Page 93 of Shadows of Winter

Crenoch crested a hill, and the city came into view. Kaylina breathed a slow breath of relief. The ride wouldn’t take much longer.

“You needn’t be concerned around me,” Vlerion said. “I do not act on the animalistic urges of my body.”

“Meaning you’re not going to make a pass at me?”

“Correct.”

“Good. I’m relieved.”

He snorted softly. “You probably are.”

Something about the way he said that told her that such wasn’t his experience with most women. Kaylina remembered the way Ghara had expressed her longing to be with him again.

Vlerion might not be as handsome as his riding partner, Jankarr, and his scarred face might not bestir a sketcher’s muse, but women were drawn to him. To the beast, as Isla had suggested, sensing it lurking even if they didn’t know of its existence. As Kaylina had been drawn. And… as she still was?

She didn’t want to admit it, but if Vlerion rode off into a forest, pressed her up against a tree, and kissed her, she might not stop him. She should after what Isla had said, but strange urges kept sweeping through her. Animalistic urges, as he’d said. Unwise urges.

They were descending down a long slope toward the city, not more than ten minutes from the outskirts, when Vlerion’s chest pressed against her back, and he whispered in her ear. “What did my mother tell you?”

It was more fear than arousal that shot through her, though there was some of both. Isla hadn’t admitted the topic of their conversation to him? She’d told him to mind his own business? Or did he know but he wanted confirmation? It was a secret—his mother had said as much—and he couldn’t be pleased that someone like Kaylina now knew about it.

“Tell me.” It was an order, not a request.

“Only what I already suspected. After the catacombs.”

“I see.”

Vlerion nudged Crenoch with his knee, and the taybarri veered off into a copse, the trees interspersed with ancient vine-draped statues. They overlooked the city from the top of a cliff, a drop-off of at least twenty yards scant feet from the path.

Kaylina’s fear intensified. What if Vlerion decided that getting rid of her would be an easy way to keep his secret safe?

After he slid off, gazing up at her with a grim expression, she wondered if she could try a knee nudge of her own and convince Crenoch to leave him and take her to the city. Probably not. She was out of honey drops, and the taybarri was busy sniffing a bush.

“Speak with me for a moment.” Vlerion lifted a hand, offering her help down.

Kaylina slid off on her own, but her leg throbbed when she landed on hard rock, and she wobbled. He steadied her.

“About honey?” she asked, nervous. “Or mead? What would you like to know? Mead is believed to be the first alcoholic beverage that humans intentionally fermented. People have long valued honey for medicinal purposes as well as eating it for enjoyment. We’ve even used it to fertilize plants.” An idea struck her as that bit of trivia came out, but she was trying to divert Vlerion from his dark thoughts, so she filed it away to consider more thoroughly later. “Early humans may have learned the craft of mead making from the druids, back before the druids decided people were the bane of their existence and a plague on the land. Over the centuries, all manner of variations have been made. There’s metheglin—spiced mead—and my brother’s favorite, melomel—mead with fruit mixed in—although if you’re talking apples, you call that cyser. Oh, and my absolute favorite is acerglyn, which uses maple syrup. That’s harder to come by on our islands, so we have to trade for it, and acerglyn is something my grandma only made once in a while. I’m planning to do a batch soon. I’ve seen maple trees right in the city.”

Vlerion tilted his head as he regarded her. At least he didn’t look like he was contemplating her swift death. No, he was probably contemplating how exasperating she was.

“I’ll send some to your mother,” Kaylina added. “She’s an unexpected fan.”

Bringing up Isla was a mistake. His faint exasperation switched to jaw-clenching hardness.

“She should not have called you to the manor. And Beatrada should not have said… whatever she said. She must have misinterpreted us standing together. I don’t know why. It is not as if we were doing anything.” There was that exasperation again. “Even if we had been, it’s none of her business. I can manage my… issue without my mother interfering.”

“I didn’t get much of a choice.” Kaylina didn’t want to pit Vlerion against his mother, but she wanted him to know she hadn’t tried to wheedle that information out of her. “Her chauffeur and strongman showed up at the castle and insisted I come.”

“Beatrada may have learned of Targon’s belief that you are an anrokk and thought I would be affected more strongly by you than by normal women.”

Kaylina shook her head, both at the term that now plagued her and the fact that yet another man didn’t consider her normal. Domas’s condemning words rang in her head again.

“But I am not an animal.” Indignation flared in Vlerion’s eyes—and that glint of savagery that she’d picked up on from the beginning, that promised he was… not normal either. Dangerous.

She tried to step back, but Crenoch was behind her, so she bumped against him. Finished sniffing, the taybarri regarded Vlerion. With wariness?

Vlerion caught the look and took a deep breath. For a moment, he closed his eyes and hummed so softly that Kaylina barely heard it. Now that she knew his reasons for doing that, it was far from reassuring since it meant he was on edge. How much emotion did he have to feel before the curse prompted him to change?

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