then a few minutes with Tyriel to explain all he’d seen might ease the sourness in his gut.
Instead, he walked into the public room of the tavern and found her in deep conversation with a man so utterly beautiful, it made Aryn want to rearrange his face.
It did not help that Tyriel sat across from him, smiling bright as she spoke with him, her features animated and open in a way he’d never seen.
Another fae, Aryn noted, then reevaluated not even a moment later as he took in more about the man’s appearance.
An elvish warrior, and one with whom Tyriel clearly knew rather well.
The intimate smile on her lips as she leaned in closer, and the warmth reflected on the man’s face said it all too well.
“Master Aryn! A good morning to you.”
Gordie, the publican, came striding toward him, his voice too loud, eyes too wide, and Aryn saw the greeting for what it was easily enough. The pub owner, concerned Aryn might take jealous offense at the flirtation between ‘his’ woman and the stranger at the table so he was giving Tyriel time to set things straight.
Although gods knew, had this been a real relationship between them, he’d have given her plenty of reason to not only stray, but to boot him out on his ass. But if she had been his…
“She could be.”
“Bloody fuck,” Aryn snapped, forgetting to keep the words silent as he cut Irian off.
Gordie froze, as did every other soul in the pub, save for Tyriel and her…friend. Her bright laughter rang through the room and Aryn felt all eyes turn toward him.
Except for Tyriel.
And her friend.
The fucking elf.
“Master Aryn,” Gordie tried again. “Your lady tells me that a friend of yours is here, Lord Jaren of Averne, a noble from the High Kingdoms.”
Not just an elf. A fucking noble.
Aryn wanted to run him through and he hadn’t even met the man.
But he looked at Gordie—the poor tavern keeper looked like he might expire from a heart storm.
Aryn had never wanted so much to commit utter, bloody violence and mayhem. And he couldn’t do a damn thing.
“Yes.” Forcing a smile, he relaxed the tense muscles in his body one by one. “It’s been an age but we made plans to meet up in these parts. Thank you for welcoming him.”
Aware people were perplexed, he lowered his voice. “He saved her once, the poor girl. She’s always been dazzled by the Kin. I put up with it. We all have our weaknesses and if that’s her only flaw…well. We don’t see him that often and it’s not like he’ll run over with her and steal her from me, is it?”
He had no idea if that trite bit of idiocy would work, but he could barely think through the red swath of rage coating his mind. Cutting around Gordie, he made for the table where Tyriel sat with her friend—his table.
That was where he sat, and where she sat with him on rare occasion. Now she sat with one of her own.
I’m a bloody fool.
He took the seat next to Tyriel and saw cool, bright green eyes cut into him even as Tyriel said in a voice too low to carry, “Say nothing, Jaren. We’re playing a part and you will not interfere.”
The air was so cold, ice could have formed as the two men stared at each other.
Finally, the elvish warrior looked at Tyriel. “As you will, my lady.”
“Really, Aryn. My only flaw?”
Aryn looked over at his partner as she touched his arm.
He gazed into her wicked, laughing eyes and forced a smile. “Well, I could have mentioned that you snore, too. But what would be the point of that?”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “As if anybody would hear my snoring over yours.”
* * * * *
Gordie, once no longer terrified his pub might suffer wrack and ruin at the hands of a jealous mate, became enamored with having a fae lord in his pub. He’d gone out of his way to welcome Jaren, calling for a servant to run to the market in search of better fare and what had been a rather tame meal turned into one fit for a king—or as close as the small-townsfolk could remember experiencing.
Jaren, arrogant bastard he was, had set aside his normally aloof ways and enjoyed the revelries, spinning tales of battles he’d fought, side by side fae lords who were all but lost to legend outside the fae lands.
When benches were pushed aside and one barmaid entreated