The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,63
a lot on her mind.”
He didn’t buy the shit I sold. “Sure.” Thick hands snared four chipped mugs from an overhead cabinet, and he placed a teapot over a steady flame on the stove. “Listen, it’s not my place to pry, but we’ve got enough going on. Don’t keep her in the dark.”
My brow furrowed. “What?”
“Whatever you and Kost aren’t telling us. She deserves to know. I’d like to think I deserve to know too.” His weighted stare spoke volumes, and I sighed.
The creaking stairs preceded Kost’s entrance. Fatigue, frustration, disappointment—a maelstrom of emotions kept him from moving silently. Socked feet hit the uneven floorboards and he padded toward us, running his hands over a fresh cotton work shirt and black knit pants.
“There are spare candles in the cupboard upstairs if needed.” He wound his way around the back of the couch and eased into one of the four chairs pushed around a small wooden table. “It’s quite dark up there.”
Leena leaned into the cushions. Tilting her head slightly, she tracked Kost’s progression toward us. It’s as if his presence reminded her I still hadn’t told her all the things I kept promising to reveal. All the things Kost knew, but no one else. Her jaw hardened.
“If it’s my time, then you have to let me go.”
Bile soured my tongue. How could she say something like that? How did she expect me to go on without her if anything happened? A sliver of red flared to life beneath the shadows.
“There’s dried lamb and bread if you’re hungry.” Ozias parked his hip on the lip of the counter and eyed Kost.
Kost nodded once. “Yes, we should all eat.”
“I already ate.” Leena’s voice was quiet but firm, tinged with a hint of anger. I gripped the back of my neck. If she was on edge, then it was my fault. It seemed like lately it was always my fault. Everything I tried to do to make her life easier kept backfiring.
Kost tossed me a curious glance. “Good. There’s no telling what we’ll encounter tomorrow. It’s best we be rested and well fed, so we can be prepared.”
Leena huffed, pushing herself off the couch to turn and fold her arms across her chest. “You know what? I would like to be prepared.”
Kost’s brows furrowed. “Are you lacking something? I assure you, I packed extra provisions, so if—”
“No, Kost. Not provisions.” She dragged the word for emphasis. Finally, her fiery gaze left him and pinned me to the wall. “I want to know what’s going on. What you two”—she gestured between Kost and me—“have been talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Stop.” Leena rounded on him, her words steely. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Don’t think I don’t know you—or better yet, you.” She turned back to me. “Something is going on. Something you’re not telling me. And don’t you dare say I’m imagining things, because I’m not the only one who has noticed.”
Ozias cleared his throat. “She’s got a point.”
Frame rigid, Kost fell silent. After a long beat, Leena took a few steps in our direction, her boots squeaking against the floorboards. “Well?”
Her stare was damning. Clearing my throat, I came around the table to stand before her. “Leena, there’s nothing going on.”
She let out a wordless noise and jammed her finger into my chest. “Don’t do that, Noc! Do you not trust me?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Then what is it? Tell me what it is, because this isn’t how an anam-cara acts.”
The room swam out of focus. Floorboards meshed with the wooden paneling of the walls, and the cobwebs in the rafters seemed to drift down and snare me. Her words, the honesty and truth behind them, branded me with shame.
And yet I couldn’t find my voice. For so many reasons. The oath wouldn’t let me reveal anything I’d been seeing. And my past… The knowledge Gaige and Darrien likely unearthed…
Hedging my words, I started with the oath. “When I said Kost didn’t think I was well enough to travel, that wasn’t a lie. I’m starting to think and…feel things that aren’t real.”
She studied me for a moment, weighing my words. “Like the nightmares?”
Kost straightened in his chair and threw me a wary look. With a long breath, I nodded. “Yes, like the nightmares. I can’t…” My throat began to burn. The specifics of what I saw—Amira, Bowen, what they’d asked me to do—tried to force their way out, but invisible fingers gripped my vocal cords tight. “I’m worried about your safety.”