Page 30 of Immortal Game

“That’syour solution?” asked Shea.

“What did you expect?” Ciara asked crossly.

“I don’t know. Some kind of magic spell?”

Ciara, clearly, did not see fit to acknowledge this level of ignorance. “Hold very still. I will try not to flay you.”

Ciara slipped the blade beneath the vines binding them. Shea flinched at the slide of cold metal against her wrist. Ciara shot her a reproachful look before resuming her work, sawing at the thicker branches and neatly slicing through the thinnertendrils. As soon as Ciara freed them, Shea snatched her hand back and rubbed feeling back into her fingers.

“Now that that’s done…” Ciara wrinkled her nose. “You reek of peat. The servants should have already drawn a bath for me. You should take it.”

Shea did not need to be told twice.

The bathroom looked no better than the bedroom. As she drank in the open cosmetics littering the vanity and the spattered mirror, she laid aside any guilt about tracking dirt on the floors.

Shea peeled off her mud-stained clothes, then climbed into the tub. The luxuriant heat of the water drew a contented sigh from her lips. Golden apple blossoms floated atop the surface, casting their faint, dreamy glow onto her face. For the first time in days, she felt almost at peace. She let her eyes flutter closed.

A low growl emanated from the shadows.

Shea went rigid with fear. Tentatively, Shea called, “Ciara?”

No response came. Shea sank deeper into the tub. The water sloshed too loudly around her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so vulnerable and exposed. When she peered through the veil of steam, a set of eyes blinked open and shone sulfurically in the darkness.

Shea screamed. In an instant, the door flew open. Ciara burst through it in a flurry of red curls and the white silk of her nightgown. “What? What is it? What’s happening?”

Her modesty forgotten, Shea pointed into the shadows. “There’s something there. Some kind of—”

Ciara began to laugh.

Shea’s fear melted into outrage. “What the hell is so funny?”

“Oh, I apologize.” Ciara dabbed at her eyes with a delicatesleeve. Mirth still danced in her eyes. “You gave me a fright. But that’s only Beann. I forgot he’d be in here by now. He likes to sleep on the tiles.”

“Beann?”

The biggest dog Shea had ever seen trotted jauntily into the circle of candlelight. He paused to shake out his shaggy, white fur. With his lithe frame and long, long face, she assumed he was some kind of sighthound.

“This,” Ciara said, “is my cousin.”

“Yourwhat?” Shea gawped. “How is that possible?”

“Evidently, one of my aunts or great-aunts, or what have you, ran afoul of a sorceress and was transformed into a hound while she was pregnant.” Shea must’ve looked horrified, because Ciara said, “Don’t look so scandalized. It’s quite common, actually. There are many stories about warriors who go out hunting for hare or deer, only to find their quarry is a woman wearing the face of an animal.”

Nothing about his bearing suggested this information pained him, or that he’d understood what Ciara had said at all. Beann only regarded Ciara neutrally as she spoke, his ears pricked attentively toward her. His eyes were liquid dark and mysterious, and they rested on Ciara like she was his entire world. She smiled softly back at him.

With the threat defused, it occurred to Shea that she was concealed by nothing but water clouded with her own filth. She cleared her throat pointedly.

“Oh!” Even in the flickering light of the candles, Shea could see the flush creeping up Ciara’s face. “Well, now that I’ve confirmed that you’re not being murdered, I shall leave you in peace.”

Ciara took Beann by the collar and all but dragged him out of the room. Once the door snicked shut behind her, Shea climbed out of the water and dressed in the pajamas she’d brought from her room. She emerged to find Ciara sitting beside Beann on the floor. He was sprawled out on his side while she absently stroked his ears.

Ciara did not glance up. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Shea watched the two of them. She didn’t know if there was a sensitive way to ask what troubled her. “Does he know?”

“Know what?”

Shea gave her ayou know what I meansort of look, but Ciara remained nonplussed. “That he’s not supposed to be a dog?”