Page 54 of All the Pain of Promises
Solarius’s jaw popped, and he pointed at him, his voice low and threatening as he said, “Consider this your final warning, Skyhelm.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He hauled Narissa out of that overbearing ballroom, grabbing her cloak and gloves from one of the servants on the way out.
“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered, planting one hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of House Galefell and into the frosty winter night.
Narissa tucked her gloves into the pocket of her velvet cloak, and tossed it over her arms, refusing to look his direction. Instead, she inspected her manicure, adjusting and readjusting the golden rings on her fingers. “Another time, perhaps.”
Her hushed dismissal only served to stoke his anger.
Solarius was no fool. He’d heard her scattered thoughts all day, he’d listened to her wage war against her own mind as shesilently debated whether or not to talk to him, to figure out why he was broody and closed off. He was really going to have to work with her on barricading her mind, especially if she planned on keeping things from him. Like sneaking off to House Galefell to deliver some sort of tonic to Calfair’s sister.
After all, he’d managed to keep her out of his mind all day. The letter he’d received from Ariesian last night had wedged itself between his shoulders like a blade of tension, and he’d concealed its infuriating contents from Narissa all day. Granted, it had not been Solarius’s intent to be cold and standoffish toward her, but he was uncertain of how to handle Ariesian’s message.
The letter was a warning.
After Drake had been denied an audience with Lord Aeolus Skyhelm, he’d slipped into the shadows and stolen into House Galefell anyway, as expected. He’d entered the house with the sole purpose of uncovering Trysta’s reasons for being there and had discovered Solarius’s mother in a secret talk with Calfair. That part of the letter had been shocking enough, but then it only got worse. Trysta seemed upset and was in desperate need of something only Calfair could access. The message was vague in terms of what exactly Trysta sought, but the price was apparently steep, as she promised Calfair more dragon root in exchange for the mystery item.
That slice of knowledge gutted Solarius.
His mother, his own fuckingmother, had been the one to give Calfair the dragon root he used to take advantage of Narissa. And Trysta did not even bat an eye, not once did she bother to concern herself with why a lord of Aeramere might want such a harmful plant. Not only that, but Solarius didn’t know if his mother had simply offered up dragon root for a trade, or if Calfair had requested it in return.
Either way, he’d held tight to his rage all day. He didn’t want Narissa to know his fury, he didn’t want her to think his family supported Calfair drugging her.
As it was, he hardly considered Trysta family anymore.
Solarius lost all trust for his mother many moons ago. Like when Trysta lied and claimed his sister, Novalise, was a simple star reader, then hid the fact that she actually possessed the legendary starstorm. Or when she told all of Aeramere that Nyxian was star-touched when Novalise accidentally struck him with starfire. Then there were all the times Trysta knowingly fabricated star readings for other nobles to suit her own needs. But he supposed his first inkling of mistrust arose when she failed to shed a single tear upon learning about the death of his father, Zenos.
Trysta had lacked any emotion. She’d been somber, sure, but to not even cry? To not show the crush of devastation one must have felt when the supposed love of her life, the father of her eight children, was stolen from this living world far too soon?
Solarius had never let down his guard around her since.
Now, her clandestine meetings at House Galefell were only serving to further his suspicions of her wavering trust.
Beside him, Narissa shivered, drawing him back from his silent musings to the present.
He hailed the next carriage, bracing one arm in front of Narissa as the sleek Eponians with midnight coats and silver manes pranced to a stop before them. The driver leapt down from the seat in one fluid motion and opened the door for them, dipping his chin in greeting.
“To House Celestine,” Solarius declared, his entire body attuning to the sweep of Narissa’s eyes as they shifted over him.
“Celestine?”
“You said home.” His tongue was sharp and his tone curt, his temper still boiling after she pulled such a ridiculous stunt.He grabbed her by the waist, lifted her into the carriage, and climbed in after her. The door closed behind him and he took the seat across from her, folding his arms over his chest. “So, we’re going home.”
The carriage lurched forward and Narissa gripped the edge of the leather seat, nearly toppling right into him. Her panicked gaze flicked out the windows toward the clear winter sky, and she pressed herself backward, chest heaving. Solarius may have been honorable and respectful, but the gown she wore tonight left so very little to the imagination that simply looking at her made his cock twitch and throb. If he had knownthatwas the dress she was going to wear to House Galefell, he never would have allowed her to leave Windsong without him.
Each time she shifted on the leather bench across from him, he got another glimpse of sun-kissed skin. She crossed one leg over the other, prim and clearly annoyed, but her shoulders bunched to nearly her ears as the carriage left the ground and launched into the night sky. If he wasn’t so pissed off, he would find her mix of irritation and alarm slightly endearing.
But alas, he continued to grind his teeth, agitated by the fact that she’d chosen to sneak out of Windsong and attend a ball at Galefell, at Calfair’s fuckinghouse, without him.
“What of our clothing?” she sniped, her teeth grazing her plump bottom lip.
“I’ll send for all of it from Windsong once we arrive.”
Narissa huffed, unimpressed. “Fine, but what about the rest of my belongings? Everything I own is in Azurvend. My harp. My personal collection of potions. I have an entire room full of?—”
“Of what?” Solarius bit out.
The coach bounced on a rolling gust of air and she inhaled sharply. “Of herbs and things.”
