Page 29 of Brimstone
What? I didn’t say a word. I didn’t eventhinkanything.
The left side of his mouth kicked up a touch.You didn’t need to. Your eyes are saying plenty.
Fuck.
You okay, Little Osha? You’ve gone red.
I’m fine. I’m over here, minding my own business. Areyoufine? You’re supposed to be listening to your friend, not accusingmeof things.
Oh, I’m listening to him.He lowered his eyes to his feet. A weightlessness pulled at my stomach when he looked back up at me from under ink-black lashes.It’s hard to concentrate on camp logistics when I can smell you across the room, though, Osha.
I was going to die of embarrassment.You cannot.
Across the room, I caught the flash of wickedly sharp canine as a suggestive smile parted Fisher’s lips.Be under no illusion, Little Osha. You areallI can smell.
He was exaggerating. But could he exaggerate? Did the Fae consider emphasizing the truth to be the same as lying? I made a mental note to look that up. For now, I found myself growing more convinced that he was telling the truth. Because I could smellhim, too.
Bruised herbs.
Citrus.
Smoke.
Leather.
Pine, and cold mountain air.
And underneath it all, the maddening scent of him—the scent that made him unique and mademewant to climb the fucking walls. A trace of pheromones that sent electricity zipping up the length of my spine and—
“Dinner is about to be served, mistress.”
Oh.
Archer was standing right in front of me. The top of the fire sprite’s head barely reached my stomach. He had no hair to speak of. His skin was made of blackened coal, and thin fissures snaked across his forehead and his cheeks, threads of what looked like embers burning within the depths of them. I’d never seen him wear clothes before, but tonight he had donned a thick hunter-green vest with gold buttons down the front that covered most of his rotund little belly.
“Wow. You’re looking very handsome tonight, Archer!” I stepped back, making a show of taking him in.
Archer beamed with pride. “Thank you, mistress. We normally have no need for clothes, but sometimes we dress nicely for special occasions.” He tugged at the bottom of the vest—or jerkin—proudly puffing out his chest. “We all consider your return to Cahlish a very special occasion indeed!”
“Well, thank you, Archer. That’s very sweet.”
The fire sprite held out his hands, gesturing for me to follow him as he crossed the dining room. When I’d first dined in this hall, Archer had damn near had a heart attack when he’d discovered me sitting in the seat on Fisher’s left—but that was precisely where he led me now, as he guided me to the table.
“Come, come. You must sit. It is custom, mistress. The lady of the house should be seated before the food is brought in.”
“Oh. Oh, I don’t think—you don’t need to call me mistress, Archer. I’m not the lady of the house.”
“Yes, you are.”
The words sent a bolt of panic through me. Fisher was behind me, and he’d heard every word.
“No other will ever claim this seat.” He said it matter-of-factly, drawing out the chair in question, gesturing for me to sit down. “From now on, youareLady of Cahlish.”
Archer made a little squeak of excitement, covering his mouth with his hand, the flames flickering within his otherwise black eyes flaring brightly.
Well, shit. I sat down. What choice did I have? If I didn’t, my legs were going to give out and dump me in the chair regardless.Don’t you think I have enough new titles for the time being?
Whatever do you mean?Fisher took his seat at the head of the table next to me, his expression carefully controlled as he took in those gathered around him in their respective seats.
