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“Aren’t you going tell us about your little secret, Cyara?” Lyrena said, stretching her arms high enough above her that even in her seated position, they nearly brushed the ceiling. She was definitely feeling better.
The handmaiden turned Knight of the Round Table and secret harpy rubbed her hand over her face. It struck me—odd. Cyara was always composed. Even when her wings had been mangled, her sisters murdered… she was always graceful, even-keeled.
But now she just looked tired.
A cost of the harpy that lived beneath her skin, maybe.
“Later,” I said. “We are all tired. Osheen will stand guard. The rest of us need to sleep. We are no use to one another if we cannot even keep our eyes open.”
“Always the commander,” Veyka said with mock sweetness.
My cock hardened in answer.I have a few commands I’d like to give you.
Her wicked grin was enough to make me nearly spill myself in my trousers.
67
VEYKA
Arran did not take me to bed.
Much to my chagrin, he went to check the perimeter and find out what additional sorts of defenses the faeries had against the succubus and any other threats.
Always the battle commander.
I slept hard.
No dreams came to me—no nightmares either. And I was damned grateful. My consciousness had plenty to work with, after all I’d learned in the last day or two. But exhaustion was effective, if nothing else.
When I emerged into the central chamber of our little alcove, only one person was awake.
Percival.
He watched me warily from the other side of the room, his chamber directly opposite the one that Arran and I had claimed. But he didn’t retreat.
I wasn’t sure whether that was an improvement in relations or not.
I rummaged around the packs that had been tossed down near the hearth. “Food?”
He nodded toward a tray with a thin cloth draped over it, near the archway to the tunnel.
“One of the faeries left it.”
I lifted the cloth, examining the offering. Some sort of creamy dip with a spoon. Crumbled grains. A pot of honey. Crab apples. Good enough for me.
If it was poisoned or dosed with something… what would we do, starve?
I took an apple, heaped some of the other food onto a small dish, and retreated back to sit opposite the human.
I never would have imagined I could sit across from a human and eat a meal. Civilly.
Nothing made sense anymore.
My entire world was a jumble of lies, half-truths, revelations.
Witches, assassins, nightwalkers, faeries, humans, succubus.
Percival watched me from behind hooded eyes. He’d brushed his hair—a rare occurrence. But there were dark circles under his eyes.
