Page 37 of Deliverance

Blaise and Alaric pull their mounts to a stop, Daisy automatically stopping beside them without me needing to signal her. Swinging my legs over the saddle, I start to dismount when I feel a pair of hands on my hips. From the riot of butterflies in my chest and the tingles that emit from his touch, I know Alaric is behind me. While I am perfectly capable of dismounting without help, I don’t protest, quietly enjoying his steady touch.

With my feet on the ground, I turn and look up, surprised but not displeased by his proximity. His green eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, the curls on top of his head shining bronze in the light. He releases me as I turn, but his hands rest on myhips once more now that I am facing him. My breath catches in my throat as I get caught in his expression, taking in every single detail of his face.

“I’ll take the horses to the stable then,” Blaise comments sarcastically, breaking our moment.

I snap out of my trance and turn to help him, but he is already leading the three horses across the road to a stable opposite the inn. Cheeks heating, I glance at Alaric guiltily, but he’s grinning and shaking his head at his friend, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He’s also embarrassed for being caught staring into my eyes like a lovestruck fool.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” He gestures for me to enter the building then follows half a step behind me, placing his hand on the small of my back. It might not be much to some, but the gesture feels possessive and purposeful, as though announcing that I’m with him.

The door opens on a phantom breeze as we reach it, and the sounds of low chatter and laughter indicate that it is busy inside. I step in with a sense of trepidation, suddenly very aware of my differences. This is fae territory, I am not sure how they are going to react to me being here.

At first, nothing changes, then as soon as the prince steps in behind me, the fae in the room start to notice our arrival. The conversation drops off, and there is a ripple across the room as folk turn to look at us. The silence is heavy, but the stares are full of curiosity rather than any of the animosity I feared. Clearing his throat, Alaric places his hand on my lower back once more and guides me to the bar. Taking the hint, the patrons return to what they were doing before, and I only feel the odd glance on me.

“Well, well, well,” a warm, feminine voice calls from the other side of the bar. Slowly, she walks over to where we are, a wide smile on her lips. Pale strawberry blonde hair hangs in curlsaround her face, her eyes a silvery colour that look like molten metal. Although similar in looks to Alaric, I suspect she is a different type of fae from her long, pointed ears, which are far longer than that of the prince. Her nose is also slightly squat, but it does not detract from her beauty. The simple pale dress she wears does nothing to hide her generous curves or take away from her overall appearance.

For some reason, I instantly dislike her.

“Your Highness,” she purrs, leaning across the bar, the action pushing up her ample bosom. “What a pleasure to see you. It has been too long.” The words are innocent enough, but the heavy indication in her voice, along with the fact that she takes his hand and circles her finger over his palm in a clearly seductive manner, suggest she wasthattype of friend.

My cheeks flush red, and I look away in embarrassment, keeping my head bowed as I study the knots in the wooden bar, suddenly finding them very interesting. A surge of jealousy comes from nowhere at the female’s actions, surprising me with the ferocity of it—another very good reason to keep my head down and focus on something else.

Alaric gently but firmly pulls his hand away from the female I presume is Maria. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I lift my head, watching the interaction through my lashes.

“Maria,” he greets with the slight incline of his head but doesn’t reciprocate the warmth she offered him. “We need a room and three sets of clothes.”

“Just one room?” she asks, surprised as she looks between us. Finally noticing that the prince’s hand is on my lower back, she follows his arm with her eyes, arching her eyebrow slightly, yet her smile never falters.

“Yes, we will only need it for a few hours to clean up,” Alaric explains, turning away to look at me once more, brushing back a tangled strand of my hair from my face. I am sure I look likea total mess, my clothes wet, muddy, and clinging to me, but he looks at me as though I am wearing the finest of clothes.

A hungry grumble comes from my stomach, and I wince at how loud it is and how unladylike I must appear. However, if it bothers Alaric, then he doesn’t show it, laughing quietly.

He glances back at Maria, still smiling as he addresses her. “Can you send up three bowls of stew as well, please?”

“Of course.” She slides a key across the counter with a smile. “You know where to go.” She doesn’t need to add the wink as she says this to indicate exactly what she’s talking about—Alaric knows his way around her bedrooms. It could be completely innocent, meaning he has stayed here a lot, or it could mean they were lovers. Why does that make me feel queasy?

Movement at my other side announces Blaise’s arrival. Glancing over my shoulder, I see I am right. How did I know it was him before I even saw him? I don’t have a connection to him like I do with Alaric or Nyx—hell, or even Ciaran. So how did I know? Perhaps it is some leftover magic from the river healing?

“Hey, Blaise,” Maria calls out warmly, her smile genuine. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”

Shrugging, he returns her smile, leaning nonchalantly against the bar. “Oh, you know what it’s like, what with being the prince’s most trusted confidant and all.”

“Such a hard worker,” she teases, then her eyes narrow, flicking over his face. “You look pale, are you okay? Is this one not looking after you properly?” She jokingly gestures towards the prince, but I can tell she is concerned at the change in him.

Waving her off, he smiles again, but it is easy to see he is exhausted. “I’m fine, just need a bath and some of the finest stew in the land.”

She chuckles and moves off to serve someone else farther down the bar. We turn to exit the tavern to take the staircase outside, and I glance back over my shoulder, only to find herwatching me curiously. I am not quite sure what to think of Maria, and I keep my thoughts to myself as we climb the twisted staircase around a tree trunk to the red door. Once we’re inside, we pass several rooms before reaching one right at the end of the hallway. Maria was right, he really does know his way around the tavern.

Stepping into the room, I take in the clean, simple décor, admiring the patterns in the wooden walls. It gives the room a rustic, homey feeling. One large bed takes up most of the space in the room, with white and olive green sheets covered in a mound of decorative pillows. Two low-backed loungers are placed by the window, and at the far side of the room is a door that leads to a large bathroom.

Aware of how clean and neat everything is, I quickly take off my boots, not wanting to touch anything and make it dirty. Blaise is walking around the room and checking the locks on the windows, presumably for our safety, while Alaric watches me from the other side of the room with a pensive expression.

The tension in the room suddenly jumps up a notch, and under his gaze, I suddenly feel like a rabbit being watched by a fox that is about to make it their dinner. Staring at me through hooded eyes, he nods towards the bathroom. “Iris, you can wash up first.”

Not needing any more direction, I flee into the bathroom, grateful for an excuse to leave the room. Not to get away from him, no, I have passed the point where I am afraid of him. I leave to get away from the feeling that has been growing in my chest little by little before I do something stupid—something like trying to kiss the prince of the Seelie.

I spend longer than I should bathing, considering my companions will want to wash up too. However, I am enjoying the quiet time to myself. The water here comes through pipes, both hot and cold on demand, unlike the cold buckets from thewell we wash with back at the cottage. It’s a marvel and one I take full advantage of. The grime of travel and the river are one thing, but to wash the soot and ash from my singed skin is heavenly. Eventually, the water becomes cool, and I climb out to dry.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I hesitate behind the bathroom door. When I escaped earlier, I did it so fast that I didn’t think about what I would change into once I was clean. My gut clenches, and I bite down on my lower lip, knowing I am going to have to step out there practically naked.

---