Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,58

A couple of benches had been set up, inviting a quiet conversation. The balcony begged for plants. It seemed almost barren without them.

Maud crossed the parched stream and leaned on the stone wall of the balcony next to Helen. The ground yawned at her, far below, hidden by the breezeways, towers, and finally trees. A normal mother would’ve pulled her daughter off the rail, but then there was nothing normal about either of them.

Helen had found a stick somewhere and was poking the stone wall with it. Something was bothering her. Maud waited. When she was little, she used to sit just like that, sullen and alone. Eventually Mom would find her. Mom never pried. She just waited nearby, until Maud’s problems finally poured out of her.

For a while, Maud just stood there, taking a mental catalogue of the aches and pains tugging at her. Her ribcage hurt. It was to be expected. She should’ve spent yesterday in bed, not hiking up a mountain and dodging vampire knights who tried to throw her off the path. The booster had taxed her body further and exacted its price. She’d slept like a rock for over twelve hours. The sun was well on its way to the zenith. Soon it would be lunchtime.

She had to have missed breakfast. There were probably messages on her harbinger. She would check them, but not yet.

The breeze stirred her robe. Maud straightened her shoulders, feeling the luxurious softness of the spiderweb thin fabric draped over her skin.

Seeing Renouard last night had dredged up the familiar paranoia. It had hummed through her like a low-level ache, a wound that bled just enough to make sure you couldn’t ignore it. She fought it for a while, but eventually it won, as it always did, and she’d excused herself, picked up Helen off the couch, and carried her to their room, driven by the urgent need to hole up behind solid doors.

Arland seemed to sense that she needed it and he hadn’t offered to take Helen from her. Instead they walked in comfortable silence to her room.

Feeling Helen’s weight draped across her chest and shoulder and the familiar scent of her hair had soothed her a little. Helen was safe. They were both safe.

Once at her door, Maud had stepped inside and carefully put Helen on her bed. She put her daughter’s daggers next to her, tucked her in, and straightened. She’d left the door open and Arland waited at the threshold.

Last night, she turned and saw him standing there, in the doorway, half hidden in shadows, tall, broad-shouldered, his armor swallowing the light. His hair had fallen over his face, the line of his chiseled jaw hard against that backdrop, and when the light of the two moons caught his eyes, they shone with blue green. He took her breath away. He looked like an ancient warrior, a wandering knight who somehow found his way out of a legend and into her room, except he was real, flesh and blood, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw heat simmering just under the surface.

She had forgotten what it felt like when a man looked at her like that. She wasn’t sure Melizard even had, although he must have. Every nerve in her body came to attention. Her breath caught. All she wanted to do, all she could think of in that moment, was closing the distance, reaching up, and kissing him. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to drop her armor, to see him abandon his, and to touch him, body to body, skin to skin. Even now, as she remembered it, her heartbeat sped up.

Helen had fallen asleep. Arland’s quarters were only a short hallway away.

One step. One word. That was all it would’ve taken. A tiny, minute sign, the faintest expression of desire.

She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Instead she stood there like a statue, as if she had been frozen. He told her good night and she just nodded.

He’d left.

The door slid shut.

She let him go. She let him slip away and then she had stripped off her armor, pissed off, and climbed into bed. The booster kept her up for another half hour and she lay on the covers, mad at herself, trying to figure out what happened and failing.

She’d never had problems with intimacy. Melizard wasn’t her first, and whatever problems they had in their marriage, sex wasn’t one of them. Bodies spoke their own language, in love and