Bite of Winter (Fae's Captive #3) - Lily Archer Page 0,11
more sway over you, and so will the feral. You could lose control. The feral might …” He trails off, but I can hear the unspoken words. He worries the feral could force the mating.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t, but there’s no reasoning with the feral.”
Just the thought of hurting her like that twists my insides. “It won’t come to that.”
“You don’t know that for sure, not when—”
A short knock at the door has both of us on our feet, hands on our weapons.
Gareth strides to the faded wood. “Yes?”
“May I come in?” Para’s voice carries.
Gareth opens the door and stands back so she can enter. Her white hair is neatly plaited on top of her head, and she wears a more formal dress, though still in the Vundi crimson.
“I’ve spoken to the elders and the high priestess.”
“And?” I glare down at her, even though she isn’t the true object of my ire. I am. I pushed Taylor too far.
“And the council will meet with you in the morning.”
“Why not now?” I need to get Taylor out of this rock prison and to the safety of winter.
“The council will have to deliberate amongst themselves for a while before hearing from you.”
Gareth blows out a hard sigh. “Fine. We could use some rest.”
“And there’s another item.”
“What’s going on?” Taylor stretches, her white bedclothes loose on her frame. She doesn’t seem angry with me. But that’s fine. I’m angry enough with myself for both of us.
“Para was just leaving.” I stride to Taylor, keeping myself between her and the Vundi.
“The other item?” Gareth broaches.
Para eyes me, as if she’s waiting for me to blow up. Her instincts are dead on.
“The high priestess would like to meet with your changeling—”
“Taylor. Her name is Taylor,” I correct her.
“Again.” Taylor rubs her eyes. “Standing right here.”
“Taylor. Yes. Our high priestess would like to speak with you alone.”
“No.” I’ve had enough of creatures with questionable motives speaking with my mate alone.
“You are under Vundi protection. Nothing will happen to your mate.” Para’s brows draw down, two dusky thunderclouds on her tan face. “Or do you question my oath?”
“We don’t question it.” Gareth is quick to intercede. “But we are, naturally, protective of Taylor, especially given the circumstances.”
“I gave my word—”
“No. The answer is no.” I turn my back on Para.
“In that case, I may as well speak to her in front of you.” A wizened fae appears in the doorway, her silver eyes dimmed with filmy white, and her back bent. I’ve never seen a fae this old, not when peace awaits with the Ancestors. Power seems to emanate from her, her skin covered with a gossamer glow and the tips of her fingers nigh on translucent with light.
“Delantis.” Para bows low.
“Aren’t you an ornery king?” Delantis grins up at me.
“Delantis? You’re the one from the statue.” Taylor steps forward.
“Wasn’t I something?” Delantis takes the nearest cushioned chair and motions Taylor over. “Hips for days and a cushy rear that made many a male beg for my attentions.” The sparkle in her eye verges on lascivious. “And you’re the changeling I’ve heard so much about. The one the king beyond the mountain covets.” She wrinkles her nose as she mentions his name. Good.
I keep to Taylor’s side as she sits across from the ancient fae.
Lifting her gaze to me, she says, “My, my, you’re half feral right now, aren’t you winter king?”
I bare my fangs. “Twice as dangerous to anyone who threatens my mate.”
“Leander.” Taylor shakes her head at me, the scolding in her tone just as adorable as her disapproval. “She’s an elderly woman. Don’t scare her.”
“Don’t be fooled, little one.” I keep my gaze on the white fae. “She’s far more than she seems.”
Delantis laughs. “No threats from me, my lord. Though I must warn you, I’ve followed the magic to the otherworld, learned its secrets and danced to the forbidden music of the moon and its guardians. The son of a rebel noble and a swordsmith does not frighten me, no matter how kingly he might be.”
Despite my misgivings, I rather like this Delantis.
“Now.” She turns back to Taylor. “I’ve come to talk about the stone.”
“Stone?”
Delantis waves a hand across her throat and reveals an egg-shaped stone with veins of silver and pearl, a large opal.
“What about your stone?” I peer at it.
“Not mine.” She points at Taylor. “Yours. Where did you get it?”
Taylor’s hand goes to her throat the same way it’s done so many times over the past weeks.