Текст книги "Awakened"

Автор книги: P. C. Cast

Соавторы: Kristin Cast,P. C. Cast
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Sgiach didn’t say anything, so I took a breath and kept on babbling. “I’m a kid. Seventeen. Barely. I’m crappy at geometry. My Spanish sucks. I can’t even vote yet. Fighting evil isn’t my responsibility—graduating from high school and, hopefully, making the Change is. My soul’s been shattered and my boyfriend’s been killed. Don’t I deserve a break? Just a little one?”

Utterly surprising me, Sgiach smiled and said, “Yes, Zoey, I believe you do.”

“You mean I can stay here?”

“For as long as you wish. I know what it is to feel the world press too tightly around. Here, as you said, the world is only allowed to enter at my command—and mostly I command it to stay away.”

“What about the fight against Darkness and evil and whatnot?”

“It will be there when you return.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

“Seriously. Stay here on my isle until your soul is truly rested and restored, and your conscience tells you to return to your world and your life there.”

I ignored the little pang I felt at the word conscience. “Stark can stay, too, right?”

“Of course. A queen must always have her Guardian by her side.”

“Speaking of,” I said quickly, glad to steer the subject away from questions of conscience and battling evil, “how long has Seoras been your Guardian?”

The queen’s eyes softened and her smile became sweeter, warmer, and even more beautiful. “Seoras became my Oath Bond Guardian more than five hundred years ago.”

“Holy crap! Five hundred years? How old are you?”

Sgiach laughed. “After a certain point, don’t you think age is irrelevant?”

“And it isna polite to ask a lassie’s age.”

Even if he hadn’t said anything, I would have known Seoras had come in the room. Sgiach’s face changed when he was around. It was like he turned on a switch and made something soft and warm glow inside her. And when he gazed back at her, just for a moment, he didn’t look so gruff and battle-scarred and I’d-rather-kick-your-butt-than-talk-to-you.

The queen laughed and touched her Guardian’s arm with an intimacy that made me hope Stark and I could find even a little piece of what the two of them had. And if he called me lassie after five hundred years, that would be pretty cool, too.

Heath would have called me lassie. Well, more like girl. Or maybe just Zo—forever just his Zo.

But Heath was dead and gone and he’d never call me anything again.

“He’s waiting for yu, young queen.”

Shocked, I stared at Seoras. “Heath?”

The Warrior’s look was wise and understanding—his voice gentle. “Aye, yur Heath probably does await yu somewhere in the future, but it is of yur Guardian I speak.”

“Stark! Oh, good, he’s awake.” I know I sounded guilty. I didn’t mean to keep thinking about Heath, but it was hard not to. He’d been part of my life since I was nine—and dead only for a few weeks. I mentally shook myself, bowed quickly to Sgiach, and started for the door.

“He isna in your chamber,” Seoras said. “The boy is near the grove. He asked that you meet him there.”

“He’s outside?” I paused, surprised. Since Stark had come back from the Otherworld, he’d been too weak and out of it to do much more than eat, sleep, and play computer games with Seoras, which was actually a super weird sight—it was like high school meets Braveheart meets Call of Duty.

“Aye, the lassie’s done fussin’ about with his makeup the now and is actin’ like a proper Guardian again.”

I put my fist on my hip and narrowed my eyes at the old Warrior. “He almost died. You cut him to pieces. He was in the Otherworld. Give him a little break. Jeesh.”

“Aye, well, he dinna actually die, did he?”

I rolled my eyes. “You said he’s at the grove?”

“Aye.”

“Okie dokie.”

As I hurried through the doorway, Sgiach’s voice followed me. “Take that lovely scarf you bought in the village. It is a cold evening.”

I thought it was a kinda strange thing for Sgiach to say. I mean, yeah, it was cold (and usually wet) on Skye, but fledglings and vamps don’t feel changes in weather like humans do. But whatever. When a warrior queen tells you to do something, it’s usually best to do it. So I detoured to the huge room I shared with Stark and grabbed the scarf I’d draped over the end of the canopied bed. It was cream-colored cashmere, with threads of gold woven through it, and I thought it probably looked prettier hanging against the crimson bed curtains than it did around my neck.

I paused for a second, looking at the bed I’d been sharing with Stark for the past weeks. I’d curled up with him, held his hand, and rested my head on his shoulder while I watched him sleep. But that was it. He hadn’t even tried to tease me about making out with him.

Crap! He’s hurt bad!

