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“I canandI will.”
It was harder for me not to throw a punch and break his nose for a second time.
“Clean yourself up,” Faenir added before turning on his heel to leave. “I trust that this time you will not go searching within Haxton’s grounds. If you fear the shades, they will seem like kittens in comparison to what else lurks within my home.”
* * *
Ilistened beyond the doors which had been left ajar before me. Pressing my back to their cold, wooden presence I devoured the one-sided conversation that happened in the room on the other side.
It had not been hard to find my way here. All it took was to listen to the voices, for sound was such a foreign concept within Haxton Manor. Sound suggested life, and this place was void of it.
“… must you be so infuriating, cousin? There will be no good to come from trying to entice Arlo to stay when Haxton remains a home for ghosts and regret.”
I did not need to peer through the gap to know it was Myrinn who spoke. Her light, powerful tones conjured a vivid image of her in Tithe.
“What is done is done,” Faenir replied. He spoke as though every word was an effort. Even from my vantage point I could hear his very want to be left alone. Speaking seemed such an effort for the brooding elf.
There was a familiar scratch of metal against plate, a clink of glass then followed by the glugging rush of liquid. “You are lucky he still lives. Faenir, will you look at me and at least show some interest into what I am saying?”
“This conversation, and your presence may I add, is unsolicited. I did not invite you to visit, nor embark in an inquiry as to what I have done and why I took the human from his realm unwillingly.”
“Someone must be the harsh reminder that you have made a grave mistake stealing him from his home,” Myrinn replied, her voice deepening with an unseen power.
Faenir barked, followed by a screech of chair against the floor. The sound made my skin crawl. I held my breath to stop myself from gasping in response.
“You keep suggesting I have stolen him,takenhim, that my doing is different to what you have partaken in, Myrinn. Did you not willingly enter their realm and pick a mate without asking if they even wished to return to Evelina with you? No. Do not come to my home and look at me as though I am less than. I am simply following the very tradition Claria and the rest of you believed I would fail in. Keeping him here puts all your hopes of succession at risk… that is why you are so invested, I imagine.”
Myrinn stood now, evident by the loud clatter of her chair as it was thrown across the floor. “How dare you even for a moment believe I care more for the crown than your well-being.”
“Do you not?” His question was quiet, words dangerous as though opening a wound that he knew would cause pain.
I chose that moment to enter. With a gentle push the door swung wide and revealed me standing, red cheeked, and my narrowed gaze locked on my captor. “It would seem yourkindare not above the mundane limits of arguing with family. Shall I take this terrible atmosphere as the excuse I require to return to my room?”
“Arlo.” Myrinn stood straight, face softening before my eyes from one of unleashed anger to controlled temper. “I apologise that you had to hear that.”
Faenir said nothing, but his wide, golden stare screamed many silent thoughts.
He didn’t think I would come.The rising of his pristine brows told me that he was happy I did.
“Please,” Myrinn said, stepping back from the table and gesturing to the vacant chair that waited patiently, tucked beneath the long table before her. “More than anyone, you have been through a lot today. I would feel better knowing you get some food in you. It will help… I hope.”
The table had been dressed beautifully; I could not deny that. It was long and made from thick cuttings of dark wood. Across its length, a black runner of material had been laid. Upon it waited silver plates of food, far more than enough for three people to devour.Goblets of wine, deep red and pale grape-white, had been nestled among the delights of food, all mostly untouched beside the goblet closest to where Faenir had been sitting. That one was already half empty.
As I walked into the room, I tried to keep my chin up and my expression unbothered. However, I could not shake the feeling of eyes following me, golden, intense eyes that belonged to my captor.They were the chains that bound me to this place. Heavy and anchoring, Faenir studied me as though he had never seen me before.
“Do all your captive humans get offered such luxuries?” I asked, reaching for the back of my chair and gripping it in hopes they both did not see how my hands trembled. “Because it will take far more than warmed meats and sweet fruits for me to forget that I am a prisoner within this place.”
Myrinn winced at that, forcing a smile and a laugh as she reached down for her chair, righted it and sat back upon it.She was dressed in a gown of silver that complimented her brown skin. Around the narrow bodice was a web of straps and belts that gave structure to her dress before it fell around her waist like clouds of tumbling mist. Myrinn’s hair hung across both exposed shoulders, thick braids woven perfectly together with the addition of jewels and golden clasps that completed her regal aura. At the crown of her head, hair had been twisted to give the impression of wearing a tiara.
If I had ever believed in Kings and Queens, I would not have doubted that she was the greatest of them all.
Faenir was the last to move. There was still tension between them both, but it seemed to dissipate with every passing moment.
“If you keep persisting that you are my captive then I will insist on tying chains around your wrists to keep you bound to me. Perhaps that would stop you from being such a… fool.”
“Faenir, please.”
I ignored Myrinn’s pleading as my knuckles turned white upon the top of the chair. “You’re insufferable.”
