense. He cradled the back of her head in one hand and lightly massaged it.

“You don’t hate me?” she said against his chest.

“Hate you? After prison break like that? I’ll never let Logan live down getting himself drugged.”

Kara pulled away from him. “Be serious, Jon.”

“I don’t hold it against you, Kara. When Logan told us the prisoner was your brother, I understood. I would have done the same for mine. I just wish you’d trusted us enough to tell us.”

“I thought you were an only child?”

“He died when we were young. I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”

“I need to get out of this dress.” Kara twisted around, motioning toward the flat line of buttons hidden beneath a flap of fabric.

Jon quickly undid the majority of the buttons, his expression in the mirror tight. When he neared her waist, he stopped. “That should be sufficient,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Kara shrugged out of the dress, letting it pool around her feet.

“God’s teeth, woman. I’m not made of stone.”

Kara glanced down at herself. The tightly laced corset was pushing up her breasts, and the lace border of her black stockings was visible beneath the thin slip. “You offered.”

“I didn’t dream that you’d take me up on it.”

Kara chuckled. “I need help with the corset.” It occurred to Kara that Jon might be willing to help her with her keening. He was attractive, and he made it obvious he liked her—though Kara never considered it anything more than a close friendship before. She didn’t want to cause strife between him and Logan, though. They had enough bloody history together.

Jon shuddered. He loosened the laces at a speed to rival Merry, keeping his gaze trained on the corner of the room. “Off with you, before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Kara rose an eyebrow at him and sat down at her vanity, where she began to pull pins out of her hair and remove her jewelry and makeup.

“Are you planning to stay in Lerathil?”

Jon took a seat on the patterned chaise lounge under the window and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. Another contract. The King wants a lot of eyes and muscle on this.”

“Who all is here?”

“Everyone from Travincal. We rode directly for the Karashae desert, once money for the escort was in hand and we were through—” Jon paused. “Through hunting you. Rohan will have turned Raven’s Rest on its head by the time we return. The horses may be living in the great hall as we speak.”

“Thomas?”

“In the musician’s booth tonight. He’s not bad at the triangle. Faedra and Aaron were waiters.”

“I need to speak with him. Apologize.”

Jon shrugged. “If you wish. You taught him a valuable lesson.”

Kara scoffed. “Not to trust anyone?”

“Not to let his guard down in situations like that, even to a friendly face. If you’d been a Sanguine spy, he’d no longer be in possession of his guts.”

“And what ofLord Melbourne?”

“An actual title, awarded by the king himself. The court knows he’s the Stygian Commander, but he’s still accepted here. He’s a curiosity for them.”

“You’re telling me that King Calim hired someone called Lerathil’s Bane to escort his sister across Teleriaandgave him a title?” Had the title came with any lands? Did Logan have an entirely different life waiting for him outside of the clan, but chose the clan anyway?

“How do you think Calim becameKingCalim? Troublesome councilmen and political detractors can live a long time if left to their own devices.”

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