Page 113 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Obviously,” he says, his tone clipped.
“Right. But you also wanted privacy. For the one bed.”
“Having anyone listen to our conversations is not an option.”
His brow furrows as he eyes the bed. I’m just teasing, but still—it’s a bed. I make a running leap and land with a bounce on my side, hand on my head, grinning. I watch his back as he glares out the window, his shoulders set rigidly.
“Ourconversation,” I tease, my voice taking on a sultry edge. “Is that what people are calling it these days?”
He does a double-take, looking at me strangely. Then, understanding dawns, and to my amazement, a faint blush colors his pale cheeks before he quickly looks away.
I gasp, sitting up. “Did you just blush?”
“No,” comes his curt reply, but I know what I saw.
“You did!” I slide over the bed, getting to my knees. “You went all pinkish in the cheeks.” I lower my voice conspiratorially. “What was it about what I said that made you blush? You, a Sluagh whose favorite pastime before I came along was watching people‘do it’for research purposes?”
Legion’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. The blush deepens, spreading to the tips of his pointed ears poking through his black hair. He faces me, dark eyes glittering with an unreadable emotion.
“You misunderstand the nature of our . . . observations,” he says, his voice low and husky.
I lean in closer, drawn by the sudden intensity of his gaze. “Then enlighten me, oh wise one. What exactly is the nature of your . . . observations . . . if it wasn’t to learn how to, how did Fox say it—pleasure me?”
The air between us sizzles. He opens his mouth to speak, but a sharp knock at the door shatters the moment.
We freeze, staring at each other.
The second knock is more insistent. Legion grunts in annoyance, strides to the door, and flings it open. Earl Larkspur stands outside with the steward and two staff members.
“Knight Commander,” the Earl says urgently.
“Earl,” Legion replies curtly.
“I brought comforts for you and your Shadow to enjoy during your stay.” Legion’s lips flatten; he clearly doesn’t appreciate the intrusion. But there’s something in the Earl’s eyes that strikes a compassionate chord within me.
I sit on the bed, waiting for Legion’s lead.
“Very well,” Legion says, waving them in. The Earl glances around with barely concealed distaste before gesturing for the servants to enter. They bring food, drink, fresh clothes, and a wooden bathtub, which they place between the bed and the wall. They fill it with hot, rose-scented water and leave. I eye it warily—it’s not too deep.
The Earl hesitates at the door.
“Is there something more?” Legion asks impatiently.
After dismissing his staff, the Earl confesses, “I would like a private word with my Knight Commander before the Shining Host gathers tomorrow for breakfast.”
After a beat, Legion says, “As you wish.”
The Earl hands Legion a card. “If it pleases you, here is a map to my chambers. Wait a few minutes, then join me there. Ensure no one sees you.”
“Understood,” Legion answers. When the door closes, he studies the card briefly before collecting his jacket.
“I thought he said to wait,” I remind him.
“Bolt the door when I leave,” he instructs. “I should not be longer than one turn of the hourglass. It is late; we’re all tired. In the meantime, enjoy the bath.”
I stare at the water apprehensively. Didn’t Bob once say that he saw a Nightmare crawl out of a puddle?
Legion huffs, but to my surprise, he doesn’t berate me. Instead, he neatly folds his jacket, places it on the bed, and approaches the tub. He tests the water, swirling long fingers through the surface. When he brings two fingers to his lips to taste the bathwater, his expression is no longer bashful but dark and intense.
