Page 127 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
The thing Tyghan hated about being king was there was no slipping into the shadows. No magic on the sly. Even from the darkness of an alcove he couldn’t watch without being watched, and there was no pretending he was happy about Bristol being in Kormick’s arms. Anything could happen. So he openly stared, his eyes never leaving them.
Melizan, Eris, and Madame Chastain scrutinized their movements too, and from various positions around the room, so did Esmee, Olivia, and his officers. They knew what Kormick was capable of. He and Bristol circled the floor, other dancers instinctively staying clear. Bristol smiled, laughed, but Tyghan noted that with each movement of her lips, Kormick grew stiffer, his expression grimmer.
“Whatever she’s telling him, it’s not putting him at ease,” Eris moaned. “Doesn’t she know—”
“She knows,” Melizan said.
What is she up to?Tyghan wondered.
“If they would stop turning, I could properly read their lips,” Julia said, stepping up beside Tyghan. “They’re discussing something about Cael.”
Eris hissed. “This was not part of our plan. I don’t like it.”
“Kormick wasn’t part of our plans either,” Melizan replied, “and yet he’s here.”
“They’ve danced long enough,” Tyghan whispered to Melizan. “Go over there. Cut in. He promised you a dance.”
But before Melizan had even taken a step, Bristol and Kormick vanished. His warriors around the room disappeared, too. It happened so swiftly, many simply continued to stare at the empty space they had just occupied. Except for Tyghan. He cursed and turned immediately to Madame Chastain. “The lock! Give me the lock!”
“No,” Eris said, stepping between them, lecturing him on the reasons why it was too dangerous for him to breathe the smoke.
Tyghan knew the dangers. He didn’t care. He pushed Eris aside, his hand outstretched. Fire ignited from his fingertips. “He can’t be far yet. Give me the fucking lock!”
By now, Dalagorn, Melizan, and Julia had closed in, providing a shield from curious eyes.
“Lower your voice,” Eris said. “We don’t want to panic the entire room.”
Kasta and Cosette spread out to calm fears.
Madame Chastain already had her own ball of fire hovering over her hand, and she and Eris leaned close as she held the lock of hair over the flames. Each strand twisted and curled, turning to bright orange embers, and finally dissolved into smoke that she and Eris inhaled. “Aramascue odemas,” they chanted as they closed their eyes.Open my eyes as hers.
“The garden,” Eris said. “She sees trees, an arbor of wisteria nearby.”
“And a fountain,” the High Witch added.
Tyghan shifted from one foot to the other, barely able to hold back. The gardens were vast, with multiple fountains. These details were not helping. “What else? What else does she see?” he demanded.
“A stone bench . . .”
Quin was already distributing weapons. Cully strapped on his quiver of arrows. Partygoers murmured on the other side of the room as Avery and Sashka kept King Roderick at bay with cheerful small talk.
“She’s looking down near her feet,” Eris said, “She sees a red starburst—”
“Surrounded by a white circle of granite,” Madame Chastain finished.
“A terrace,” Cully said. “It’s in the lower south gardens. I saw it when I was securing the grounds today. That’s where he took her.”
CHAPTER 86
Bristol’s body jerked to a sudden stop, like she had crashed into a wall. She gasped, drawing breath at last. Her skin was ice, and she shivered beneath Kormick’s hard grip. He loosened his hold on her.
“We’re done,” he said, “only when I say we’re done.”
Bristol gaped at the unfamiliar surroundings—the nearby fountain, the trees, the tile beneath her feet—and listened to the night birds—the same songs she had heard earlier. She guessed he had brought her to one of the hidden terraces deep in the Timbercrest gardens.
There was never a more perfect invitation to lash out and Bristol jumped on the moment. “You stupid, arrogant—” She lunged at his face, grabbing his hair, digging her nails into his cheek. “You scared the shit out me just so you could—”
Kormick grabbed at her flailing arms, tearing her sleeve from her shoulder as they struggled. He managed to get hold of her wrists, wincing as he yanked her hands away from his face. Strands of his hair ripped free, still wound between her fingers.
