One
Jaromir
My knuckles hesitate an inch from the polished door separating me from my mate. I’ve been trying to knock for the last fifteen minutes, but every time I do…
“No. But I should be able to charge into battle if I damn well want to!”Pause.“You did it!”Pause.“No. Don’t bring Caed into this!”
To anyone who doesn’t know Rose, it might seem like she’s having a one-sided argument with thin air. Unfortunately, I’m well aware that there are three ghostly queens in that room with her, and it makes interrupting them even more daunting.
My wolf whines in my head. He was already annoyed by the bitter, foul-tasting potion Kitarni made us drink this morning. Now our mate is angry, setting him on edge.
I drop my hand and pace the upstairs corridor of Marlen’s small temple for the hundredth time. Drystan was the one who physically scooped her up and dragged her away from Elfhame last night, but I didn’t stop him. In fact, I agree with him.
As Nicnevin, Roseispowerful, but she’snotready to fight a war against the Fomorians. Not to save a city we planned to retreat from anyway, and not until she has a solid mastery of her magic.
Every single time our little queen is within a hundred feet of violence, she dies. I have no desire to see the three lines decorating my palm multiply.
Legend says Nicnevin Maeve’s Guards had so many lines that they covered both sides of their hands. I fear if Rose carries on like this, we’ll suffer the same fate.
“I can’t spend the whole war learning to read! Why is everyone so against me doing anythinguseful?!”
Her exasperation bleeds through the door, and I can just picture her staring down her guides with a fire she rarely feels confident enough to show anyone else.
Shifting my weight from side to side, I try to shake off the discomfort that comes with eavesdropping on her conversation, but I can’t help it when she’s being so loud and my hearing is so sensitive.
Rose needs to leave that room so we can get on our way. Her pilgrimage should already have started, and I have no doubt that Drystan is downstairs getting grouchier with every minute that we’re delayed. I raise my hand again, determined to knock. Hesitate. Drop my hand. Raise it again—
Pale white fingers close over my fist, using my shocked state to rap my knuckles against the wood before I can stop myself.
“You’re welcome,” Lore singsongs, blinking away before I can growl at him.
The door opens, and I hastily rearrange my features into what I hope is a suitably apologetic expression. My wolf reaches out and yanks my head down. I can’t resist, and I get the sense that had I tried, he would’ve forced a shift and rolled over to expose his belly.
“Sorry, my lady, but they’re waiting.”
Rose sighs in aggravation, running a hand through the stray strands of her hair. “I’m ready.”
My gaze travels up, following the line of her calves and up past the laces of her bodice to finally meet her tired eyes. Did she even sleep last night? She should be resting, especially in her condition. Cursing the fact that we have to make her travel at all for the thousandth time, I offer her my arm, only to freeze as I take a breath and inadvertently get a lungful of her scent.
Ordinarily, my mate smells of sweet floral candy, but her natural perfume is deepening, gaining hints of a rich honey which makes my mouth water and my teeth ache.
It’s only going to get worse.
Her fever is only a week away. My wolf prowls in my mind, wanting to break free and rub my scent all over her as a warning to anyone who might try to get too close. Suddenly, the idea of bringing her downstairs, where other fae can smell her, seems stupid. Why should we? We could just back her up into that room, splay her out on the bed, and…
Rose, oblivious to my struggle, takes my arm and lets me lead her down the tidy temple corridor. As we walk, she scratches absently at her neck, the corners of her mouth turning down.
“So, are we going to talk about it?”
“It?” I echo dully, staring at her lips without really comprehending what she’s saying.
She stops, and I glance at her eyes, only to grimace at the resentment burning in their purple depths.
“I guess not.”
“Rosie.” I bite my lip. “I can’t read your mind.” I wish I could.
“I wanted to stay in Elfhame and help, but you stood there and let Drystan manhandle me like a sack of potatoes.”
