Page 70 of The Rowan's Stone
Theron sent off a petition to the current dark Elven king to request access to his archives. He explained he was researching changes in monarchies over the last five thousand years and wanted to get an idea of the roles and responsibilities of the servants in those households. This would ensure we would get access to the right records.
After grabbing a shower, I lie on my bed, thinking about the most recent revelations. If Catriona mated with the old king’s son, would she have told his father about the MacAllister massacre? Is that what prompted his letter to the dark Fae king? Did the Primary find out and make a deal with the current dark Elven king to kill the old one? Or did she try to make a deal with the old Elven king and he refused, which led to his death? Alain said she was making deals right and left during this time, but with whom?
From my father, I inherited two dead but powerful lineages—the MacAllisters and the old dark Elven king’s royal line. Frowning, I pick up my phone and send a text to Theron. He replies back immediately with the name Balinor. The MacAllisters and the Balinors. This is the second secret my father was hiding, which is why my mother bound my powers. By hiding my other half, she prevented the dark elves from finding me.
I dart a glance at the Killian blades hanging on the wall. Remembering what the woman in the village said, I wonder if the blacksmith was indeed the old king’s son. But if so, why did he create the blades? Blowing the hair out of my eyes, I realize I don’t have enough information to answer all the questions yet, but the picture is forming.
Someone knocks on the door, and I get up to answer it, only to find Astor standing in the hall with his blood magic kit in his hands. His eyes light up when he sees me in my tank top and briefs.
“Hello, gorgeous. It must be my day to be tortured,” he jokes, but his eyes devour me. “We received permission to search the archives. Given how dangerous it is for you, I don’t suppose you’d consider staying here? I’ll stay with you.”
I tilt my head and cock my eyebrow. “Good try.” I prefer to know my enemies and look them in the face.
“I didn’t think so,” he says, shrugging. “On the bright side, I get to experiment with a new blood magic concealing spell.” He holds up the kit. “We need to make sure your tattoo isn’t detected. Mind if I come in?”
He scans the room and grimaces.
“The desk would probably work best.” Setting down the kit, he motions for me to take a seat sideways in the chair to allow him access to my back. “Do you mind pulling your hair to the side? And slide your strap down?” His voice is gruff when he makes the requests.
Pulling my hair to the other side, I slide my strap down to my shoulder. “Is this okay?” I ask, laughter in my voice.
“Minx,” he chides. Picking up the knife, he slices his palm and drops blood into the bowl. He dips his finger into the bowl and brings it up to my shoulder, where he lightly traces over the tattoo while murmuring the spell.
His fingers skim my shoulder, and I shiver. He’s not the only one this is affecting.
“It worked,” he informs me. “I don’t think it will hold for more than a few hours, but Theron doesn’t think we’ll need much time.”
When I look over my shoulder in the bathroom mirror, I see a few smears of blood, but the tattoo is gone. Surprisingly, it makes me a little sad and anxious. What if it doesn’t come back? Astor’s hand comes down on my other shoulder, and I peer into the mirror and meet his eyes.
“It will come back,” he promises huskily. Grabbing a washcloth, he gently wipes the blood off my shoulder and drops a kiss on top.
Turning back around, I lay my hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper, reaching up to give him a soft kiss, then another, my lips lingering on his. It’s been so long since I tasted him, and every time I do, I need more. Desire swirls in me as I pull his lower lip between mine and slide my tongue over it.
“Arden.” His voice is strained as he drawls my name. “I’m hanging on by a thread.”
“Kiss me,” I demand, wanting it more than I want to breathe.
The thread snaps, and his lips descend on mine, claiming and owning them. They devour, pulling every bit of response from me, while ripping apart my world. Moaning my surrender, I kiss him back, needing him to know how I feel. The kiss slows for a second, as if he’s going to stop, but he groans and deepens it again. Lost to everything, it takes us a moment to realize the phone is ringing.
He pulls back and places soft kisses on my lips. His hand is wrapped around my jaw, while his thumb caresses my cheek. I grip his wrist and try to catch my breath.
“I’ve been dreaming of that kiss for weeks,” he admits. “But nothing could have prepared me for the reality.” His brown eyes are dark with emotion. “Tell me you don’t regret it.”
“I don’t regret it,” I tell him, stroking his wrist. The phone stops ringing, then starts up again. “Do we need to go?”
He drops a kiss on my lips. “Yes, we were supposed to be downstairs five minutes ago. It’s court, so you’ll need to wear something dressy. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
Pulling the sleek purple tailored dress out of the closet, I decide it will have to work and pair it with black heels. Using magic, I dry my hair and pull it into a sleek bun to match, then add some makeup. My lips are puffy from the kiss, but the rest of me is sleek and sophisticated, so I grab my phone and run out the door.
“Purple, nice choice. Theron’s going to love it,” he teases me.
“It’s not as if I have many clothes right now,” I remind him. If this dress hadn’t been at the dry cleaner when Amelie broke into my hotel room, I’m sure she would have destroyed it too.
He runs a finger down my spine, giving me goosebumps. “Always gorgeous,” he assures me.
“Hmm, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I tell him, studying his black button-down shirt and pants, which he’s topped with a sharp blazer.
When the elevator stops, I step out and find Theron pacing and Daire leaning against the wall.
