Yes.
A million words but I have no tongue to speak them.
I pluck a plump, purple grape off a gnarled stem. “Nope,” I reply, slipping the fruit into my mouth and biting down. Saccharine liquid explodes across my tongue, and I let out a soft, purposeful moan as I chew ... nice and slow.
His fingertips strum against the tabletop, eyes hardening a little more with each precise beat.
I wonder if he can see the challenge in my stare—wonder how it feels to have the shoe on the other foot for a change?
“Is that nice?” he asks, toying with the question.
“Positivelydelicious.” I pop another in my mouth and watch the muscle in his jaw feather. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Lie.
I’m not even hungry, and this grape is threatening to turn my stomach inside out. Honestly, that bread roll was the best thing I’ve ever tasted, but I’m not about to tell him that. Not when he was the one who handed it to me in the first place.
“I’m so glad.” He tips to the side, reaches under his chair, and straightens before he lumpsTe Bruk o’ Avalansteonto the table between us with a hefty thud.
I almost choke as icy shame slams into me and turns my muscles stiff.
Shit.
I should really stop snooping around his castle before he boots me out on my ass. Or perhaps that’s exactly what he’s about to do.
“I thought I’d return your ...weapon.”
Gaze lifting slower than a rising sun, I almost wither under the weight of his scrutiny.
A waiting calm sits between us—a breath held hostage while Rhordyn reclines in his chair, chin on the balled-up pedestal of his fist. That stare intensifies, sending a droplet of sweat rushing down the length of my spine.
“I-broke-into-a-storage-room-below-ground,” I blurt, the words a hot coal spat off my tongue.
“I’m aware. I had the window replaced yesterday.”
Crap.
“Oh,” I squeak, cheeks burning, though it might be from the fire blazing at my back, assaulting me with its sudden, relentless heat.
“And tell me,” he purrs, planting his elbows on the table. “Did you get a chance in your very busy schedule to have a read?”
Baze clears his throat.
“Just a little bit.” I instantly regret my understatement when that raven brow almost jumps off his perfectly rendered face. “Three times. I flicked through it three times with a fine-toothed comb before I took it down to Kai to decipher some of the language.”
I stamp a hand over my mouth.
Oops.
Rhordyn peers down the table for the briefest moment, pinning Baze with a guarded look that’s impossible to decipher.
He pushes to a stand, the movement akin to the draw of a sword. “And tell me,” he grits out, retrieving the book and prowling around the table, strong thighs tensing with each assaulting step.
Te Bruk o’ Avalanstethumps on the tabletop beside my plate, and I squirm as his hands connect with the back of my chair. “Do you believe anything in there, Orlaith? Do you believe sprites were made fromfallen leaves?”
I release a shuddered breath, feeling like the room is too small, too hot. Although Rhordyn’s blocking the fire’s boisterous flames, it’s not enough.
I’m going to burn.
