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She was twenty-five years of age. From what I knew of the human realm, women of her age often already had spouses and children. But in the fae realm, she was young. Less than a decade past her awakening. Fae her age were known for being reckless, loud and graceless.
Veyka was the first, at least.
But the second two… no. She moved as gracefully and soundlessly as a mouse.
Not a mouse—far too meek for my moonlight-haired vixen.
A cat.
Not the kind you trained and kept for a pet, sleeping meekly on your pillow.
If Veyka had been born a shifter, she’d have been a forest predator, strong and sensual.
Lethal.
But as quiet as she was, she could not sneak past me.
I didn’t hear her, exactly. It was that pull again, as if someone had stretched a line from Veyka to the center of my chest. The same one that had summoned me to her chamber the night of the assassin’s attempt on her life.
A chill snaked down my spine at the memory of the female assassin’s skin, the way the darkness inside of her had reached out, trying to touch me. Veyka’s hands were always cool to the touch, but it was an entirely different sensation. Touching Veyka reminded me of dipping my fingers into the streams that ran down from the glaciers in the early spring, fresh and sweet. Not the sort of mind-numbing cold that threatened to steal my very soul.
My eyes flickered open, summoned by the pull in my chest.
Go back to sleep, I silently willed her. If she’d ever been asleep at all. I certainly had been—and I did not appreciate being roused.
But I could sense her moving away, across the room.
With a sigh, I sat up, pulling the strip of leather from around my wrist and using it to tie back my hair. Whatever she was up to, the last time it had ended with a skoupuma attack. I grabbed my axe from beside the bedroll and fastened that to my belt as well.
There was no one else in the antechamber to disturb. Gawayn had his Goldstones posted outside the door, in the corridor, deeming my presence protection enough outside Veyka’s actual bedroom.
Careful to keep my own movements silent, even to sensitive fae ears, I slipped through the door into the bedroom—which was empty. But the faint scent of primrose and plum told me enough about where Veyka had gone.
This time, she didn’t try the door. She decided to scale the veranda itself.
I paused long enough to give her a head start. This time, I would find out where she was going before I dragged her selfish ass back to the goldstone palace.
My feet silent, I moved to stand on the edge of the balcony. Overhead, I heard the soft caw of a crow—a sound of acknowledgement. One of Osheen’s airborne guards, circling the courtyard. I wondered if they’d seen Veyka as well. I made a mental note to myself to confer with Osheen tomorrow—when I’d gotten some damned sleep.
But if I’d noticed the terrestrials circling overhead, Veyka had too. Which meant she’d gone the other direction—down.
With a sigh, I rearranged my axe so that it was strapped over my back instead of around my waist. Then I swung my leg over the edge and began to climb.
She was not as quiet as she made her descent. I tracked her footfalls easily enough. Twice, she slipped, and a soft gasp of frustration escaped her luscious lips.
Stop thinking about her lips.
I’d been thinking about nothing else since that afternoon I found the sniveling elemental in her bed.
That’s a lie.
I’d been thinking about her breasts and cunt too.
But now was not the time for either.
Though maybe I’d spank that round ass of hers as punishment once I had her safely back in her bedroom. She’d probably enjoy it. My cock hardened at the thought.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus on softening the sounds of my own foot and handholds.
