Page 19 of The Path of Blood and Betrayals
Gulping the wine, I watch as the twins pull him to the dance floor.
Behind him is the woman who has captivated me since my arrival.
When I arrived, my mind whirled with possible needs: entryway points, weapons, routes and guards stationed should things go south. But when I locked eyes with those oceanic blue orbs, the thoughts stopped. Everything quieted. It was as if she laid a blanket of calm over my mind and withdrew the air in my lungs.
As that has never happened to me before, it’s made her…intriguing, to saythe least.
I don’t know what to make of it. Make ofher.
The Witch reluctantly goes, pulled into a complicated dance that has his partners laughing. He spins the twin girls, and they move further into the crowd, leaving the woman alone.
Growling under my breath, I drop the chalice with a solid plop. ForBel’sfiery sake, what is he thinking?
This place is not safe for females: Witch,Fae, Human, or other. In this court men rule, and women are thought of as little more than stock. Like that of a cow to be milked or a sheep to be shorn, they serve only one purpose—to be used by men.
Glancing to the Blackwoods Coven guards stationed at the back, I bite back my insults. They’re old, uncomfortable in their armor. Are they guards or Witches pretending? They’ll be of no use in helping the woman.
Fee adjusts next to me, her gown tight and uncomfortable. She grumbled the entire time changing, our rooms connected by one sitting area.
My eyes cut to her. “What?”
“This place. It doesn’t feel right.” Her mouth barely moves. “And it’s too hot. My skin feels like it’s on fire.”
“You always feel like you’re on fire,” Reid quips, earning a quick slap from our sister. Placed between us, she has full access to hit either of us. “It feels good in here. Like home. Maybe you’re just getting old and can’t handle the temperature change?”
My brother is almost a century younger than Fee and I, making him so much more immature and innocent. Unlike him, we were trained to be warriors since birth.
I was beaten into submission. Fee was tortured into it. By sheer luck, our father ignore him.
As such, I raised Reid, training him the proper way. He’s adequate with a sword, but better with his daggers. Because of that, I’ve earned Reid’s loyalty. And I’ve earned Fee’s due to shared trauma.
It’s why both of them were chosen to attend with me. That and I don’t trust leaving them behind at the palace without me there to protect them.
“What have you heard?” Fee asks, kicking our brother. Wincing, his smile doesn’t falter. He lives to irritate her. “From the crowd?”
“Resentment, hatred. The usual disdain.” My eyes find the woman again. The purple she wears gleams against the firelight, highlighting her thick curves and wide hips. But her lips? They’re a spot of red against a creamy white face. It’s the kind of face armies would be sent to war over. “What do we know about theBlackwoodsCoven?”
She snorts. “Not much. They keep to themselves. They rarely trade and they don’t speak to Fae. Most of the Covens hide among their kind. Their ruler, Nessa, died three years ago and the daughter took over. People consider her to be a strong leader, though brash. Her brother holds no power, but due to being a twin, is considered the second. Everyone says he defers to her.”
“I wonder what that’s like?” Reid quips, earning a reproachful glare from Fee.
“There’s rumors that the brother can heal with touch,” Reid continues, calling over a servant. He winks when she places a new cup in front of him. “They say his hands can mend any wound.”
I tilt my head, mind spinning even as my eyes stay on the woman at the outskirts of the dance floor.Magic? No one has magic in this world.
Well, no one except for me.
The woman shifts again, nursing a chalice, eyes darting to the large fireplace by her side. She keeps away, sidestepping it, as if the flames will leap out and take her into the hearth.
But I see it—the fear in her eyes. It taints the air as I inhale—deliciously sweet, though curious. What does this delicate kitten have to fear from the flames?
Then, as if a torch as been lit, she stands taller, spine straight. She gives one final glance to the dance floor, watching her companion tower over the crowd before she strides toward a door.
A servant’s entrance that I only discovered hours earlier, she all but throws herself into the hall, the door shutting behind her with a silent finality that causes my jawto clench.
On fuckingBel’sfiery balls, she can’t be this stupid. It’s too dangerous here for females to be without escorts and she just delivered herself to a male on a silver platter. Does she have no self-preservation skills?
Fuck, I shouldn’t care that she just ran away. She’s not my responsibility, but something compels me to notice. Tocare. And I hate it.