I mentally cringed as I recounted how many times Stark had suffered because of me: an arrow had almost killed him because he’d taken the shot that had been meant for me; he’d had to be sliced up and then destroyed a part of himself to pass into the Otherworld to join me; he’d been mortally wounded by Kalona because he’d believed it was the only way to reach what was shattered inside me.

But I’d saved him, too, I reminded myself. Stark had been right—watching Kalona brutalize him had made me pull myself together, and because of that Nyx had forced Kalona to breathe a sliver of immortality into Stark’s body, returning his life and paying the debt he owed for killing Heath.

I walked through the beautifully decorated castle, nodding to the Warriors who bowed respectfully to me, and thought about Stark, automatically picking up my pace. What was he thinking, dragging himself outside after what he’d been through?

Hell, I didn’t know what he was thinking. He’d been different since we’d been back.

Well, of course he’s been different, I told myself sternly, feeling crappy and disloyal. My Warrior had made an Otherworld journey, died, been resurrected by an immortal, and then yanked back into a body that was weak and wounded.

But before then. Before we’d returned to the real world, something had happened between us. Something had changed for us. Or at least I’d thought it had. We’d been super intimate in the Otherworld. His drinking from me had been an incredible experience. It’d been more than sex. Yeah, it’d felt good. Really, really good. It had healed him, strengthened him, and—somehow—it had fixed whatever had still been broken inside me, allowing my tattoos to return.

And this new closeness with Stark had made losing Heath bearable.

So why was I feeling so depressed? What was wrong with me?

Crap. I didn’t know.

A mom would know. I thought about my mom and felt an unexpected and terrible loneliness. Yeah, she’d messed up and basically chosen a new husband over me, but she was still my mom. I miss her, the little voice inside my head admitted. Then I shook my head. No. I still had a “mom.” My grandma was that and more to me.

“It’s Grandma I miss.” And then, of course, I felt guilty because since I’d been back I hadn’t even called her. Okay, sure, I knew that Grandma would feel that my soul had returned—that I was safe. She’d always been super intuitive, especially about me. But I should have called her.

Feeling really disappointed in myself and sad, I chewed my lip and wrapped the cashmere scarf around my neck, holding the ends close while I made my way across the moat-like bridge and the cold wind whipped around me. Warriors were lighting the torches and I greeted the guys who bowed to me. I tried not to look at the creepy impaled skulls that framed the torches. Seriously. Skulls. Like of real dead people. Well, they were all old and shriveled and pretty much meatless, but still, disgusting.

Keeping my eyes carefully averted, I followed the raised pathway over the boggy area that surrounded the land side of the castle. When I got to the narrow road I turned left. The Sacred Grove began just a little way from the castle, seeming to stretch endlessly into the distance on the other side of the street. I knew where it was not because I remembered being carried, corpse-like, past it on my way to Sgiach. I knew where it was because during the past weeks, while Stark had been recovering, I’d felt myself drawn to the grove. When I hadn’t been with the queen, or Aphrodite, or checking on Stark, I’d been taking long walks inside it.

It reminded me of the Otherworld, and the fact that this memory comforted and creeped me out at the same time scared me.

Still, I’d visited the Sacred Grove, or as Seoras called it, the Croabh, but I’d always come to it during daylight hours. Never after sunset. Never at night.

I walked along the road. Torches lined the street. They cast flickering shadows against the edge of the grove, lending enough light so that I could make out a hint of the mossy, magickal world within the boundary of ageless trees. It looked different without the sun making a living canopy of branches. It wasn’t familiar anymore, and I felt a prickly sensation across my skin, like my senses were on super alert.

My eyes kept being pulled to the shadows within the grove. Were they blacker than they should be? Was there something not quite right lurking inside there? I shivered, and that’s when a movement farther down the street caught at the edge of my vision. My heart skittered around in my chest while I peered ahead of me, half expecting wings and coldness, evil and madness …

Instead what I saw had my heart skittering for other reasons.

Stark was there, standing in front of two trees that were twisted together to form one. The trees’ interwoven branches were decorated with strips of cloth knotted together—some were brightly colored, some were worn and faded and tattered. It was the mortal version of the hanging tree that had stood before Nyx’s Grove in the Otherworld, but just because this one was in the “real” world didn’t mean it was any less spectacular. Especially when the guy standing in front of it, staring up at its branches, was wearing the earth-colored MacUallis plaid, in the traditional Warrior way, complete with dirk and sporran and all sorts of sexy metal-studded leather accoutrements (as Damien would say).

