Page 4 of A Court of Ravens
Every instinct I have screams to protect her, even if it’s from me. The need is almost nauseating in its intensity. I’ve killed in ways that would make the bravest warrior piss himself, but that look on her face? That’s the kind of pain I’d burn the whole damn world to ash to erase.
But I’ve seen what happens when I let myself feel too deeply. I won’t let history repeat itself.
With a smirk, I lean back, keeping my tone light. “Soft? Hardly. Safeguarding the Veil doesn’t leave much room for sentimentality.”
Tomas grunts. “Aye, but it does seem to leave room for distractions. That lass has you twisted up like a damn knot, even if you won’t admit it.”
I shrug, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s be real, I’m no hero. And if I happen to enjoy occasional distractions while I do my job, who’s to say that’s not part of the charm? The devil’s in the details.”
Tomas shifts in his chair, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Details. Fascinating. And her hair, what shade might that be?”
Raven black.
Of course, Tomas knows me better than I care to admit. It’s irritating, really. “Why? Planning on taking up painting now? Or are you checking to see if I was actually sober last night?”
“Neither. I’m wondering if you’ve finally met a lass who’s managed to tame your wandering eye, and perhaps something else,” Tomas taunts, his grin widening like he’s in on some delicious secret. “Seems she’s carved herself a little deeper than the colour of her hair, hasn’t she?”
I grab the whiskey bottle again, pouring myself another shot with the kind of precision that comes from too much practice. “Focus on the Veil, Tomas. Not my life. It’s a hell of a lot less complicated, and far less dangerous for you.”
Tomas chuckles, leaning in with that glint in his eye that says he’s far too entertained. “So, did our intrepid journalist spill any secrets, or were you too distracted by her investigative techniques to notice?”
I throw back a shot. “Oh, we shared a drink, a laugh, and yes, I escorted her back to the inn. She’s here for tales of fae lore, armed with nothing but her wit and a rather incriminating photo ofyouprancing about in your glorious equine form.”
Sure, I conveniently left out the part where our moonlit jaunt turned into a solitary sprint—not just because she stopped, but because I realised I was on the brink of kicking off the prophecy, and I didn’t give a damn as long as I had her. But what Iwantdoesn’t matter, does it?
Some find forever in our twilight existence, but not everyone gets a happy ending. And if I’m forced to put her on that path, well…I’m not sure which of us will survive the fallout.
“Aye, if she writes that story, it’ll draw eyes to the island. The old believers, those who’ve forgotten, might start remembering. That’d leave the Veil wide open, forcing us back to the old ways of constant vigil to keep the darker creatures in our world from crossing,” Tomas speculates.
“She won’t write it,” I say, more to convince myself than him.
Tomas raises an eyebrow. “And you’re sure of that, are ye? On what grounds?”
My mind can’t help but drift back to the feel of her. Her body pressed so close to mine under the moonlight. She wants me, craves me, and I feel it in every stolen glance, every subtle shift when I’m near. And if she wants me, she won’t let that story slip.
“I’ve got my methods,” I reply, the corner of my mouth pulling up with an almost guilty pleasure.
Tomas leans in, mock innocence written all over his face. “And these methods are?”
“I’ve got more than one way to keep her mouth shut, and not all of them involve words,” I say, smirking as I pour another shot. The arrogance fits like a second skin—natural, easy. Hell, I could have half this damn court naked and tied up in vines if I wanted to. The whiskey burns going down, but it’s nothing compared to the fire she’s already lit.
Tomas grunts. “Gods help us all if your dick’s doing the talking again.”
“Don’t forget,” I say, my voice dipping into something smooth and deadly, “this isn’t just about her. If I don’t take aceangal, my sister’s fate is as good as signed in blood.” I let the silence stretch, letting Tomas scowl in his ignorance of my real intentions. He doesn’t need to know. Transfer the Gloam mark to someone else. Perhaps Cyn. “But understand this,” I add, my lips curling into a snarl. “I won’t let her fall to Madden. If that’s the only option left, I’ll burn this court to the ground and salt the ashes. And I’ll do it with a smile.”
Tomas gives me a look. “Your sister can handle herself.”
“You think I’m protecting her because she’s weak? She’s the most dangerous one in this court. It’s about what it’ll cost her.”
With a sneer, I grab my whiskey glass and toss it hard at the fireplace. The glass slams into the brick with a satisfying thud, and the impact cracks the brick before the glass shatters into pieces.That’show you make a point.
“I’ll handle Felicity, too,” I growl, my eyes never leaving Tomas. “I’ll make damn sure she writes exactly what we want. And the secrets of the Veil? Not a word, not a whisper.”
He pushes himself up slowly. “Aye, you think she’ll fall in line? You can’t cage something like her. Those shadows? And she chases monsters with a pen, but trust me, that’s as dangerous as any weapon. You don’t mind the pain, do you?” He shoots me a look, cruel and knowing. I open my mouth to retort, but he keeps goading me. “Because she’ll wear you down before you ever get a sentence out of her. You won’t even see it until you’re too far gone.” Tomas shakes his head and grabs his coat from the back of the chair. He pauses, sizing me up with a twisted grin. “But I’m sure you’ll have a laugh trying. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the crows get the first pick of your bones when she’s done shredding you. Can’t have ‘em going hungry.” Tomas shrugs on his coat. He heads toward the door, patting me on the back with far too much force. “Good luck with her, Niall. It’s a brilliant plan.”
And with that, he’s gone, the door slamming behind him like a prison gate.
ChapterThree
