Page 80 of A Song of Air
He blinked, though showed no surprise at her question. She wondered if he even felt it at all. “Because they are the High Lord and Lady of the Gold Court.”
Bryson reeled back at that information, her gaze jerking in Corvina’s direction. She stared at the woman, at her son, and she was sure confusion clouded her every feature. The sunlight kissed her golden hair and made her skin almost shimmer, like she was shrouded in a halo of gold. Even with her hazy vision, Bryson could see how ethereal Corvina was.
“High Lady?” she echoed, turning back to Weylyn. “You’re sure?”
His lips pressed into a line of amusement. “Her father was the High Lord, and with his passing, it is now Basil’s title.”
“I’ve never met a High Lord or Lady,” she confessed. Then again, she hadn’t met princes or kings either.
“There is another High Lord among us.” Weylyn dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning into her, gold eyes flashing. “High Lord Clay Valentino of the Sapphire Court.” He leaned back once again. “I suppose with Uric being the only known living heir to the High Lord of the Obsidian Court, he counts as well.”
The image of the pale skinned, silver-haired demon flashed into her mind. She couldn’t picture him as High Lord of anything, though the fact that he hailed from the Obsidian Court made sense. They were known for their silent brutality.
“I guess I should start calling Clay ‘my lord’ now?” she teased, finding the words easy to slip from her tongue.
“He is quite pompous and would enjoy it far too much.”
Bryson pushed out a breath. “So, you’re from the Gold Court...”
There was a beat of silence in which Weylyn didn’t answer. His gaze was hot on her skin, caressing every inch before they flicked back up to her face. A slow smile curled his mouth. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
That explained his high regard when it came to them, though she’d also noticed, from what little she’d been able to observe, that he did not treat the Seelie Prince with that same respect. If anything, they all kept their distance.
She wanted to ask, but didn’t voice it. Asking would mean an insight into his mind, and that wasn’t something she wanted at all. If anything, she needed to get away from him. His proximity made her forget herself. It worried her how quickly he could crumble her resolve, how quickly she could fall into conversation with him. How quickly he could pull her in and make her forget.
That was a dangerous thing.
His eyes flickered, gold to white and back to gold again. His braid swayed as he stepped forward.
Bryson stepped back and away from him, putting necessary distance between them. Whatever friendship he thought they’d developed on this little outing was useless. Bryson didn’t trust him. And looking at him just reminded her of her own betrayals and cleaved something in her chest in ways she didn’t understand.
Weylyn froze when he saw Bryson stepping away from him. His jaw clenched a single moment before he relaxed it, assuming a careless, sarcastic air.
Bryson almost wondered if he’d crowd into her space, push his way inside her mind, force himself into everything she did. She wouldn’t be so merciful if he did.
But Weylyn merely straightened. “Thank you, Bryson Varik,” he whispered, “for your assistance in finding the little lord.”
She took a steadying breath and tried to calm the rapid rhythm of her beating heart. “No thanks are needed,” she said. “Goodbye.”
“Hmm.” He hummed and took a few more steps back, though he didn’t take his gaze off her.
She couldn’t stand it. The more he looked her way, the more she envisioned what had happened between them. Perhaps it hadn’t been truly physical; they hadn’t touched, but it still felt very real. She’d allowed it to persist, allowed him entrance to her body and thoughts.
Bryson wrenched her gaze away from him and whirled to storm away. Her feet nearly skidded on the ground as she caught sight of Everette up ahead.
She’d been so lost within the cloying scent of Weylyn that it had overpowered Ev’s completely.
Tears burned behind her eyelids, and she shoved those away and marched on.
“Bryce—” Everette reached for her, but she shifted away before he could touch her.
She couldn’t stand the thought of his skin against hers, and she hated the look of hurt she put on his face, and the look that would come after he found out the truth.
“Not now, Ev,” she whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear her voice crack. “I’ll find you later, okay?” She didn’t wait for his reply before she was running away, off to find something else to do that would keep her mind occupied and off what she’d done, the truth she’d have to face, and the feelings it provoked deep inside her chest.
Oh, Bryson,her familiar’s voice drifted through her head, filled with sympathy, sorrow.
Not now,Bryson thought back. She didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t need to.
