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"Hywel thinks he'll try and steal something, and I suspect he's right," Conall said, arms and hands cradling my shoulders, the back of my head. He bent, holding my gaze, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
I could guess his meaning, and I rolled my eyes. "I'm not athing."
"Oh no,mo chroí, you are infinitely more valuable than anythingin this world," Conall murmured.
I growled in annoyance but when his mouth met mine, sweet and playful and so very welcome, irritation melted away under the morning sun.
* * *
My first realinteraction with Rolant didn't come until the evening, after Conall had run me ragged in the meadow and Laszlo had trained me in sword fighting until my arms refused to hold the weapon up.
The dreamers of the castle were growing scarce now that Hywel was awake, only enough left to manage the upkeep and offer the occasional whisper of a melody from one of the instruments.
"You ought to bring in a village to keep the castle for you, dazzle them a little. They'll only live a few decades anyway, and they'd liven these old stones up a bit."
Rolant's voice was careless, an old French accent galloping through the words and down the hall to reach my ears as I walked between Conall and Laszlo to the dining hall.
"If the accommodations of my home are not to your liking, Rolant, you may always retreat to your own little house. Or is it a cottage? Such a dainty little place, as I recall."
"An abbey," Rolant bit out.
"But not a castle," Laszlo whispered in my ear, just a hint of wicked humor flashing behind his spectacles.
"The monks must be rolling over in their graves," Hywel murmured. "Ah! There you are, my loves. Rolant is feeling quitedullwithout entertainment this evening. We will have to do our best to amuse him."
"Conall knows some very good poems," I said, mostly under my breath, making the werewolf with his arm around my waist snicker in stifled laughter.
But Rolant must've heard me, because he turned as we entered, cold eyes immediately fastening to my face, making my brief attempt at humor feel awkward and dangerous.
"Ah, the divinity," he said, studying me. He bowed shallowly, not removing his stare, and the gesture mocked gallantry. "I have heard such mixed reports of you, madam, I had no idea what to expect. There was an old acquaintance of mine, a very respectable ancient vampire named Yvain, who many years ago waxed poetic about your elegant sexual manner. So much so, I almost considered seeking you out in your little slum in London," Rolant said. He turned to share a brief smirk with a glowering Hywel. "Although you know I never pay."
I remembered Yvain, a lovely vampire from a nomad tribe who'd been turned while he was out alone, during a ceremony meant to declare him an adult male. He'd always made love with the enthusiasm of a virgin, never quite able to hold off his release as long as he wished, and had been excessively sweet, always with a beautiful gift at the ready for each visit.
Rolant continued, turning back to me. "Of course, recent reports have been…less complimentary."
Hywel huffed, and a little smoke expelled from his nostrils. Conall tensed and started to vibrate with a growl at my side, and Laszlo's wings stretched behind us.
"How is Yvain?" I asked, not rising to the bait.
"Oh, quite dead," Rolant said with a cruel laugh. "Butyou, my dear, have clearly recovered. Yes, I see why he was such a devotee of yours. Beautiful, naturally, but there is something altogetherprofaneabout you too, isn't there? Those eyes. Sorrowful, starving, seductive. You look ready to suck a man dry."
I glanced at Hywel and raised my eyebrows. Why on earth had he ever entangled himself with such a horrible, petty person?
"Rolant, you will cease or you will leave," Hywell said, the words firm. "Actually, you had better just—"
"I'll be good. I'll be tame," Rolant cooed, hands raised at his sides. He grinned at me, and the expression was almost grotesque in his vicious glee. "I'm only playing, darling girl. I am quite jealous of you. Such a collection of handsome beasts you have acquired for yourself to play with."
Somehow, that stung more than the reference to my captivity. I was still struggling with my relationships with these men, my willingness to let Laszlo and Hywel pour affection into me. I turned my cheek away, letting the dragon have his win.
Hywel had enough. His body swelled and his voice deepened, a sudden gust of red leathery wings taking up every available inch of space at his back. "I won't put my hands on you, Rolant. I swore off that vile habit millenia ago," he snarled. "But I can still find ways to rip that venomous tongue of yours from your mouth."
Heat shimmered in the air between them, a warning of a potential blaze. Conall and Laszlo pressed in close on either side of me, no doubt prepared to sweep me from the room if the pair decided to transform into their true shapes. Rolant was ice to Hywel's fire, cool and almost magnificent against the blaze of my dragon's anger, but he tensed, bracing himself for attack—not foolish enough to make the first move.
"My venomous tongue has information you would rather not miss out on."
"If you know anything of use, then so does the person who told you," Hywel said, shrugging, but his wings folded back into nothingness and the air in the room settled.
"True, but Birsha has her now," Rolant answered, sliding past Hywel and helping himself to a seat at the table.
