Page 115 of Of Sword & Silver

“What in the gods’ names is going on?” an incensed male voice yells. The sound of a scuffle ensues, and the Sword kisses my collarbone, my cheek, as he sets my skirts to rights.

“We should hurry.” My admonition is ruined by the soft smile on my face.

“I like that look,” the Sword purrs at me.

“That’s good, considering you gave it to me.” I push off the wall, slightly dizzy, and head up the rest of the stairs. “Lara did well with the wards,” I mutter to myself, glancing around.

The oak parlor isn’t exactly how I remember it. For one, there are several barrels stamped with Dario’s insignia in here, which isn’t where they were supposed to be, but it will have to do. I shrug a shoulder, moving quickly around the room, the noise damped and strange here, like the air’s heavy.

“The wards are still thick.” The Sword’s muscles strain and I lick my lips, unable to help myself.

“Too bad we don’t have more time, or I would be the one making you beg.” I run my fingers along the walls, searching for the access point. “Can you break the rest?”

It irks me that I still don’t know everything he can do.

“I can’t touch the wards around Sola’s Crown,” he says.

The sounds of a fight ring out, closer now, and I bite my lower lip.

“Maybe you should send up a prayer to your god for more time,” I tell the Sword jokingly.

“Maybe,” he says evasively.

I squint at him, but then my fingers find the knothole in the paneling.

“Open for me, Kyrie sworn to Sola,” I whisper, infusing each word with a massive hit of power. I sway on my feet, the energy I expended to help convince the fucking lock to open leaving me drained.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck,” I swear.

Then the door swings open and I clap my hands, rubbing my palms together.

Caedia emerges, slightly disheveled, but grinning like a weasel with a snake.

“I can’t say I enjoyed that,” she grumbles. “Of course, I did what you asked, and did it well.

“Sword, you know what to do, right?” I glance at him and he nods, his nostrils flaring.

“I have your back.” He pulls his huge black-pommeled broadsword from where he hid it between his shoulder blades under his specially tailored jacket.

“And my front. You look good enough to eat,” I tell him, winking obscenely. “I like your sword.” I waggle my eyebrows at him, just in case he didn’t get it.

He snorts a laugh, shaking his head.

“Stop flirting. Come on,” Caedia says grumpily. “I didn’t talk deadwood from Nivor Forest into granting me passage just to watch you two embarrass yourselves.”

“I’m never embarrassed,” I tell her truthfully, but she’s not wrong.

I scurry into the secret opening, a strange tug at my center leaving me looking back at where the Sword stands in the room, his weapon out and ready to defend us.

The timing has to be just right.

Finding out Caedia retained her dryad magic was genuinely the key to this whole plan, but I try not to congratulate myself too soon. There are still too many pieces left for that.

“Gods, it’s worse than I remember,” I mutter, and Caedia makes a wordless sound of agreement from behind me.

The acrid taste of stale magic shivers through my senses and I cough, my lungs irritated, like the curse is somehow reacting to it.

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