Page 34

Chapter

Twenty-One

ARA

Sloan said she would meet me in the parlor, overviewing the gardens.

Climbing the walls surrounding Sloan’s house is a breeze, and since it’s winter, the garden lies dark and deserted before me, surrounding a picturesque two-story villa, its weathered stone walls adorned with creeping ivy and bathed in the warm glow of windows and lanterns.

The villa has a terracotta roof and arched balconies with wrought-iron railings.

I crouch behind the fountain in the center of the garden—its statue depicting Ura, the goddess of sea and trade—and watch the house for movement.

The scent of blooming winter jasmine drifts over from the pergola, the only sounds are distant crickets, the burbling of the fountain, and muted voices on the other side of the wall.

Sloan sits in front of the fireplace, stitching what looks like a border of little flowers onto a pillowcase.

I never had the patience for that kind of work, and my mother gave up trying after I declared I wanted a sword for my ninth birthday.

So if my future husband hopes for something like that, he will be sorely disappointed.

Sloan’s movements look precise and elegant, not once stopping to undo a stitch she made.

I knock softly on the windowpane. Sloan looks up, a relieved smile splitting her face before she jumps up to let me in. She hugs me as soon as she closes the door behind me.

“Thank gods you are alive and well.” She pushes me back.

“You’re alright, aren’t you?” Her gaze wanders over me like she’d be able to see anything through the layer of clothes.

“You really look like a boy.” She crinkles her nose.

“We can’t let them see you. You would cause all kinds of gossip meeting me like that. ”

“What? Don’t you feel like having a secret affair with me?” I wiggle my eyebrows. She swats at me, laughing.

“Stop it,” she admonishes. “I would never hear the end of it. Let’s go up to my room, and you can change into one of your dresses. I hid them all in my closet.”

“Ooh, you’re living dangerously, taking me up to your room.” I chuckle.

She shushes me and checks the hallway before ushering me up the stairs. We are giggling like little girls by the time we shut the door to her room behind us.

Nelly, Sloan’s maid, nearly caught us on the way up.

Sloan collapses on her bed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Nelly’s face,” she gasps. “She totally thinks I lost it.”

“I nearly pissed my pants when she tried to sound all nonchalant about you enjoying the view ,” I giggle and flop down next to her. I give my cousin’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “I’m so glad I came over. I needed that!”

“Are you not having fun at the academy?” Sloan turns her head to look at me, one eyebrow raised.

“I am, but it’s much more…serious, I guess.” I look at her and shrug.

“Really?” Sloan widens her eyes comically. “And here I thought dying was fun.”

“Smart-ass,” I mutter, which makes her giggle again.

Twenty minutes later, Sloan is up to date with what happened in my life, with a few adaptations. I left out everything about me being hurt, the punishment, and also Tate. I don’t want to worry her, and maybe I don’t want to be grilled either.

My letters are safely stashed in Sloan’s desk drawer and I stare at my reflection after changing into one of my dresses. I look both familiar and different.

The green dress matches my eye color. It hugs my body, revealing and highlighting my small waist, where my uniform is loose to hide it.

I still wear my daggers, but the flowing skirt and sleeves hide them from sight.

My hair is unbound, the golden strands flowing in waves down my back, nearly reaching my hips. I look softer and more my age.

Disguised, I resemble more a boy than a man, my body not as broad and rather gangly against most runners and riders. The missing beard growth and my big eyes emphasize the effect. I sigh.

Damn, I like being a girl.

Remembering the fun we had so far and the dangers waiting for me next week, I have the urge to enjoy this evening to the fullest and live a little, as Calix advised me.

“Let’s go out tonight,” I say, meeting Sloan’s gaze in the mirror, with a big smile on my face.

“What? No!” She shakes her head. “What if someone recognizes you?”

“I’m just a girl enjoying a night out with her friend. Nothing suspicious about that.” She still doesn’t seem convinced. “No one will recognize me,” I promise.

“Tamara Blackstone, have you officially lost your mind? No!” She shakes her head.

“They haven’t seen me like this,” I try to convince her. “and no one knows about me—well, except Joel and Tate.” She still shakes her head, so I plead with my eyes. “Please?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She narrows her eyes. “And who is Tate?”

