Page 32 of Kings and Monsters

Bleddyn was still on his knees, letting the small creatures greet him as Eirianwen took a step toward him. His smile faltered in surprise as she took his face in her glittering hands, overwhelmed by the moment. She had forgotten how hot his skin always was, her fingers tracing his cheeks of their own accord. His hands drifted up to touch her arms leaving trails of heat before tangling in the long ends of her hair. He angled his head and very slowly kissed the inside of her wrist, inhaling her scent. It was enough to snap her out of the moment.

Eirianwen broke off the embrace, equal parts horrified and embarrassed as she let go of his face.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" she stammered.

The pixies around her scattered at the sudden change in her energy. She backed quickly out of his reach.

"Don't go. It's fine," Bleddyn said, green eyes confused.

"No, it's not. I can't. Not again." Cursing her cowardice, Eirianwen turned and ran. She heard him call for her, but she didn't stop, hoping he wouldn't follow her.

Back in thesafety of her mansion, Eirianwen stripped off her cloak and sword, dropping her clothes and heading for the bathroom. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood, determined not to let the scream inside of her erupt. Her magic whipped around her, filling the tub with steaming hot water.

Standing naked and angry in front of the polished mirror, she could see every single scar on her pale body. There were matching ones made from arrows—on her forearms, biceps, shoulders, and the tops of her thighs where the queen's guards had pinned her down with deadly arrows. Her hand rested on the long gash made from a spear that had pierced through her abdomen to come out the other side of her back. It had killed her.

Bran was the one who had found her, determined to defy the queen and give her a proper burial. Eirianwen had awoken in a cave, a place hidden to everyone but Bran. It had taken months for her to heal and regain consciousness. In that time, everyone thought she was dead, including Bleddyn. Only Eirianwen and Bran knew how she was resurrected, and about the lasting physical and psychological damage that dark magic had wrought in her.Bánánach—not dead, not fully alive.

Eirianwen climbed into the boiling hot water, letting it scorch away the smell of Bleddyn from where they had touched.

Rosa had asked why Eirianwen had never gone after Bleddyn, searched for him in the real world. The reason was she wouldn't be able to live with the hurt and betrayal on his face when he learned the truth of all that had happened. He was smart, too smart, and the more time she spent with him, themore the old hurts would bubble to the surface. It wouldn't take him long to know she was hiding something from him.

By the gods, she wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn't anticipate his reaction. They needed Merlin to get to Gwyn, and she wouldn't compromise that mission for the sake of finally letting go of her burdens.

Eirianwen had made the situation infinitely worse by touching him tonight. It had been possessive, and he had known it. Bleddyn had remembered her love of darkling pixies, even after thousands of years, and had wanted to share their return with her. She had been seconds from kissing him, and for one moment, it was as if her world had aligned before shattering to pieces once more.

"You fucking fool," she muttered before she sank under the water.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Merlin woke a few short hours later with a raven cawing impertinently in his face. "Whadd you want?" he slurred, dragging a pillow over his head. It pecked gently at his hand, nudging it with its head like a dog looking for a pat. Merlin lifted up a corner of the pillow. "Stop bothering me, or I'm going to put you in a pie."

"Kraw!" it replied before coughing up a red berry onto his chest. As he tried to brush it away, it burst, and Eirianwen's voice echoed around his bedroom.

"Join me for a meal before you leave, Merlin Seren Du, and I'll give you what you need."

Why didn't she just come to the palace?Merlin dragged himself out of bed. The raven hopped impatiently on his covers as he washed and dressed.

"You crap on my bed, bird, and I'll crap on you," Merlin threatened.

"Kraw!" came its angry response.

"That's what you always say." Merlin held out his hand to it, and after it jumped onto his palm, he placed the bird on his shoulder. "Let's go find your mother."

Merlin followed the raven out of the palace and into the streets of the Night Court. It wasn't hard for him to forget that he was inside of a tree; the Court streets had the energy of a city as Unseelie went about their business, pulling down market stalls and hurrying home before they went to sleep for the day. Merlin had decided it best to hunt for Gwyn's temple in the daylight, but it left precious few hours of sleep before they went.

The raven perched itself on a gate made of wood and squawked at him. Merlin touched the smooth handle, and the sense of Eirianwen's magic told him that he had the right place. By the time he walked through the small garden, she was waiting for him at her front door. The raven flew to her shoulder, and she gave it an affectionate kiss on its head before it flew away again. Her hair was pulled back into a messy braid, and she was wearing a men's night robe.

"Good morning, my lady. I didn't realize it was a pajama party," he said, giving her a short bow.

"I refuse to be uncomfortable in my own home," she replied with a strained smile. "Come in, young Merlin."

Unlike the palace that had a distinct unlived-in feel despite its restoration, Eirianwen's mansion was a warm, inviting place. Carpets covered the cool floors, and fires were lit in every room. Books were neatly filed on shelves, and hanging on every wall were paintings of beautiful, alien landscapes.

"Who's the artist?" Merlin asked.

"My mother was before the queen killed her," Eirianwen said, leading him into her kitchen. Breakfast had been laid out on a polished wooden table, and Merlin smiled.

"Here I thought you would be more formal," he said.

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