Page 22 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
He wasn’t sure if the thought enraged or sickened him. He thought once that he could rescue Kierus, too. He had risked everything to save him. He’d been a fool.
She edged forward in her seat, her lips slightly parted, impatient for his answer. Her tongue slid along the edge of her top teeth, his focus caught up in the motion of it. He needed to say something. “Tell me about your father. What was he like?”
“Why? What difference does it make?”
“If I’m going to spend time searching for a man at my own risk, I want to make sure he’s worth it.”
Maybe Tyghan was stalling, maybe he simply wanted to know what had transpired during all those years. What had her father been to her, and how much did she actually know? She knew nothing about Kierus’s prior life if she was asking Tyghan for help, the last person who would ever want to help him. It was plain, Kierus had lied, even to his own daughter.
“His name is Logan Keats, and—”
Keats.The name didn’t come as a surprise. Kierus always liked the poet. They had all been friends.
“Was he an honest man?”
She sat for a long moment, thinking it over. “Sometimes he had to do creative things to provide for our family, but—”
“Like what?”
“Various things,” she answered more firmly. “But for the most part, he was a very good man.”
Good?The word smoldered beneath Tyghan’s skin. The Butcher of Celwyth was called many things, but never good.
“What did he do in your world? For a living?”
“He was an artist, and a somewhat successful one. But we moved around a lot. It was hard to establish a reputation on the road. My mother was an artist, too.”
Tyghan’s jaw clenched. Discussing Maire was like trying to swallow broken glass. “Was?”
“My mother’s dead. She passed away a year ago.”
“Did you love her?”
Her eyes turned molten. “That’s none of your business. Do fae always ask such personal questions?”
She loved her mother.Beneath her blistering stare, he saw the anguish in her eyes, the longing.
Disgust twisted through Tyghan. It was a knife stabbing his gut all over again. He stood. He’d heard enough. “It’s time to go.”
CHAPTER 15
Bristol jumped to her feet, her palms raised, determined to stop him from leaving. “Wait! I need your answer. Will you help me find my father?”
He remained still, silent. It wasn’t a hard question. Why was it so hard for him to answer? He finally cleared his throat like something was caught in it. “I will help yousearchfor him.”
“You swear?”
“You have my word. I’ll help you search. I can’t promise more than that.”
“Fair enough,” she agreed. The deal was made.
He grabbed a wide leather belt that hung over the back of his chair and lifted it over his head, then adjusted the enormous sheathed sword it held between his shoulder blades. He fastened another strap across his chest. Bristol’s lips parted in wonder. He was overly comfortable with a sword hanging from his back, like he was simply shrugging on a jacket. What kind of fae lived in this Danu Nation? Why did he need a sword? She thought about the iron nail Harper had stuffed in her back pocket and almost laughed at its uselessness. A nail was not going to bring this one to his knees.
This is it, she thought. She was going to this strange Faerieworld, or whatever that word was he called it. Elflan? Was it going to hurt? It hadn’t occurred to her before. She knew almost nothing about this place except that it had trows, and trows took her father. A nervous tremor shivered down her arms. She forced a smile and asked, “So, how do we do this? Do we click our heels together three times?”
His expression darkened. Did he ever smile?
“It’s a joke,” she explained.
