Page 248 of Kingdoms of Night

And then he saw them. The vines that grew in the hearth. Geraint had seen this magic before. His heart beat out a thud of hope when she appeared.

“You,” he whispered.

His movements were automatic. He stepped toward the vision of Enid, the fairy princess, as she materialized from the fireplace.

Enid held up her hands in warning. Geraint quickly heeded her edict. He’d been on the wrong side of her thorns once before. He knew that the highly evolved flora could incapacitate him with a flick of her finger. And yet, he hungered to reach out and be in the proximity of her vines, if that’s what she would offer him.

“You said you would help if ever I needed it,” said Enid.

Her gaze went to his pants. As did the gaze of everyone else in the room. Geraint would never have thought the high fae so forward… until he realized it wasn’t the center of his pants she was looking at, but his hip. Where he held his sword. He’d promised her his sword if ever she needed his aid.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, whatever you need.”

“I am in need.”

Geraint had dreamed of her voice. He’d gotten it all wrong. It was more melodic than birdsong. Like a caress of the cool wind over flower petals. He had to shake himself before he could answer her.

He bowed to her, sheathing his sword. “I’m at your service, my lady.”

“Will you come with me?”

Geraint took her in. She was the same beauty he’d seen all those weeks ago. Dressed in all white and a veil, with smudges of dirt and green across the silk where her knees might bend and stains of brown on the lace. Perhaps this was fairy fashion?

Vines pulsed at her feet. They unfurled, reaching out to him. There were thorns gleaming on the vines. For a moment, Geraint wondered if it might be a trap. In the next second, he realized it didn’t matter. He would go with this woman, this lady, wherever she asked him to go.

Not only because he owed her. Not only because it was his duty to offer aid to any damsel in distress. Solely because he wanted the company of an honest woman for once.

He knew he was on a mission. An unsanctioned mission that he’d come on out of loyalty to one of his brothers. But Loren had betrayed him. Geraint owed her nothing. She’d gotten herself into this scrape. She was capable of getting herself out of it.

“Lead the way, my lady.”

Geraint felt more than heard Loren’s protest. He hated that the two of them were still so in tune that they didn’t need verbal communication. That right should be reserved only for his true brothers.

He also felt more than heard Gawain raise a hand to her. “I’ll go with him.”

If Loren said anything more, Geraint didn’t hear. He was already stepping into the prism glow of the fireplace. He felt Wain at his back, but Geraint was focused entirely on the fairy leading him into a bright, fragrant future.

CHAPTERTHREE

Enid’s focus was entirely on the blonde witch left standing behind in the great room. Loren had the same sunflower bright hair as Lady Gwin. But instead of a flowing dress, Loren wore pants that covered her shapely legs. There was a sword at her hip, and her hands were balled into fists, as though she wanted to strike out at something.

Or someone.

Loren’s gaze fixed on Enid. The skin around her eyes bunched as though she was in pain. Pain was an expression Enid knew all too well growing up in her father’s gardens.

She didn’t want to cause this woman pain. She didn’t want to cause anyone pain. She just wanted to be free. She wanted somewhere where she could sink her roots in and not worry about any nasty weeds sprouting up to cut off her sustenance.

The vision of Loren’s sunshine hair was eclipsed by Sir Geraint’s large form. The tall warrior dwarfed Enid as he moved to stand in front of her. He radiated warmth as he looked down at her, like the moon had captured the sun's light and was shining it on her at night.

There was the smell of salt on his skin, likely sweat from his exertions in whatever battle he had just fought. Most plants preferred glucose, or sugar, to salt. But like humans, all plants needed a little bit of nitrogen to thrive. Enid had the sudden urge to go up on her tiptoes and lick the spot at Geraint’s neck where she saw a bead collecting. Instead, she rooted her heels into the hearth of the fireplace and called on the ley lines running beneath this fortress to take them to their next destination.

The ride out of the Valkyries’ territory was a bumpy one. Which was likely why the Goddess’ daughters preferred to ride through the air on the backs of dragons. From what Enid knew of the realm of Alfheim, only the All Father Odin traveled the world via these ley lines.

At one point, Enid got turned around. She’d meant to take a right, but right looked left. When she corrected, there was a bump in the road.

Enid stumbled. Strong arms came around her, one hand at her elbow as though escorting her through the court. Another hand rested at the small of her back, as though taking her for an intimate stroll away from prying eyes.

Her body instinctively drew closer to Sir Geraint. Her vines sought his heat. Her tongue wanted to taste the salt on his skin.

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