A thread of wickedness wrapped around her heart and she slid her palm down his hard, flat belly until she reached the bulge in his breeches. “You don’t?”
“Greedy little rabbit,” he growled, tugging at her braid. He picked her up and set her on the table. “Stay.”
Her feet swung in the air. She watched in amazement as he picked up her bucket and began filling it with bones.
“You can get on your knees, but I can’t?” she teased as she watched him.
The look he gave her in return was quite solemn. “We will serve each other in different ways. I will take care of the ugly things and you the beautiful and sweet.”
“Why can’t I help you?” she asked, her eyes pricking with tears at his earnest expression. “I’m not some delicate flower. I’ve carried a lot of buckets.”
He washed up in the basin and then stood between her knees, grasping her hands in his. He kissed the tips of her fingers one by one. “These hands are for making things. Gardens and children and medicines. Mine are good for crushing windpipes. Which ones do you think should gather the bones, my love?”
Her tears brimmed over unbidden. “Your love?”
“You know I love you. Surely you can feel it.” He cupped her face in his hands, holding it there, waiting until she could soak in his emotions through the bond. His love was wrapped in something bitter, but it was sweet in the center and so tender it hurt.
“Your hands are more than weapons,” she whispered. “Look at them now. They are cradles, too. It’s my fault you weren’t here to hold our son in them when he was small enough to fit. Maybe that’s why you don’t know.”
He kissed her then, his tears falling on her cheeks and hers sliding between his fingers. When he pulled back, she was surprised to see him smiling. She raised a brow questioningly.
He smoothed a lock of her hair that had escaped its plait. “I was just thinking maybe we’ll have another. I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in you right now.”
She laughed, her spirits so light she might even be able to fly. “Who is the greedy one now?”
He scooped her from the tabletop and set her on the floor. Swatting her gently on the rear, he said, “I’ll meet you in the nesting chamber. I expect you to rid yourself of those garments while I rid us of these bones.”
She shook her head. “Let me go with you, at least. The keepers will be horrified to see you carrying the buckets. You’ll have to explain yourself a dozen times on the way to the burn pit.”
Grudgingly, he let her accompany him, though he still refused to let her haul the bones. It was their first time appearingtogether in the corridors of the Tower, and they drew the eyes of nearly every passerby.
“Traitor,” a gargoyle spat.
“What did you say?” Brandt snarled, stopping in his tracks to stare down the young guard.
“Ignore him.” Idabel caught Brandt’s wrist, urging him to keep walking. She was used to the word following her when she was alone, whispered or hissed or sometimes spoken boldly to her face like this. “They’re only words, and words don’t hurt unless you let them.”
He growled under his breath but followed her lead to the burn pit, where he poured the bucket out. She kept her head high on the way back, ignoring the looks and comments until a young gargoyle in armor deliberately clipped her with his wing, jolting her into the wall. He immediately disappeared into a knot of onlookers.
Brandt’s fury blazed through the bond as he whirled to face the group. “Who was that? Who touched my mate?”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go home.” Afraid he might get into a skirmish with all five or six of them, Idabel grabbed his belt and tried to turn him around. But Brandt was planted firm, ready to face the culprit.
“He assaulted you. He broke the heartstone vow. He needs to be expelled from the Tower.”
“He may have lost his friend or brother in the Sixth Watch. He has every right to his anger,” she said soothingly.
“That doesn’t give him the right to touch you.”
“It was probably an accident,” she fibbed. “Come now. Loïc might wake and find us missing.”
That, he could not argue with. But when they got home, he was still agitated, pacing the floor in circles around the nest instead of lying in it with her like he’d promised.
“There’s not much time until dawn,” she reminded him, patting the furs beside her. He sighed and joined her, wrapping his tail around her waist and anxiously fussing with her hair until she made him stop. It was like his mind couldn’t rest, so his body couldn’t either.
“What’s troubling you?” she finally asked, even though she had a good idea what it was.
“I don’t want them to hurt you.”
