Page 14 of Cathmoir's Sons

She twists to smile up at her husband.

While all eyes are on Teddy and the demonkin, Caileán digs her claw into my knuckle, then rubs her thumb across the back of my hand, smearing the blood.

“Come in an hour,” she whispers to me. Then she turns to the Holly King. “Will you forgive me? I’m fatigued.”

“Of course.” He rises and bows to her, taking a step back so his horns don’t catch her. “Perhaps I could see you tomorrow before I return to Ivywhile?”

“I’d like that,” she responds. “Noon here? We could take a nice ... walk around the Thistlemist gardens.”

Luca sniggers almost silently.

“I’ll look forward to it.” The Holly King bows again.

Caileán nods to everyone around the table before she slips away, pausing at the high table where Jane Serpa sits talking with Callan Dùbhghlas and an ancient fae lady. Jane says her goodnights quickly and accompanies Caileán out of the ballroom.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I say when the Holly King starts to sit down. I don’t offer to bring him anything, which is probably discourteous of me as his guest, but he just made a date with my mate, so I’m not feeling friendly.

As I leave the table, I beckon Luca after me with a finger. He follows me to the bar and while the bartender fixes our scotch and soda, I show him the back of my hand.

He licks away the blood, then examines the scratches. “It’s an incantation. I don’t want to say it out loud, but I think it’ll take us to the Court of Cold Mist when I do.”

“She said come in an hour,” I say.

Luca beams. “She wants us to join her at Ceòfuar.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “Beats a walk in the Thistlemist gardens.”

Luca chortles.

We kill the hour sipping our drinks and talking to Rae. Now that she’s broken her silence, she’s friendly, asking us about Bevington when Luca tells her we’re students there. She doesn’t show any recognition when we mention teachers or classes, but it’s hard to gauge her expression with the mask covering her face. She tells us about the great pubs in Ireland and encourages us to visit Ashegold. I ask careful questions about wild fae at the Irish court and am encouraged when she says that Ashegold is more welcoming than Thistlemist.

As the hour wanes, Rae excuses herself. Luca and I follow so it looks like we’re pursuing her. We leave the Holly King smirking.

It’s tempting to whisper where we’re really going and wipe that smug smile off his fucking high fae face. So tempting. But the promise of holding my mate again tonight without his interference keeps me silent.

It takes Luca and me a good ten minutes to find a private corner to recite the incantation. Thistlemist is just crawling with high fae. They’re in every nook and cranny, most of them humping furtively.

“Don’t they have beds at this court?” Luca hisses when we turn away from yet another promising dead-end after we smell what’s happening in it.

“Perhaps they’re uncomfortable,” I suggest. “All those soft mattresses and fuzzy peas.”

Luca chuckles. I’m sure he remembers the “princess pea story” as well as I do. It was Aine’s favorite story when she was a toddler. She had an illustrated book and the pea was covered with fluffy green fabric. She’d cry if one of us didn’t read her the “fuzzy pea” story every night.

“Perhaps they’re occupied by their husbands and wives,” Luca quips.

I nod. I noticed many couples who seemed together at the beginning of the ball but were straying by the time we left. The high fae are notorious for their infidelities as they chase after heirs.

“Do you think the need for an heir could be behind the Holly King’s suit?” I ask Luca.

He shrugs. “That’s as plausible as any other reason.”

“I don’t trust him,” I tell Luca, not for the first time.

“Me, neither. I noticed you eying his head. Good job not biting it off. Dad would’ve been upset.”

I grin. “It’s a monumental temptation. And I still haven’t ruled it out completely.”

Luca chuckles and beckons me down another alley. He stops and takes a deep sniff. I follow suit. It stinks of sweat and semen, but the smell isn’t fresh.

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