Page 186 of Silverbow
“You put on quite a show, Lady Ryerson.”
Enya willed her heart to steady and flicked her gaze toward the gathered dwarves. “You asked for an audience, Peytar.”
“Seeing as we’re on a first name basis…” Her breath hitched as he dragged her even closer, his body pressed against hers. It was an effort not to recoil as she thanked the gods Liam was elsewhere. Ralenet’s breath warmed the shell of her ear. “You’re wasted in Drozia.”
She smiled sweetly. “Ah, well. I have a little problem with a bounty in Estryia.”
“Nothing that can’t be remedied,” he breathed.
“How do you propose to do that, Peytar?”
His words were little more than a purr. “I do love the way you say my name.”
Her pulse went skittering as his hand drifted scandalously low on her back. She didn’t dare look toward the dais. “Hmm. It’s too bad I’ve been cursing it since you put a price on my head.”
“Is that the thanks I get for incentivizing your safe return?”
Keeping the bitterness from her laugh was an effort.
“I’ll admit, a bounty was not the betrothal I had in mind, but you are a difficult woman to track down.”
The little intake of breath was not entirely feigned. “How romantic, Peytar.”
“If it’s romance you want, it can be bought.”
Enya hummed. “And what did my father say when you asked him for my hand?”
“Haven’t seen the man.”
Her heart dropped like a stone as she missed a step and stumbled.
“Oh, do you mean Renley?” Ralenet pulled back, a devious smile flitting across his face. “I didn’t realize we were still pretending.”
Enya batted her eyes to recover herself. She tried to make her voice meek. “Returning him to me would go a long way for your…proposal.”
He chuckled against her skin. “I’m sure it would go a long way toward getting you to Durelli too. But you can’t outrun me, Enya. If I can’t have you, no one can.”
“I’m not running, Peytar.”
“You will consider my offer then?”
“I will.”
Oryn
“Easy,” Colm muttered at his shoulder, undoubtedly feeling the pulse of Oryn’s gifts at his fingertips. Oryn had shamelessly heard every word of that conversation, funneled to him on a wisp of air. Gitaela stood at his other side with Orimum, humming along to the waltz. As it drew to a close, she shoved her brother forward.
“That’s your cue, Ori.”
The Second Prince of Dwarves shuffled across the floor to cut in and Oryn released his hold on his gifts, pushing them back down deep into his chest. Leon came to stand at his side, lifting a bushy brow toward his eldest. Gitaela blushed and scampered away.
“I don’t know when she became her mother,” he muttered into his cup. “Bloody meddling.”
Ralenet skulked toward them and Oryn tried to hide his displeasure in his own drink.
“I want her returned to Estryia,” he drawled without prelude.
Leon lifted a bushy brow. “Lady Ryerson is free to do as she chooses. She’s claimed sanctuary.”
