Page 73 of First Snow
Arttu lifts his hands in a placating gesture. Emily is right.
“I’m sorry.”
Jareth shifts closer to him and slings an arm around his shoulders.
“I stopped Arttu from contacting you, I apologize. But it was safest this way.”
Arttu pokes him in the side with his elbow. It’s just like Jareth to call the abduction of a police officer the safest option. What he did should be inexcusable to Arttu. But the weird thing is, he isn’t even angry with the idiot. Because Arttu believes it when Jareth claims that he locked Arttu up to keep him safe.
Emily looks back and forth between them, the cogs in her head visibly turning.
“You’ll tell me this story one day,” she says with the authority of her Domme persona. “The adult version.”
Arttu can’t quite suppress a grin. “We’ll see.”
“So, the young Lord told you that Arttu and I left the hunting lodge?” Jareth asks, bringing their conversation back on track.
Emily nods.
“George contacted his father. He found out that the both of you left early after the party. The old Lord Briar and his Lady Wife are staying up there for a few days of vacation alone,” Tuulia says.
Jareth furrows his brows. “That’s weird. I know the elder Lord fled his hunting lodge. But why would he lie about his whereabouts to his own son?”
“Especially when he didn’t bother to lie about our departure,” Arttu adds. “Wait, how can we be sure that Briar’s left?”
“We have confirmation that he left the property shortly after us,” Jareth says. “And we have an eye on the roads leading there. He hasn’t come back.”
“We?” Arttu asks.
“I have my sources,” Jareth replies haughtily. Is Arttu imagining it or is Jareth showing off?
“At least he didn’t come back by any road you know of,” Emily says, biting her lips.
“Emmy?” Arttu touches her arm gently.
“George is worried about his parents. He says there are tunnels under the lodge, and that Lord and Lady Briar are spending more and more time down there.”
“Fuck,” Jareth breathes.
It’s getting late. Loki said goodbye, and Emily and Tuulia retreated to their guest rooms as the fire burned down. Arttu has stayed snuggled up to Jareth’s side, afraid that his conscience would make him do something he doesn’t want to as soon as he allows himself to think about this whole disaster too closely. For example, he should stop pretending that Jareth is his boyfriend, but he can’t bear it.
Arttu stares into the glowing embers. The little werelight Jareth conjured the other day is still floating around the castle. Although it’s nothing more than a warm glowing dot, the way it perches on the mantel is kind of endearing. It also reminds Arttu that Jareth is neither a liar nor a homicidal cult leader. He’s a Fae sorcerer who likes to take justice into his own hands—and Arttu isn’t sure if that makes everything better or worse.
“Don’t get lost in your head, darling,” Jareth mumbles and presses a soft kiss to Arttu’s temple.
Suddenly feeling close to tears, Arttu buries his face against Jareth’s shoulder.
“Talk to me,” Jareth implores.
“Fuck, Jareth. I can’t let you get away with running around murdering people, even if they’re magical offenders.”
The soft smile Jareth offers him nearly breaks Arttu’s heart.
“Mikael fell victim to Phyllis, right? But it was you who killed Suoranta and Scott.”
“Yes.”
Dread settles in Arttu's stomach. Although he knew that Jareth had to be the culprit, it’s something completely different to hear him admit to his deeds so openly.