Page 164 of The Edge of Darkness

Niall cocked his head and blew out a breathy laugh. “You’re lucky I’ve built up enough patience for your antics over the past hundred and eighty years.”

“Remember, Brother, patience is for the weak.”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“Boys,” I said pointedly.

“Boys?” Roirdan echoed.

“Yes. Boys. It’s what humans call young, immature, adolescent males—those who don’t act their age.” I pointed my finger between the two of them. “It’s what you two are being right now.”

Across the room, Remic snickered and folded his arms, keen to watch us jest.

Roirdan snuck a quick glance at Nivelle, who was browsing the bookshelf, pretending not to be so interested in the ensuing conversation. “What do they call females who act the same way?” he muttered under his breath.

The witch slowly turned her head in his direction, and he quickly met my stare again, fighting back another smirk.

“Girls,” I said. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t have the same demeaning effect.” I tossed him a knowing grin, watching as his jaw ticked with irritation beneath his beard.

“How do we sort rooms?” Silas asked, looking at the four surrounding doors.

“That one is mine and Auren’s,” Niall said, pointing to the door closest to the bookshelves. “Remic’s and Roirdan’s are both there.” He indicated to the two doors on opposite sides from each other, framing the floor-to-ceiling window. “Aremis’s room is free for the taking.”

Silas looked at his sister. “You can take it. The settee out here is fine for me.”

I turned to Niall. “Surely we can ask if Vanir would mind providing another bed, or another room⁠—”

“It’s fine,” Silas assured us. “Truly.”

I didn’t quite feel comfortable with the arrangement, but before I could protest further, Nivelle called my name.

“Auren, the book you mentioned in the wraith’s cave is here. She tugged the thin book from its nesting place and gently fanned through the pages.

“The Warrior and The Wraith,” I confirmed. “That’s Roirdan’s favorite.”

The page-flipping halted as Nivelle’s expression of interest fell into a scowl.

Roirdan noticed. “What? Just because I like something doesn’t mean you have to hate it. It’s not like I wrote the damn thing. It won’t kill you if you read it.”

Nivelle opened then closed her mouth, reining in her retort.

Instead of giving him a verbal lashing, she set the book on a table and turned for her room. Unfortunately for her, the door was locked. She jerked at the handle almost violently, then whipped her head around to find Niall. “Unlock this door!”

He lifted an amused brow, hesitating long enough to make her irritation spike even further. When she pushed a harsh breath out her nostrils, he flicked his wrist, and the lock clicked open.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, I turned toward Niall. “I knew you could unlock these doors. You just didn’t want me staying in a different room than you the first time we came here.”

“‘Court protocol,’” he said, stating the same excuse he’d told me before.

I shook my head, grinning. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

A half hour later, the five of us stood at the edge of the babbling brook that skirted the guest house as Vanir approached on horseback with five empty-saddled mounts behind him.

He was the embodiment of the highlands with his thick beard, long hair braided back against the curve of his head and swaying where it hung down his chest, and his muscular arms, fully exposed, thanks to his sleeveless tunic. The leather vambraces around his wrists flexed and groaned as he tugged on his horse’s reins and came to a stop before us.

“Horses?” Niall chuckled. “You’re really pulling out all the stops for the newcomers, aren’t you?”