Unable to bear the thought of him being alone, I finally join his side, letting him lead me into the kitchen for a night of merriment.
I thought I’d sobered up, but it turns out that I’m still pretty drunk. Webothare, and I would have assumed that Tegwyn would have had at least some level of tolerance where alcohol consumption was concerned.
He throws me down into a splintered chair, disappearing into an alcove inside the wall. He curses inside, tossing out various pots andpans of shining bronze, and when he re-emerges, an impish smile etched on his face, he lifts a bottle of blood-red wine.
My head swirls just looking at it. “No. No moreFaewine.”
He chuckles, grabbing two ceramic cups despite my protests. “Relax. It’s just human wine, unfortunately.”
While that does make me feel better, faerie wine or not, I’m still too drunk to drink any more, still too sick.
“I stole this bottle off a cargo ship two years ago. Imported fromthesouth.So, it should be good.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is there anything you own that isn’t stolen?”
He barks a laugh, leaning down to poke my nose. “My, you really are on fire tonight.”
Tegwyn pours the wine into a cup, handing it over to me. I meet my reflection inside.
The wine almost reminds me of the red of Lord Valent’s eyes, and I whimper, spilling my drink.
Tegwyn steadies me by wrapping his gloved fingers around my wrist, and he doesn’t pry or judge. He actually appears…angry.But not with me.
His teeth grind, as if he’s trying to restrain himself a great deal. His claws are drawn, yet they never cut me.
“Ivy…he won’t ever find you again.”
I shut my eyes, and I can’t help it this time. A tear slips past my lashes, and I wipe it away, not wanting him to see me cry.
“How…how do you know that?”
He looks at me pointedly, yellow eyes boring into my soul. “Because if he does…I willkillhim...”
His irises glow at the wordkill, making the breath whoosh from my lungs.
And he would, too, and I dare not think about what those claws of his are truly capable of.
As if sensing my thoughts, he lets go of my wrist, raising his drink. “A toast to Lord Valent. May his face be forever charred...”
The faerie goes to sip his wine, but I take his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Thank you for fighting for me. No one has ever stood up for me like that before. You were so brave, so…selfless.”
He blinks in utter confusion, and if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks redden. Then he yanks on his silly cravat and mutters, “Just holding up my end of the bargain.”
I smile this time, grabbing my own drink. “If you say so.”
Tegwyn hikes a brow. “What are you implying?”
I give a discreet shrug, and soon the cave starts spinning as I sip the wine.
We laugh at nothing, and at one point we twirl around the kitchen, crashing into various things. It turns out that faeries really are as useless as humans when drunk. Tegwyn can barely function.
By the night’s end, he’s tucking me into bed, placing me down onto the soft mattress. The heather twigs crunch beneath my weight, bringing up a lovely smell, and I sigh.
The bed is really comfortable.
When I shut my eyes, drifting off to sleep, I swear I hear the ocean.
“Go to sleep,” he demands, sounding far away.
