Page 20 of Courting the Fae Captain
My brows lifted in surprise. “Your little show of power, that was for me?”
He stepped closer again, until all six-foot-something of him was towering over me. “Despite what you might think, I don’t go around breaking females’ limbs for the fun of it.”
“You wouldn’t be the first male to do so,” I pointed out.
“I am not the Pentad,” he said in a low voice. “I do not condone the killing of females for sport. I would have thought that was obvious by now, given my mission. I don’t want to hurtany females; I want to help them. I will, however, do what I must to protect my interests.”
A tendril of shadow seeped out from his finger, curling around my body in lazy but tight spirals. I eyed off the threat slowly, then looked him in the eye. “Before you decide to get all murderous, I might have a lead.” I cocked my head, considering. “First, have all of the past Rites taken place at this castle?”
Raithe lifted a hand to his stubbled chin. “For a long time, yes, but not always. The earliest Rites were held in nature, back when our kind had not long sailed to this land, and the courts weren’t yet established. We hadn’t met our gods then, nor did we have our dark powers.”
I waved a hand. “An astute history lesson, but in the last 200 years, for example, they took place here at Castle Cliffscote?”
“I believe so. Why is this important?”
“My mother took part in the Rite,” I said softly. “She would have been at this very castle fighting for her life.”
The creeping shadow seemed to pause, then loosen ever so slightly, almost like it was caressing me now. “I would have been training in the navy whilst her Rite took place…” Raithe cocked his head. “I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with your father multiple times, given his command over the merchant routes in Domeratt and thereby the seas in which my navy resides, but I don’t recall meeting your mother.”
“You wouldn’t have. She disappeared when I was a child. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
Raithe’s eyes darkened. “You don’t say.”
I took a deep breath and brushed the pain aside. I couldn’t go there right now, least of all with a stranger, so I redirected the subject. “I need you to show me to the castle archives.”
His brow raised. “You’re hunting for evidence from when she was here? To what end?”
“My mother loved working with herbs and tinctures, so I’m betting she would have been posted in this apothecary. There might be something useful in the records. She also?—”
“Records which have no bearing on the present,” he interrupted, his shadow pulsing in warning. He stepped closer until his chest was flush with mine, then curled a wave of my hair around his finger. “My patience is wearing thin, little lark.”
I glared up at him. “If you’d let me finish, you big brute, I was going to say she also liked to journal. She would hide them in a panel beneath her bed back home so Father wouldn’t find them. If my hunch is right, she would have kept a journal here, too. I’m betting there’d be some interesting observations in it.” At his blank expression, I continued, “I need to find out which room she stayed in so I can search for her journals. Journals filled with helpful information, perhaps even secrets the Pentad wouldn’t want known. If we’re really lucky, possible locations for enslaved females?”
“You’re reaching.” His shadows receded, but he tilted my chin up. “But consider my interest piqued. I’ll take you to the archives, but if your search comes up empty…”
“I’ll have you to worry about,” I retorted, slapping his hand away. “You’ve made your point. Now, which way to the archives?”
Raithe laughed. “Oh, no, little lark. This isn’t a trip we can take during the day. Too many eyes watching. The guards would search you on your way out, not to mention the questions that would arise from my accompanying you. The Bridegroom isn’t supposed to have favourites. Not at this stage of the Wedding Rite, at least. I’ll come for you at midnight. Ensure that you’re ready.”
“How do you—?” He was gone before I could finish my sentence.
With an amused shake of my head, I finished making the sleeping tonic, taking the liberty to craft a special vial for myself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fennigal Root is a hardy little herb that thrives in mossy, moist conditions—often hidden beneath rotting roots and stumps. Take care when administering, else the consumer might find themselves missing more than a mere few hours.
An Alchemist’s Guide to Herbal Remedies
The knock on my door came at midnight on the dot, and I let Raithe into my room wordlessly, closing the door behind him. His lips curved as he apprised me from head to toe.“The leathers suit you, little lark.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I admitted softly.
He really, really wasn’t. The captain was dressed in all black, the occasional silver glint gleaming off his sheathed blades from the light of my bedside candle. In the low firelight, his muscled frame looked softened somehow, like this was the male without his mask.
I stiffened as he stepped closer, his hand reaching for my braid, and ran it down the blonde locks just once. He chuckled at my reaction, but his face turned serious as he looked me in the eyes. Gods, why did it have to feel so intimate when he looked at me like that? So close, with eyes like sapphires. A silly, illogical part of me wanted to know their secrets, but I looked away, careful to gaze at anything but his face as he tucked my braid under the hood of my tunic.
Oh.I had thought touching me was rather forward, but it was out of practicality. I guessed he preferred not to have any identifiable traits showing, should I be seen. My cheeks burned, but I bit my tongue and kept a straight face. When he was finished tucking it away, he held my shoulders, capturing my attention once more. “There will be guards patrolling the castle, with two posted at the archive entrance. You ready for this?”
