Page 143 of Kingdoms of Night

He paused, his brow creasing. She focused on the forest in the distance to avoid having to look at him.

“Whatever you want,” he said slowly, his voice gentle, but his shoulders tensed. “I know I was abrupt. But I meant everything I said.”

“I’ll remember. Thank you.” She forced a tight smile and then adjusted her bag. “Probably best not to repeat.”

He had been amazing. No question about it. But that had been a mistake. Now she actually knew what she was missing. Somehow that made it all worse.

He was going to make someone incredibly happy one day, but it wasn’t going to be her.

She cleared her throat. “Now come on. You’re right. We need to get to the girls as soon as possible.”

* * *

FERON

What had happened? Judging other people’s emotional states had never been one of his strengths, but Feron was almost certain that somehow he’d made Idalno angry with him.

How?

It had been going so well.

They walked in silence along the rosy-red stone path, the lavender poppy field now far enough behind him that he could only make out the top of the pink weeping willow and some of the trees nearest the cave.

Had it not been good? No. He scowled even more. She might’ve been faking, but it hadn’t felt like it. She’d even curled up with him and joked about being a vine. Hadn’t she been happy?

Yes. He was fairly certain she was. So what had gone wrong?

Why didn’t she want him to give her pleasure? She’d seemed to like him well enough. Maybe he’d been too abrupt. Had he startled her? Had he missed something when she’d spoken? He hadn’t really been listening, so that was possible, except that she hadn’t repeated herself. In the past, if that was the issue, it always wound up stated again and again with the fact that he had missed it laid out for great effect.

He grumbled at himself as he stole another glance at her. She had taken great efforts not to look at him since they’d resumed their course.

Trust him to find a way to mess up something as simple as making someone so wonderful happy. Was there something else he could say?

He could ask, of course. But… what if that made her angrier? What if that made it worse?

Not that it mattered. He’d already failed. This was why he could never actually have a relationship. He always hurt the people he cared about whether he actually meant to or not. He’d done the same at the cottage, snapped at her like a rabid dog. Maybe she’d just realized what a useless waste of breath he was.

She was far beyond him in every conceivable manner. And while she had acknowledged his skill in giving her pleasure, maybe it had struck her that he was unsuitable in every other way.

Trust him to find a way. He always found a way—to mess everything up.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

FERON

The uncomfortable silence expanded between them, growing with each step. Feron let his thoughts wander, but he couldn’t find even a comfortable blank space to rest on within his own mind. Every thought in him split between whether Annette was safe, how he’d managed to ruin things with Idalno, and how important it was that after all this was finished, he go far, far away from anyone and everyone he had ever cared about.

The soft shuffling of her sandals on the grassy soil and the bending and swishing of the flowers couldn’t mask the awkwardness. The castle on the hill was a simple target to follow, especially once they found the rosy-red path. The mountains and forests surrounding it now appeared farther away with the castle now more centered. It wasn’t so hard to look at it now as it had been before, but that tang of magic remained in his mouth. The indigo shingles looked black as onyx and the lavender-gray stones more purple. Mysterious and ominous. And where Annette and Lalko were hopefully resting, safe and happy.

Aggravating and horrid as Puck could be, he didn’t seem like he’d be cruel to children. He probably had a tea set for them.

The sweet, fresh intoxicating perfume of the lavender poppies soon faded. Its magic had started to break as soon as Idalno had grabbed his thumb, but now it was as if it had never existed. The clarity of the moonlit night pressed through his mind and his lungs. Breathing grew easier, though his chest and shoulders remained tight.

He fished one of the seed cakes out of his pocket and ate it as they walked. It tasted good. Not quite so good as the almond croissants, but for what he usually ate on the open road, far superior.

They continued on in silence until morning. Occasionally odd cries broke the silence. Throaty roars and creaky bellows. They never drew closer. He drew a little closer to Idalno, and she did not draw away. If something came for her, he’d protect her.

Sometimes when he peered up at the sky, it seemed there weren’t quite as many stars as there should have been. Odd completely.

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