I stared at him as if I hadn’t seen him for years. Stark looked strong and healthy and totally gorgeous. I was distracting myself by wondering what exactly Scottish guys did, or didn’t, wear under those kilts when he turned to face me.

His smile lit up his eyes. “I can practically hear you thinking.”

My cheeks got instantly warm, especially since Stark did have the ability to sense my emotions. “You’re not supposed to be listening in unless I’m in danger.”

His grin turned cocky and his eyes sparkled mischievously. “Then don’t think so loud. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have been listening in ’cause what I was getting from you was the opposite of what I’d call danger.”

“Smart-ass,” I said, but I couldn’t help grinning back.

“Yep, that’s me, but I’m your smart-ass.”

Stark held out his hand to me as I reached his side, and our fingers twined together. His touch was warm—his hand strong and steady. This close to him I could see that he still had shadows under his eyes, but he wasn’t as deadly pale as he had been. “You’re yourself again!”

“Yeah, it’s taken me a while; my sleep’s been weird—not as restful as it should be, but it’s like a switch flipped inside me today and I finally recharged.”

“I’m glad. I’ve been so worried about you.” As I said it I realized how true that was, and I also blurted, “I’ve missed you, too.”

He squeezed my hand and tugged me closer to him. All of his cocky kidding evaporated. “I know. You’ve felt distant and scared. What’s up with that?”

I started to tell him he was wrong—that I was just giving him some space to get well, but the words that formed and slipped from my lips were more honest. “You’ve been hurt a lot because of me.”

“Not because of you, Z. I’ve been hurt because that’s what Darkness does—it tries to destroy those of us who fight for Light.”

“Yeah, well, I wish Darkness would pick on someone else for a while and let you rest.”

He bumped me with his shoulder. “I knew what I was getting into when I swore myself to you. I was cool with it then—I’m cool with it now—and I’ll still be cool with it fifty years from now. And, Z, it really doesn’t make me sound very manly and Guardian-like when you say Darkness is ‘picking on’ me.”

“Look, I’m being serious. You want to know what’s up with me, well, I’ve been worried that you might have been hurt too bad this time.” I hesitated, fighting unexpected tears as I finally understood. “So bad that you weren’t gonna get well. And then you would leave me, too.”

Heath’s presence was so tangible there between us that I half expected to see him step from the grove and say Hey there, Zo. No crying. You snot way too much when you cry. And of course that thought made it even harder for me not to bawl.

“Listen to me, Zoey. I’m your Guardian. You’re my queen; that’s more than a High Priestess, so our bond is even stronger than a regular Oath Sworn Warrior’s.”

I blinked hard. “That’s good, ’cause it feels like bad stuff keeps trying to tear me away from everyone I love.”

“Nothing will ever take me away from you, Z. I’ve sworn my oath on it.” He smiled, and there was such confidence and trust and love in his eyes that he made my breath catch in my throat. “You’ll never get rid of me, mo bann ri.”

“Good,” I said softly, leaning my head against his shoulder as he drew me inside the half circle of his arm. “I’m tired of the whole leaving thing.”

He kissed my forehead, murmuring against my skin, “Yeah, me, too.”

“Actually, I think the truth is that I’m tired. Period. I need to recharge, too.” I looked up at him. “Would it be okay with you if we stayed here? I-I just don’t want to leave and go back to … to…” I hesitated, not sure how to put what I was feeling into words.

“To everything—the good and the bad. I know what you mean,” said my Guardian. “It’s cool with Sgiach?”

“She said we could stay as long as my conscience lets me,” I said, smiling a little wryly. “And right now my conscience is definitely letting me.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m in no rush to get back to all the Neferet drama that’s gotta be waiting for us.”

“So we stay for a while?”

Stark hugged me. “We stay until you say to go.”

I closed my eyes and rested in Stark’s arms, feeling like a huge weight had been taken off me. When he asked, “Hey, would you do something with me?” my response was instant and easy: “Yep, anything.”

I could feel him chuckling. “That answer makes me want to change what I was gonna ask you to do.”

“Not that kind of anything.” I gave him a little shove, even though I was feeling waves of relief that Stark was definitely acting like Stark again.

“No?” His gaze went from my eyes to my lips, and he suddenly looked less cocky and more hungry—and that look made my stomach shiver. Then he bent and kissed me, hard and long, and he completely took my breath away. “Are you sure you don’t mean that kind of anything?” he asked, his voice lower and gruffer than usual.

