Page 61 of Between Fear and Favor

“You think the gods would have chosenthe Myriadto control the font?” Fletcher asked, his expression a little too close to a sneer for my comfort. I pushed down on his unharmed shoulder, making him fall onto the bench beside me.

“I-I don’t know why not,” Nor said, frowning, as she pulled her hands into her lap. I knew what she was doing without seeing. Her mother’s ring had caught the light while she twisted it on her finger over various occasions.

“Fletcher, be easy,” I warned. She was still reeling from a whole hell of a lot of information from the past few weeks. The way he leaned forward had me itching to pull him back by the collar. I didn’t think he had anything other than passionate opinions in mind, but I still didn’t like it.

“Granny reckons it works on everybody,” he whispered. “But we wouldn’t know, would we? Not since the first Supreme.”

Nor stared at him before tugging her lower lip in between her teeth. I loved that expression on her—curious and contemplative. It wasn’t the response I expected. “No, I suppose we wouldn’t know. What makes her think that?”

“Why else would they guard it so heavily?”

Nor’s eyebrows gathered, and she looked at me for my opinion.

“So there’s enough to last?” I offered, but the idea of defending anything the Myriad had ever done sat heavy in my gut. When I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her, realizing she was the best thing that gods forsaken nightmare had ever produced, I swallowed hard.

I needed another drink.

“You want to know what I think, Nor?” Fletcher asked, propping himself up on his elbow, still favoring the arm in a sling. “I think those of us with elf-blood should take control of it once the Supreme is dead. I’m a descendant of the royal family, you know. Which in turn means I’m a descendent of the antler god, Iemis himself.”

“People from Skos believe Shika’s tale is actually about Iemis and the Mother goddess rather than Hanwen and Rhia. Did you know that?” Jumping on the opportunity to distract myself from Nor, I inserted myself into the conversation.

“Thyra tell you that?” Fletcher asked, looking dubious. “She was probably just trying to make you regret your tattoo.”

“I wondered if that was supposed to be the Shika constellation on your back,” Nor said, and her cheeks flushed crimson as Fletcher turned his mischievous grin on her. Speaking quickly, probably for fear of Fletcher saying something untoward, she stuttered over her words. “You have quite—a lot—you have quite a few tattoos.”

And before I could stop him, though I knew what was coming, Fletcher turned to the woman beside him. Not even darting his eyes toward me, he asked, “What does the tattoo on his ass look like? Please, I’m begging you. I know it’s a letter, but what does it stand for?”

Innocent as a babe in comparison to the blond elven man, Nor’s eyes widened at his words.

“I don’t know!” she shrieked, mouth agape as she turned her gaze on me. “I mean, I haven’t—I don’t know what it stands for because I have not seen it!”

Panicking, I said the first thing to distract Fletcher from his line of questioning. Was I rescuing Nor or myself? “It is absolutely not possible that Tannyl is a descendent of Iemis. Where are your antlers?”

And it worked. Within an instant, Fletcher was rambling on about his ancestry. Releasing a sigh, I decided to find myself the drink I’d so desperately needed a few moments prior.

“Praise the old gods and the new,” I murmured.

Fletcher told anyone and everyone about how his great-great-great-grandfather was the product of an affair between Prince Tannyl’s younger brother and a mortal handmaiden. As far as being a descendent of the forestborn god of legend, I was less convinced. His family was one of the only lines which focused on continuing to marry amongst those with elven-blood, determined not to let their species die out. It was why his ears were so noticeably pointed and why he’d been so adept at using magick. He’d already taught Nor a few things while down in the tunnel, but I was eager for her to learn more once we arrived at Nara’s Cove. The more she knew, the easier it would be to protect herself.

Detachedly, I glanced over at them while I waited for the innkeeper, watching Fletcher talk excitedly about the heirlooms his family had held onto over the years. The weight in my stomach returned when I began thinking about little tow-headed babies with sad, hazel eyes who chewed their lips while they concentrated and fidgeted when they were uncomfortable.

Divine fucking hell.

“This all you want tonight? You sure you don’t want stew?” the innkeeper asked, drawing my attention. Eyeing the cooking pot hanging in the giant hearth, I sucked my teeth. I’d had a bite of Fletcher’s stew when I’d come downstairs, and it left quite a bit to be desired. There was hardtack in the room I’d rather eat.

“I’m sure,” I said, and then jumped as a light touch caressed my back.

“Sorry,” Nor whispered, standing on her tiptoes to rest her chin on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you, husband.” A smile threatened the edges of her pursed lips, and they seemed just as kissable as they had been an hour before when I was wrapped in a towel with her in arm’s reach. When we were both sitting on a bed and much better suited to reacquaint our mouths.

I needed to stay far the fuck away from her. What was I thinking?

“I’m going to go up,” she said, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear. Bold, she was, with a lie to explain why she touched me like this. I wasn’t fool enough to think she’d have such inclination if we weren’t playing a role.

The two of us were always pretending at something we weren’t. But she’d shed the Myriad like an outgrown shirt and was learning to be something else—somethingtrue. Ending the bond with Lavenia was one of the most honest things I’d done in a while, but I wasn’t sure if that counted for much. Still, though. Being around Nor made me want to figure it out. Which was dangerous in itself.

Every muscle in my body seized as she pressed a kiss to my cheek. And when she lingered, waiting for my reaction, I refused to let myself move. Despite every instinct telling me to turn and fold her into my arms, to give her a real gods damned kiss, I mustered every bit of self-control I’d ever had and stood still. When she pulled away, the bergamot scent of her hair and the ginger of her salve lingered in my nostrils.

“Go to bed, pigeon,” I said, trying to hide her affect on me.

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