Page 57 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
A patron at the next table dropped his spoon into his stew bowl. “You don’t want to see her naked? What’s the matter with you, boy? I’d take an eyeful of that pretty thing.”
Tyghan shot him a glare that was just short of piercing his skull. The man returned his attention to the stew.
Tyghan leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I said that to reassure you I would never spy on you in your private chambers. I don’t find your naked body repulsive. At all. That is, if I had ever seen it.” He cleared his throat and added, “Which I haven’t.”
The patron at the next table scooped another spoonful of stew into his mouth and, at the risk of his life, said, “If I were you, I’d fix that situation.”
Before Tyghan could respond, Cully walked in and, seeing their plates empty, said, “Good timing. Ready to go?”
Tyghan paid the bill, and when he went outside, Bristol had one hand on the reins of her horse and her other hand poised on the seat of the saddle. Cully stepped forward to offer her help again.
Tyghan waved him away. “I’ll handle this.”
He stepped close behind her and placed his hands on her waist. A tremor shivered down her back, and he leaned closer, his chest brushing her shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you before,” he whispered. “There were nobles eyeing us from the carriage house. They watch every move the king makes, and what they see becomes fodder for their evening entertainment. I didn’t want you to become part of that fodder.”
“I see,” she answered. “Is that why you sit in the shadows at Sun Court?”
“Once I’ve made my obligatory rounds, yes.”
She nodded. “Maybe I overreacted. I’ve been self-conscious ever since my first day when Quin told me my smell was attracting attention.”
“That was only the other world they smelled, not you.”
“There are stares at Sun Court, too. A few of the gentry seem to single me out.”
He was silent, his fingers tightening on her waist. He wanted to ask which ones, though she probably didn’t know one flaming boar’s head from another, but he’d seen a few of them studying her. He didn’t know what lurid machinations played in their heads, but he might need to make more than a few obligatory rounds to instill some fear in their noble hearts.
“They stare at all newcomers,” he said. “Not just you. Part curiosity, part lust. Just stay clear of them.”
He turned to Cully, who waited patiently for their journey to resume. “You’ve been slacking in your duties, Officer. The new arrivals need lessons in horsemanship. Schedule some for tomorrow. Tell Kasta.” He looked back at Bristol. “I forget sometimes that in your world, your main mode of transportation is clunky pieces of metal.”
“We manage,” she replied.
He gave her a first lesson in adjusting the stirrups, the proper placement of her hands to mount the horse, then gave her a gentle assist into the saddle, and they were off again, the lunch topic left behind them, but it wasn’t entirely free from his thoughts.
If I were you, I’d fix that situation.
He hissed a frustrated breath. He wanted to fix it. And now, with the scent of her hair still in his nostrils, he wanted to fix it right that minute, right there in the woods—but there was no fixing this mess. Not in his position.
Melizan’s words circled back to him.Eventually, we all have to take a chance on someone.He knew he was in trouble if he was even considering advice from his sister. Taking any more chances was the last thing he needed. Knight Commanders didn’t take chances. They eliminated them.
CHAPTER 39
Bristol’s spirits lifted when Tyghan said he would send squads to comb lands beyond the borders and inquire in other kingdoms for any sign of her father. He was doing more than he promised, using the kingdom’s knights and resources to help her. The squads would be able to cover far more ground than the two of them could—and their questions would plant seeds.Gold. Reward.She saw the fae’s attention spark at the mention of those words, branding the name Logan Keats into their minds. Eventually, someone would hear something. Someone would come forward.
As she waited for news, she threw herself into her training, hoping that if she couldn’t be the savior of one thing at the moment, she could be the savior of something else. She was no longer faking her commitment to the cause—it was hers now too. She especially embraced her weapons training. Tyghan’s words had provoked her.The trows are good at killing.She was determined to be better.
As busy as her days were, her nights . . . were inexplicably fuller.
It was a strange line she and Tyghan walked. By day they were still demanding Knight Commander and novice. By night they were something different, though she still wasn’t sure what that was. Every night his first words to her were always stiff, like he had forgotten how to have a simple conversation that didn’t include ordering someone around. But he was finding his way. Bristol was too. Words came easier, the stiffness melting away. She counted every conversation as a victory. He was learning to be not just civil but engaged. And so was she.
Bristol didn’t think he was having these nightly talks with other recruits, but she couldn’t be sure. He had mentioned making obligatory rounds. Was that all she was? An obligation? Part of his job? Was what she felt between them all in her head?
Tonight, the moon was already high in the sky, and she assumed he wasn’t coming at all. She distracted herself with other thoughts, especially her sister Cat, wondering how she was handling the burden of holding everything together in Bowskeep. Cat was organized and capable, but it wasn’t just about having money to pay the bills—it was about having someone to lean on. Bristol had always been that person. She crouched low with a handful of pebbles, pressing them into the soil near the base of a tree. First aC, and then a—
“What’s that?”
She gasped, and the pebbles in her hand spilled as she jumped to her feet. “Can’t you be a little noisier on your approach?” she snapped. “Or do you enjoy watching me jump?”
