Page 59 of Werewolves Don't Howl
“I haven’t done this since I was a child. There was no throwing. What if I throw you too hard and break your neck?”
I laughed breathlessly while the song of his night magic sang in my ear. “Then you should probably put me down.”
“But you’re barefoot, and might step on something disagreeable.”
I cocked my head and studied him. “In that case, we should definitely stay here all night, just like this.”
“Don’t you think I’ll get tired?”
“Of course not. You’re an elven lord. You were born for this.”
“I’m not an elven lord. My father is not what I am.”
“The lines of nobility come from the strength of their magic. If you have the magic, you have the nobility.”
“Your father’s magic was very strong. His house was noble.”
“You’re subtly saying that I’m the one who should be holding you in the air during this brilliant dance. Don’t tempt me. You would make such a pretty pet. My beast would throw you, too.”
He slowly lowered me to the ground and headed back to the wagon, leaving me standing there, staring after him and his abrupt abandonment. It’s like he didn’t want to think about dancing with my beast. That made two of us. Two out of four wasn’t bad. I quickly pulled on my shoes and followed him.
He waited by the wagon, then lifted me up to set me on the bench, like it was still part of the dance. “Your strength came back to you?” I asked, waiting for him to release the brake and swing up beside me.
“If I were courting you in earnest, we would stay in that field all night.”
The ponies were walking, slowly at first, then picking up speed. “But you’re the best at playing a part, so why did you stop dancing?”
“I’m not sure how to play the part while maintaining a respectful distance.”
“Ah. That does sound difficult.” I patted his knee. “Don’t worry. We couldn’t spend all night in the field, because my brothers would come and find us. Did you meet Bram? He’s the worst. He’d sit and talk to you until you were desperate to escape. You’d say anything, just to stop. The. Talking.”
“He sounds like a truly ominous figure.”
“Absolutely. Do you want to try to drive the ponies again?”
“I suppose I should learn something so essential.”
I handed over the reins and then put my head on his shoulder. They were just the right height, and broad, firm, no boniness in sight. I closed my eyes and let the music sweep over me that still trailed from his magic. What a strange, subtle spell for an assassin to learn: how to make the night into music. He was like that, though, particularly at night in his garden. He was music in the night.
When we reached the barn, my brothers were there, including Bram, the oldest.
“Delphi,” he said warmly, pulling me off the wagon and into a hug. “You’re too skinny. Go inside while we help your Cross with the ponies.”
I stared into those warm brown eyes. “Be gentle with him. He’s an elf.”
He snorted and set me on my feet. “He’s got to prove his mettle. He can’t do that if we’re too easy on him.”
I glanced at Cross where he’d swung down and was examining the leather reins. “Will you be okay?” I asked, but I wasn’t worried about my brothers being too rough. If he was a night lord, bred for brutality, they might be in danger from him. Of course they were. He was the leader of the House of Mercy. And to think I’d tried to get him to dance with me in a beet field. What was wrong with me?
Cross took me in his arms while I was still feeling like an idiot, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then released me, so I stumbled back. “Good night, Delphinia. Dream well.”
My brothers chortled and elbowed each other. “Oh, he’s smooth. Delphi’s blushing!” and, “What kind of dreams make you blush that hard?”
I turned and left the barn before I killed all my brothers. Or Cross. He was playing the role of suitor, but not too much because he didn’t want me to get confused, but I was anyway. I hated him. But sometimes, I almost liked him, too. There was nothing more dangerous than liking someone who could hurt you that much.
The next day was spent cooking and cleaning and avoiding my mother’s subtle observations about how beautiful Cross’s babies would be. Happily, she never said that while he was in obvious hearing distance. Even my father helped with the dinner preparations, which was convenient because no one peeled root vegetables as quickly as he did. I think that was the basis for my mother’s romance.
Finally, everything was set on the tables in the orchard, the cherries heavy in the trees above the dozens of long tables draped in fruit and flowers. Bram had been building them for the last six months along with the rough metal chandeliers hanging from all the lowest branches.
