Page 36 of Sky’s Edge

So, he might not smile, laugh or shout, and any expression on his face was so micro I could talk myself into thinking I didn’t witness it, but when he was around me, he’d always been engaged with me.

Now, he seemed detached. Short. Right there and still far away.

I took a sip of my (excellent) martini, studying him and wondering how to play this, because it seemed, for once, I might have an advantage.

At the same time, that niggly section at the back of my brain shared it was a little worried about him.

While I had these thoughts, he shifted his bottom half toward the fire, crossed his long legs, turned his head that way too, and brooded while the firelight danced along his face and frame.

He wasn’t wearing just any sweater, but a thick fisherman’s sweater in marled blue wool that did amazing things to his eyes.

And he hadn’t even run his fingers through his hair to right it from the wind, so it was messy, and, I noticed, about a month beyond needing a cut, so it was overlong, curling around his neck and ears and falling on his forehead.

He’d never looked so handsome.

Oh gods.

“Do you know the history of Sigil?” he asked the fire, thankfully breaking into my thoughts.

Since I was going to spend time there, before I came, I’d looked it up.

But I was in a kind of trance concocted from his mood, the vibe of the room and the visage of him seeming far away from me, at the same time seeming at one with his surroundings, which weren’t kingly in the slightest, and that was attractive too.

When I didn’t answer, he turned his head to me and lifted his brows.

“Tell me,” I said softly.

He jutted up his chin and looked back at the fire.

“It all began when the realms were still ruled by the clans, and they warred over everything. One of the demon clans had been beaten back to the sea. Many lives lost. Lands. Homes. Belongings. The chieftain was weary of war. Of blood. Death. Fear. Grieving widows. He decided to quest to find a land no one would fight over. To find a place where his beings could be safe.”

Tanyn took a sip of his drink and kept speaking to the fire.

“They took to boats. After many months of searching, they discovered Sigil. It was almost perfect. The journey to it was treacherous. It could easily be defended, but there was no reason to venture here. However, since there was never a thaw, they couldn’t grow food and would have to subsist on fish and wildlife. Even then, they knew a body needed fruit, vegetables and grains. But he didn’t forget Sigil and passed the knowledge of it along to the next generation. Chieftains, and then kings became fascinated by it. In war, it was a perfect place to retreat or strategize, if it was amply supplied. It was also a quiet place to get away from the rigors of rule and contemplate. Construction on this castle started only a few years after the Demon Rift.”

When I’d read about it, I’d been startled by that fact, considering how far away this island was and how much effort that would take using antiquated means of transport and construction.

However, beings back then got stuff done regardless that they hadn’t yet harnessed electricity or created construction bots.

“And then there was a female. A fae,” Tanyn continued. “Lauded as the most beautiful female on the continent, and this would seem true, because she was hounded by royals, aristocrats, merchants, sorcerers. All of them wanted her, none of them she wanted. To escape their romantic pursuits, she ended up running from Land’s End all the way up to Sky’s Edge. And of course, she came to the attention of the king, who was different in one way than the others.”

He took another sip of his drink.

I waited.

He swallowed and said, “He didn’t mind capturing her and imprisoning her to keep her for himself.”

All right.

I’d read up on Sigil, and the whole war-weary-chieftain-discovering-it story was easily available to find on panes.

But there was no mention of an imprisoned fae.

“Even if he was married…” Tanyn went on.

And…

Did I detect a hint of bitterness in his tone?