Page 187 of The Edge of Darkness

Auren gave me a look. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, thank you very much. I just—” I stopped myself. This was not the time or place to hash through the complications of the matter. “Why don’t you ask her about it, because I have no idea what her problem is.”

She exchanged an unspoken word with Niall, then turned and stalked off into the crowd.

“You’ll be happy to know I haven’t yet lost the challenge,” Remic said, taking his drink out of Niall’s safekeeping.

“Good,” I said, bashing my mug against his.

Vanir and Silas eventually found their way back over to us, and in the meantime, Auren had conveniently hunted down Nivelle. I’d watched their entire conversation while keeping to the shadowed side of the group, pretending I was listening to the others around me.

Nivelle actually talked with Auren. Not yelled or argued, just talked. She even grinned. It was quick, but I caught it, and it did something to me.

It hurt.

Strangely, the hurt made me even more interested.

The two of them were now several drinks in and twirling like wild animals to the beat of the drums. Whatever they’d discussed before, it must have been enough to change Nivelle’s perspective and get her to loosen up, though she didn’t lose her composure completely. There was still some rigidity in her motions and a straightness to her spine, but she spun, arms wide, face tilted to the sky. As she closed her eyes, her mouth opened, and silent words fell from her lips.

I wondered what she was saying. Was it a prayer? A spell? Was she singing? There were no fiddles or lyres to carry a tune to. Only drums, primal and summoning in their rhythm.

She looked like she belonged there, twirling under the cloud-covered night sky, surrounded by pulsing firelight, letting some of her steely exterior crack and fall away. Beautiful, enchanting, confounding in all her ways, she was unlike anyone I had ever met. And suddenly, I had no more desire for the drink in my hand. I didn’t want to drown my senses simply because I was frustrated. All I wanted to do was watch her and wait for another smile to surface.

So I did.

I watched. I waited. I ignored everything else going on around me. And when the drums faded out, and she stopped spinning, and her eyes immediately found mine in the sea of faces, I felt a part of my soul stir awake.

I left the celebration earlier than the others.

The guest house was quiet, secluded from the music and revelry that would last long into the night. It was just the solitude I needed to sit and sort through my thoughts. I slumped onto the settee and stared ahead at the bookshelves. The fire crackled nearby, providing ambient noise that did nothing to help calm my mind.

Something had come over me earlier. Something that I could not explain. That strange feeling in my chest wouldn’t go away. It felt like the drums were still vibrating through the air, echoing behind my ribs, tugging at my heartstrings. I flexed my hands in frustration, not entirely sure what the mysterious sensation was or how to get past it. Nivelle had something to do with it, that much I was sure of.

Normally, when I was feeling troubled, I’d port to the temple ruins atop the mountains and work through my issues with my fists and my weapons. But I hadn’t brought anything but my dagger with me, and I didn’t want to set off any of my uncle’s wards, which he liked to keep in various places throughout the highlands.

The guesthouse was the best place for me.

I wasn’t myself, and that was made even more apparent by the fact that three casks of ale sat behind me on the table, refilled to the brim—if I knew Vanir—and yet, I had no urge to pour myself a drink. Alcohol wouldn’t help how I felt. And when the sensation of carelessness faded, and the thoughts floated to the surface, I’d be worse off for having tried to drown them with it.

Guess that meant I was wearing a dress to Lumeri.

Remic would be thrilled.

But even that thought didn’t seem to bother me as much as Nivelle calling me arrogant.

My fingers drummed against my thighs.

What the hell was I doing wrong? And why did I care so much in the first place? She was a witch from Neveshir. She didn’t belong here, and she certainly wouldn’t stay after all this was over. Sure, the witches would settle in the mountains, but there was no guarantee Nivelle would choose to remain there with them. The isolation of the isles, with her gloomy cottage and the eerie blue cats, seemed the more likely choice for her.

Something clattered behind me, and I leapt from the couch, dagger in hand, ready to sever someone’s limb from their body, only to find Nivelle and Auren. They stumbled into existence, arms intertwined, nearly knocking over the table full of ale as they found their footing. Auren was glassy-eyed and giggling, and Nivelle was grinning, catching her breath like she’d just finished dancing. Next to them, Niall, Silas, and Remic appeared, in much the same state. Niall supported both Dionachs by their arms, fighting to keep them and himself upright.

Gods, how long had I been here stewing?

Apparently long enough for everyone to get good and drunk.

Remic snapped his wings outward to steady himself as he stepped away. Silas, however, could barely stand on his own. His wings flailed as Niall used both hands to keep him upright.

“Easy does it,” Niall said, laughing. Then he turned to me and nodded toward the dagger in my hand. “Are you going to bloodlet us so we can sober up?”