Page 81 of All the Pain of Promises
“What’s this?” Solarius asked, plucking the envelope off the table.
His knuckles whitened the second he caught sight of House Galefell’s crest.
“It’s an invitation from Lady Aria to meet for tea.” Narissa snatched it from his grasp, the corner of her mouth lifting when she saw the heat of desire flash in his eyes. “She’s in need of a sleeping draught, and I plan on delivering one of mine to her.”
His dark brow arched. “Do they not have sleeping draughts in Galefell?”
“I am sure they do. But I just so happen to make the best ones.” She shrugged, allowing him a glimpse of skin where her aqua dress slipped off one shoulder. “Besides, there will also be tea.”
“Fine, but I’m going with you.” Solarius guided her out of the dining hall and into a large corridor where starlight danced along the ceiling and the windows reflected the purplish hue of the Moonfall Peaks. “The last thing I want is for you to travel to Galefell alone and possibly be anywhere within the vicinity of Calfair Skyhelm without me around to protect you.”
“Okay, well?—”
“And before you object,” he continued, his fingers tracing idle circles along the small of her back. “I will keep myself busy so as to not intrude upon your time with Lady Aria. Now, when do we leave?”
Narissa smiled up at him, admiring his chiseled jawline, thinking about how she should plant kisses there. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” His hand slid lower, grabbing a handful of her bottom, and squeezing. “I’ll be there.”
“Do you promise?” she asked, throwing her arms around his neck.
“I promise.”
“Oh, have our things yet arrived from Windsong?” she asked, pretending to ignore the fact that he was shuffling her backward into another alcove hidden away by winterblooms. “I’m missing my box of personal tonics.”
“I believe so,” he murmured, his lips leaving a heated trail down her neck. “I can confirm later.”
“Thank you.” Her head fell back against the curving stone wall as his hand hoisted the hem of her gown, dragging it up to her hip. Warmth blossomed between her legs, and she squirmed when his fingers caressed her upper thigh. “I need…”
“Tell me what you need, Rissa love.”
“Sol,” she whispered, intending to scold, but she was already reaching for the button on his pants where he strained for her. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
He flashed her a wicked grin. “My favorite fucking time of day.”
And Narissa let him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Solarius spent the next morning searching through his and Narissa’s belongings, trying to find her box of potions. Their belongings from Windsong had arrived in a separate shipment, and since it was only two trunks of mostly clothing and personal items, he hadn’t bothered to sort through them yet. But Narissa was in need of her collection for her meeting with Lady Aria, and he’d promised to help her locate it before they left for Galefell.
He stood in their bedchamber, hands fisted on his hips, surrounded by piles of clothing and various accessories, but there wasn’t a single box in sight. Narissa said it was carved cherrywood with a bronze latch, a little larger than a book, and might make a tinkling sound due to the vials cushioned in rows of velvet. But he’d sifted through everything, emptied both trunks completely, and still found nothing.
His brow furrowed.
Perhaps she’d misplaced it?
But she seemed adamant that she’d left it in Windsong with everything else when they made their hasty departure from House Galefell. He supposed he would have to check the cottage for himself when they traveled back later today.
A stiff knock on the door jarred him from his thoughts, and his head snapped up. “Enter.”
The door to the bedroom creaked open and Nyxian appeared, the charming aura floating around him dimmer than usual. He shoved his unruly deep blue hair back from his face, and didn’t seem to care when it fell in the exact same spot.
“Hey, Nyx.” Solarius eyed his younger brother, noting the careless way he leaned against the doorframe, propping his shoulder against the solid wood. He wore wrinkled gray pants and his storm gray shirt was partially untucked, like he’d slept in his clothing of choice, and then simply rolled out of bed. Which, knowing Nyxian and his attitude toward expectations, was rather likely. “What can I do for you?”
“Mother is in her sitting room.” He folded his arms across his chest, his blithe—if not slightly impetuous—personality all but diminished. “She sent me to fetch you.”
Solarius had no desire to speak with the female who did nothing more than birth him.
