Page 116 of A Promise of Peridot
I rolled my eyes. “Is that all there is to do to pass the time here?”
He lifted a single brow.
I felt a shiver kiss up my spine. “Yes, let’s drink.”
34
kane
Arwen had a sultry, curved lock of hair hanging in front of her face as she sipped her ale. It was silky smooth and shiny in the flickering lanterns of the tavern. I wanted very badly to tuck the chocolate strand behind her ear. So badly, it was making my palms sweat.
What kind of masochist tells the woman he loves that he’s in love with her, knowing full well she doesn’t feel the same? Perhaps the same idiot masochist who makes her come with his tongue and then swears never to do it again. Both reckless choices had turned merely being around Arwen into torture.
And now I was sweating over a lock of hair.
Arwen raised a brow at me. “Are you all right?”
“Just fine.” I downed the rest of my drink. “Can we get another round?”
The barmaid was a slim woman with a chest too large for her frame. She replaced our empty mugs with fresh, overflowing onesand flashed us a bright smile. I took in the tavern around us, growing busier as the light bled from the sky.
“Are you even thirsty, or do you just like when the pretty server fawns over you?”
“Careful, bird, your talons are showing.”
“Am I wrong?”
I put down my ale and appraised her. “You’re a very jealous woman, do you know that?”
“That’s rude.”
“Am I wrong?” I mimicked.
Arwen blew out a breath. “No, I guess not. It’s kind of horrible, isn’t it?”
“For you, perhaps. Envy is the poison we feed ourselves.”
She took a sip of her ale and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I spent a long time feeling less than. And lonely... It’s my default now, to assume nobody will pick me first. That you’ll find other women prettier, that—”
“Mari would rather befriend Ryder?”
“I’m going to work on it.” She grimaced. “I think I actually might owe Amelia an apology.”
“If it helps, I have eyes for none but you.”
It was true, and despite the pain, there was potent relief in being honest with her. I took another swallow of the frothy spirit. When Arwen said nothing, I couldn’t help but add, “You, on the other hand, seem to have eyes for many royal men. Is that a power thing?”
Her pinched little nose was going to be the death of me. Why did I love to torment her so?
“You are truly insufferable,” she snipped, amusement in her eyes. “It’s a wonder anyone puts up with you at all.”
“I’m not sure anyone does.”
We had been seated at a sticky table with one short leg that made for an irritating wobble, and when I placed my forearm against its surface, I accidentally sent our full mugs of ale sloshing.
“You and I especially,” she said, stabilizing the table with both hands while I wiped up the spilled ale, “seem to fight like schoolchildren.”
“Do you remember Lady Kleio and Sir Phylip?” I asked, throwing the ale-covered napkins into the barrel behind her as she ducked.
