Page 27

Story: The ShadowHunter

He would select one to take a stroll with for an hour or two before they returned. Then, he would eventually take a different one for a walk.

It was Geryon who suggested he do this.

Bradwick was feeling overwhelmed trying to entertain the ladies all at once, so this had been a solution.

Geryon would follow them, like he did most of the time.

Usually, he didn’t last long when Bradwick was speaking with the other noblewomen. Sometimes, he would leave, and order two guards to take over his position so he could be at court – withCecily.

He was becoming increasingly fascinated with this woman, with her poised face, graceful walk, and unfeeling intellect.

She has managed to spin the court to like her,yet he could tell she didn’t care about them whatsoever.She plays as though she enjoys their games and conversations,but he could tell she was bored of them.She speaks with logical thought, making the court enjoy speaking with her,yet she also made them appear stupid without offending them.

It was brilliant to behold such artistry and web spinning.

Instead of being with King Bradwick while he strolled, Geryon had been shadowing her in curiosity.I like looking at her.He wanted to play with her, and he wasn’t quite sure what that meant to him yet.

It didn’t help that he found her beauty easy to admire, with her pale green eyes that caught the light, her glossy brown hair that was always tied back to frame her face.Such a fierce gaze on a woman who seems as fragile as glass.She was tall, and yet her frame was so petite; he feared if he grabbed her, he might break her with his strength.

Geryon still hadn’t figured this woman out yet.She is a walking contradiction.

On this day, Cecily had been the first lady Bradwick took for a stroll.

He’d followed, listening to them converse until they returned to court. Her conversations with the king were far more enticing and thought provoking than the others.Although that Wyetta female is also quite bright, and the redhead sometimes has her moments.

He knew he was becoming obsessed with Duke Grayson’s daughter.

Geryon had attempted to stop observing her by following Bradwick when he took Savannah for a stroll afterwards. Their conversation had been flirtatious, something he could tell Bradwick enjoyed greatly.

He found it tedious, and eventually abandoned them to be with the court.

No, Geryon wanted to watch someone more entertaining.

Cecily was no longer there.

Instead, he returned at the same time as Victoria, her lady-in-waiting, who was alone.

Wondering what she was up to, Geryon had followed her strange scent into the palace. With his heightened sense of smell in comparison to a measly human, he was able to tell the two women had walked together until they reached the library.

Peeking inside, that’s when he saw her laying there.

This was his opportunity to speak with her alone, and he wouldn’t dare miss it. He hoped once he spoke with her, his curiosity about her might fade.

She was like a shiny piece of treasure dangled in front of a pixie. And, like a pixie, he hoped once he held the stolen treasure, it would no longer interest him.

He would know after he spoke with her.I may only like her from afar.

She didn’t notice him approach until he was hoisting himself up onto the waist-high cabinet pressed against the back of her seat, putting himself above her. The wood was sturdy, and the cabinet ran the entire length of her lounging sofa.

The other chairs had been too far, since her spot was in the centre, out in the open. He made his own chair – he needed to be close to her to observe her properly.

He bent his knees and placed the bottom of his boots flat against the surface. The candelabra in the middle had already been kicked off.

The book didn’t move from its position against her stomach, but she let her eyes fall to him. “You are awfully close, sir.”

It would appear he was. They were almost sitting side by side, except for the fact that he was slightly elevated.

Geryon then pulled an eating knife from his sword belt while taking a pomegranate from his pocket. He’d taken it from the refreshment table in the marquee the court used to shield themselves from the sun.

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