Page 32 of Courting War
Kellyn gulped, fixated. In Theoden, it wasn’t proper for a lady to wear her hair down. It must always be properly pinned in place. This would be scandalous under most circumstances. Kellyn wasn’t proper per se, he had bedded more than his fair share of ladies, but he wasn’t used to watching a woman undo her hair so slowly and so seductively—usually, he loosed it for them in the heat of passion right before he fucked them. He hadn’t known how much not touching someone could be so . . . enticing. The sight was utter torture because he couldn’t do anything about it. Several improper sensations passed through his body and shifted uncomfortably, his mind latching onto a forbidden—and foolish—desire. He wanted to run his fingers through her silky strands and kiss along her dainty neck. What would her flesh feel like against his coarse, calloused hands?
He wanted to silence her rage with a good fuck, but that was foolishness. Fucking his priestess could only lead to terrible consequences—not to mention he was pretty sure she would devour him as a praying mantis did to its lovers. She was the deadly one here.
Kellyn cleared his throat and shook out his hands. He needed to get a hold of himself.
Remembering his place as a gentleman, Kellyn coughed, stood up, averted his gaze, and shifted his legs again. He stared at the mess on the floor, trying to get his thoughts off the priestess, who was far too alluring for her good.
Her eyes flicked to him, and she said, “They’re spies. They report back to the gods; some even act as two-way mirrors, allowing the gods to see into private moments and rooms. They also record the games and display them worldwide on magical mirrors like that one there.” She pointed to the mirror on the wall.
He knew about the mirrors, having watched the games in Theoden as a boy, but he never knew how the gods received the images.
“If you would turn around, I would like to change.”
Kellyn pivoted, facing the wall, trying not to think aboutwhat she was doing. He added equations in his head and pulled his chisel and wood from his pocket. With the blade’s tip, he formed Theodic knots into the lovespoon. The design formed a shield knot with endless loops representing eternal love, loyalty, and protection from battle. It was one of the Goddess of War’s symbols and one of the major symbols in Theoden.
Kellyn was drawn to forming Theodic knots because the image embodied an unbreakable bond, and there was nothing more important to him than loyalty. Once his loyalty was solidified, he’d do everything to protect the bond—it would never break . . . never shatter.
Which was why the fracture in his friendship with Emmett was so painful.
“You can turn around now,” the woman said. She wore a light pink—nearly sheer—cotton nightgown. Lace hemmed the sleeves and the train. Her face was framed with loose, bouncing raven curls, and she looked almost sweet, but cruelty still lingered in her bones. There was a hardness in the lines of her cheeks and the set of her jaw.
“What’s your name?” Kellyn asked softly, not wanting to scare her off. He needed something to call her by. She couldn’t just be a priestess.
She cocked her head, and a storm of thoughts crossed her sapphire eyes—like a silent picture show. But none of the emotions were distinguishable to him. After a long while, she finally said, “Morrigan.”
“Morrigan,” he repeated, playing with the sound on his tongue. “Nice to officially meet you.”
She nodded, eying him as she pulled the covers and slid into the bed. She rolled over on her side, her back to him.
Kellyn gawked at the bed for a moment, unsure what to do. “Shouldn’t we try to solve the riddle and start the first task? Most of the others will have already started.”
She rolled over and tugged the covers even higher. “It is foolish to face the gods unrested.”
Kellyn simply stood, watching. He had no answers. He ran afinger over his riddle again, hoping that doing so would help him with it.
It was useless, and Morrigan was right. Rest would do him good.
But he couldn’t join her in the bed. It just wasn’t done. It was a terrible idea, especially considering the lust he felt coursing through his veins when he looked at her.
Kellyn grunted.
Morrigan huffed. “Join me already. I promise not to bite.”
Kellyn froze. He absolutely couldn’t. It was indecent. Ungentlemanly. His heart raged in his chest like a hummingbird in a cage.
“Then sleep on the floor,” she said with a hiss. “I don’t care.”
He swallowed.
He’d sleep in the common room. Except as he opened the door and tried to walk through, his wrist burned, and an invisible chain shimmered in the air—solidifying momentarily. He tracked its length and saw the other end circled Morrigan’s wrist.
God magic.
An invisible chain bound them together.
This was new. He’d never seen it happen in any Sacrifice before.
Which meant leaving was not an option. If he wanted to rest, he’d have to join her in the bed because she ruined the floor. Kellyn took three tentative steps and removed his House Ellis tartan vest before placing it on a bedside table.