“Please. Let me enjoy being a girl for one night before I go back to that.” I gesture toward the clothes I piled on her desk, ignoring her question. I’m reluctant to share Tate with her. Even if there isn’t anything to share.

She sighs. “Alright, but don’t blame me if you get caught.”

The night air is freezing, and my legs feel oddly exposed in a skirt, even if it nearly reaches the ground. It’s been a while since I’ve worn a dress.

Bruce, their butler, looked at us strangely on the way out, but I hope he doesn’t mention it to Sloan’s parents. We pretend to take a stroll around the neighborhood and get away without taking anyone with us.

The streets are only sparingly populated because everyone is hurrying to get home. Not the best weather for taking a walk.

We pass three taverns before I feel like we are not going to chance running into anyone we know. The houses around us are simpler and smaller but well maintained. We are close to the docks by now and a good distance away from the academy, so we should be safe from run-ins with any riders, too.

Since it’s my fault we are halfway across town, I promise Sloan to see her home later.

The taproom is a little darker and seedier than I would have liked, and Sloan steps closer to me. Turning around right away will send the wrong signals, so I drag a reluctant Sloan to the bar and push her toward the last two open seats.

“I feel like everyone is watching us,” Sloan whispers, leaning into me. I look around.

“Maybe because they are,” I tell her. Apart from a group of older women in one corner, we are the only women. “Relax, I’m armed, and I won’t let anything happen to you. They probably only gawk because we are new here,” I reassure her.

Half an hour later, we are still in the same seats. The glasses of wine in front of us are reasonably clean, the room is warm, and after sending three men on their way, we are left alone. Even Sloan relaxes.

She is filling me in on an accident at the last dinner party her parents hosted that ended with pudding in the elaborate hairstyle of a lady we both can’t stand when I feel him enter the tavern.

I know his magic well enough by now to recognize it without a doubt, but I still pray I’m wrong. How can I sense him when he’s on the other side of the room?

Fighting the urge to turn, I consider my options.Why did they have to pick this tavern… tonight?

There is shuffling and chairs scraping over the floor, clearly audible over the murmurs of the other patrons. After a few seconds, I chance a look over my shoulder. Yep, it’s him and five of his flight—well, our flight at the moment—all of them settling in at one of the tables across the room.

Tate sits with his back to the wall, which puts me right in his line of sight. Awesome. I watch his lips move while he talks to Jared. He looks up, and our eyes meet. A jolt zings through my body, setting my skin on fire.

The way I react to this man is ridiculous.

I fight the urge to duck and instead turn slowly back to Sloan, cursing my stupidity and lack of restraint. The room is sparsely lit, and there is a sea of strangers between us. My hair is down and I’m wearing a dress. He didn’t recognize me. Right? I groan.

“What is it?” Sloan looks alarmed.

“Some men I know just dropped in.” I fight the urge to look over my shoulder again.

Her eyes widen. “Should we leave?”

I look at our half-full glasses. “Let's finish these, and then I'll get you home,” I decide.

“My brother can accompany you back after you drop me off,” she says.

I snort. “Yeah sure, because Bastian will be fine with me climbing back into the academy. No, I don’t want an escort.”

“I can’t let you walk all alone in the dark.” Sloan sounds concerned.

I raise my eyebrow at her. “I don't spend my day weaving, you know.”

“You should have brought Joel.”

I laugh at the thought.

“Yeah…no. I wouldn't be here if he knew about it.”

“Why are you here, Ara?” A rumbling voice asks in a deceptively calm tone.

Shit.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I turn around.

“Hey, Kyronos. What a surprise to see you here.” I give him a sweet smile.

His face doesn't betray a thing, but his eyes burn into mine. He raises one eyebrow.

“I didn't take you for the partying type.” I ramble on. “Me and Sloan were just about to leave, so…” I hop off my stool, expecting him to step back, but he doesn't. My chest grazes his when I inhale, sending a shiver up my spine and I look up to meet his eyes.

Big mistake.

I’m acutely aware of how close his lips are and how little it would take to close that gap. My cheeks grow hot, and I drag my gaze back to his eyes.

