Page 113 of Amidst the Insidious Courts
I stop as a familiar black ponytail flicks in the corner of my eye.
By the time I turn, a shout bubbling in my throat, the ghost is gone. I glance at Jaro’s head, moving away in the crowd, then back at the spot where I could’ve sworn I saw…
I should follow Rose, but then… No. There’s no ‘but.’ I’m following Rose, not some figment of my imagination. Turning, I hasten after them, rubbing my hand over Espen’s tattoo on my forearm as I go.
My tongue flicks out, forked. A thousand times more sensitive to smell than my nose.
A second later, in the back of my mouth, the familiar sharpness of sloe gin hits me, followed by the subtler pine scent of rosin from his fiddle bow beneath it.
Only one person has that scent. I’ll never forget it. Even when the male in question should be dead.
Torrance Lyarthorn. Once renowned as the best bard in all five courts. And… my father.
Thirty-Five
Rhoswyn
The servant who walks us to our room is a high fae with bland features who refuses to answer my questions with anything but the shortest answers. I’m not sure if it’s the sweet scent of the flowers around my neck, or the delicious wine I had to force myself to sip slowly, but my head feels a little woozy, and my breasts are aching.
Wraith nips at Lore’s heels, and the redcap frowns. “Still hungry, puppy? Shall we see if any of those nobles are willing to provide a midnight snack?”
And before anyone can say anything to stop him, he’s gone.
“Damn redcap,” Drystan growls. “I’m going to—” He cuts off strangely, then looks at Jaro. “You have this?”
Jaro pushes ahead of me, his shoulders set in a determined cast. “I’ll sweep her room for strange scents. Don’t worry about it.”
They exchange those masculine chin nods before Drystan spins on his heel and takes off on his latest attempt to corral Lore.
Surely, by now, he should’ve realised that the redcap is uncontrollable.
He’s gone before I can point out the futility of his actions, leaving the three of us to step into my room.
Jaro gets to work, opening windows and closets, nostrils flaring as he searches for some threat. Now that we’re not staying in the temple, he’s clearly on high alert. I don’t blame him. Staying in Eero’s palace makes me uncomfortable.
Without thinking, I step up behind Jaro and hug my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back.
He stiffens, and I sigh. “I’m sorry. I just… I miss you.” I pause, summoning my courage. “Would you make love to me?”
The pained whine that tears from his throat has me releasing him, apologies springing to my lips, but he turns and crushes my mouth with his before I can utter a single syllable.
His hands claw my back, fisting in my tunic with a wild desperation that makes me melt. Claws sever the straps of my armour, and it falls to the tiled floor with a loud clang that neither of us notice. The prick of wolf canines scrapes lightly against my tongue, and I moan a little at the added sense of danger it brings.
Yes.This. I missed this.
All too suddenly, he yanks away, shoulders heaving as his eyes flash with the presence of his wolf.
“Púca,” he growls. “Guard her.”
For the second time in as many days, Jaro flees the room.
I fall to the bed, the thin covers crinkling beneath my weight, as I stare at the space where he stood, seconds ago. Did I do something?
No. He was kissing me like he would die if he didn’t. This isn’t a me problem. I refuse to believe it.
“He is dealing with the aftermath of Aiyana’s trial,” Bree says, breaking the silence. “I… I don’t wish to break his trust, but he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
I nod, pulling the wreath of flowers from my neck and throwing it in the direction of the dressing table without care.
