Page 103 of Of Sword & Silver

Caedia shrugs a shoulder. “No. Especially not after what you told me earlier.”

“Good morning,” I make myself say. They both startle slightly. “Don’t mind me.”

A soft, secretive smile blooms across Kyrie’s face, her cheeks going pink as her green gaze holds mine. Gods, I want to kiss her. I want to pull her back into that bedroom and turn that smile into something completely different?—

“Can you send for breakfast?” Caedia asks brightly. “Or are you going to continue looking at Kyrie like you want to eat her up?”

Kyrie laughs then coughs, an awkward sound that quickly becomes too real.

The half-dryad leaps to her feet, returning a moment later with a dark brown bottle that Kyrie tips down her throat between coughs.

I don’t move, frozen to the spot at the overwhelming proof of the curse’s efficacy.

Why would I ever tell her I was glad she drank from the chalice and sealed her fate with mine? It has only brought her pain and suffering.

It was selfish of me to hope she’d glean an insight from my thoughtless words.

It’s selfish of me to keep trying to show my hand, when so much depends on playing my cards close to my chest.

“She will feel better after some food.” Caedia smiles at me, but her eyes are troubled, her hand still on Kyrie’s back.

I nod once, grateful Caedia’s given me something to do, some small task to occupy my mind instead of the thoughts intent on ripping me apart.

Dario’s home is buzzing with activity already. A maid in slate-blue linen bows her head as I walk past, only to realize I have no idea where I’m going.

I pivot back towards her. She glances at me in alarm, alarm that turns to shock as she takes me in.

Shock, and something like recognition.

She dips into a curtsy, her hands shaking in her skirts. A tocsin of warning shakes in my head, and I study her for a long moment, unsure of how to proceed.

No one has looked at me like that in a very, very long time.

“We require food brought up, miss,” I tell her, gentling my voice as much as possible. It’s doubtful that she does indeed recognize me, but the last thing I need is for her to have a panic attack outside the suite where Kyrie sits and plans to do exactly what I need.

“Right away, my lord Hr?—”

“I am only the Sword,” I interrupt before she can say anything more.

She swallows audibly, then curtsies again, walking backwards away from me, her eyes glued to the floor. “As you wish, my lord.”

From behind the swoop of light brown hair, the points of her ears are barely noticeable.

It’s my turn to stare.

What in the name of Heska is one with Fae blood doing here, a servant in Dario’s house?

Sorrow hits me so hard that I lean a palm against the wall, bracing myself against the onslaught. This is why I must finish this with Kyrie. For the Fae, for my people, for Heska.

For what is right.

37

KYRIE

The day of the midwinter masque dawns and I blink at the sunlight, stretching like a cat from the timelines I’ve been pouring over, tweaking them again and again.

I have hardly stopped to breathe. The last few days have passed by in a haze of work and fear.

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