“Ara.” My name is a growl that ripples through my body. My eyes dart to his lips again. Well, I already know my restraint is shit around him, and who can blame me when he says my name like that? Gods, I want him to say it again.

I bite my lip, and his gaze drops to my mouth. For a second, I see something flicker in his eyes, too, then he blinks, and it’s gone and he looks even more pissed than before.

Two things are certain: I am in a boatload of trouble, and it will get even worse if I don’t put some distance between his delicious lips and me.

I give him one of the smiles that make my brothers go ballistic and pat his chest. “Nice meeting you.” I grab Sloan’s hand and, pulling her with me, squeeze past him. We weave through the tables, heading for the exit.

I need to get out of here, fast, before I do something reckless. Okay, even more reckless than having a drink with my cousin when I’m not allowed to leave the academy.

My thoughts jump back to Tate. How would he have reacted if I kissed him? I grin. Kissing him is such a bad idea, but gods, it’s tempting.

I still pull Sloan with me, and we are nearly at the door, but stop short when a group of men comes in from the cold.

Traveling soldiers, by the look of them, maybe Mercenaries. They look like a whole lot of hassle, and not the good kind.

I pull Sloan aside, but we have already caught the attention of one of them. Dammit. Why is nothing going smoothly today?

His swaggering steps and broad grin have me guessing that he considers himself irresistible. I suppress a groan.

I try to relax, the feeling of the daggers under my wide sleeves and the one strapped to my right thigh a comforting presence.

“You surely aren't leaving, ladies. The party is just about to start.” The man’s voice is as oily as his hair, and the way his eyes roam over me makes me want to punch him in the face.

Play nice , I admonish myself. But after weeks of being nearly invisible—disguised as a man—it’s even more jarring to be ogled like that.

“It’s getting late.” I do my best not to sound snippy and shift my weight, angling my body so I’m between Sloan and this creep and his friends. There are six of them, but two are already heading for a table, while three observe our exchange, grinning.

“Oh, come on, we will make it worth your while,” he says.

Is he implying that they can buy us? My eyebrows creep up, and I clamp my lips shut. I won’t start a fight . Okay, maybe I am lying to myself now.

His friends stand to our left. If I shove him in their direction, we should be able to slip out the door without anyone stopping us.

But he will come after us, I’m sure of that.

He seems too proud to let us go after embarrassing him in front of his friends.

And that will leave us in a dark alley without anyone around.

If it had been just me, I would have climbed the building and let him search himself stupid. But with Sloan, that isn’t an option.

Before I can decide on my next move, I am yanked back into a very solid chest. I stiffen for a second; then I recognize the gift and his scent.

Looking over my shoulder, I meet the stormy depth of golden eyes, his hands settling possessively on my hips, and I relax into him.

Guess I don't have to fight my way out after all.

Oily loses his leering grin and quite a bit of color as he looks at the man standing behind me. He steps aside without Tate needing to say a word.

Damn. That is impressive. I wish I could do that.

“Jared.” Tate waves his friend over. His voice rumbles through my body and does funny things to my core, distracting me so Jared nearly reached us before my brain kicks back in.

Shit, I can't let him see me.

I turn into Tate, burying my face in his neck, letting my hair fall around me. His scent envelops me, leather, pine, and something fresh and cool like a winter night. His arms tighten around me.

We could die here any day, and you throw away a chance like that…Live a little. Calix's words play through my mind. Ah, fuck it.

I lean in a bit more, running my nose along the side of his neck. He flinches. I have never seen him so much as wince before, that he jerks like that when I barely touched him…It’s kind of addicting. I do it again.

What would he do if I explored his neck, his jawline with my lips, my teeth? His hand squeezes my side, maybe a warning to behave myself. I swallow the laughter bubbling through me.

“Escort Sloan safely back home, would you?” Tate’s voice sounds rough, and I nearly hum in appreciation. “I need to talk about appropriate fight and flight reactions with this one here,” he continues.

I hear Jared's affirmative and squeeze Sloan’s hand before releasing her. I can feel her burning questions without her having to say anything.

I’ll have to visit her soon. The door behind me opens, cool night air caresses my hot skin before it closes again.