“No. Yes.”

He grinned. “Which is it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think when you kiss me like that,” I told him honestly.

“Then I’ll have to do more of that kind of kissing,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, feeling light-headed and weirdly weak-kneed.

“Okay,” he repeated. “But later. Right now I’m going to show you how strong a Guardian I am and stick to the original question I was gonna ask you.” He reached into the leather satchel that was strapped across his body and pulled out a long, narrow strip of the MacUallis plaid, lifting it so that it floated gently on the breeze. “Zoey Redbird, would you tie your wishes and your dreams for the future with me in a knot on the hanging tree?”

I hesitated for only a second—only long enough to feel the sharp pain that was the absence of Heath, the absence of a future thread that could never be—and then I blinked my eyes clear of tears and answered my Guardian Warrior.

“Yes, Stark, I’ll tie my wishes and dreams for the future with you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Zoey

“I have to do what to my cashmere scarf?”

“Tear a strip from it,” Stark said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I got the instructions straight from Seoras. That and a bunch of smart-ass comments about my education being sadly lacking and something about not knowing my arse from my ear or my elbow, and also something about me being a fanny, and I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“Fanny? Like a girl’s name?”

“I don’t think so…”

Stark and I shook our heads, in total agreement about Seoras and his weirdness. “Anyway,” Stark continued, “he said the pieces of fabric have to be from something that’s mine and something that’s yours, and it has to be special to each of us.” He smiled and tugged at my shimmery, expensive, beautiful new scarf. “You like this thing a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah, enough that I don’t want to rip it up.”

Stark laughed, pulled his dirk from the sheath at his waist, and handed it to me. “Good, then that tied with my plaid will make a strong knot between us.”

“Yeah, that plaid didn’t cost you eighty euros, which is more than a hundred dollars. I think,” I muttered as I reached for the dirk.

Instead of letting me take the dirk from him, Stark hesitated. His eyes found mine. “You’re right. It didn’t cost me money. It cost me blood.”

My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. Listen to me, whining about money and a scarf. Ah, hell! I’m starting to sound like Aphrodite.”

Stark flipped the dirk around so that it pressed against his chest over his heart. “If you turn into Aphrodite I’m going to stab myself.”

“If I turn into Aphrodite, stab me first.” I reached for the dirk, and this time he gave it to me.

“Deal.” He grinned.

“Deal,” I said, and then I pierced the fringy edge of my new scarf and with one quick yank ripped a long, slender piece from it. “Now what?”

“Pick a branch. Seoras said I’m supposed to hold my piece, and you hold yours. We tie them together, and the wish we make for us will be tied together.”

“Really? That’s super romantic.”

“Yeah, I know.” He reached out and traced my cheek with one finger. “It makes me wish I’d made it up, just for you.”

I looked into his eyes and said exactly what I was thinking. “You’re the best Guardian in the world.”

Stark shook his head, his expression tight. “I’m not. Don’t say that.”

As he had done to me, I traced his cheek with a finger. “For me, Stark. For me you’re the best Guardian in the world.”

He relaxed a little. “For you, I’ll try to be.”

I looked from his eyes to the ancient tree. “There.” I pointed to a low-hanging branch that forked, creating with leaves and limbs what looked like a perfect heart. “That’s our place.”

Together we went to the tree. Then, like Sgiach’s Guardian had instructed, Stark and I tied the earth-colored MacUallis plaid and my shimmery length of cream together. Our fingers brushed and as we looped the last part of the knot, our eyes met.

“My wish for us is that our future is strong, just like this knot,” Stark said.

“My wish is that our future is together, just like this knot,” I said.

We sealed our wishes with a kiss that made me breathless. I was leaning into Stark to kiss him again when he took my hand in his and said, “Would you let me show you something?”

“Okay, sure,” I said, thinking that just about then I’d let Stark show me anything.

He started leading me into the grove, but he felt my hesitation because he squeezed my hand and smiled down at me. “Hey, there’s nothing here that can hurt you, and if there was I’d protect you. I promise.”

“I know. Sorry.” I swallowed past the weird little knot of fear that had formed in my throat, squeezed his hand back, and we walked into the grove.

“You’re back, Z. Really back. And you’re safe.”

“Doesn’t it remind you of the Otherworld, too?” I spoke quietly and Stark had to bend to hear me.

“Yeah, but in a good way.”

“Me, too, most of the time. I feel stuff here that makes me think of Nyx and her realm.”

“I think it has something to do with how old this place is, and how apart from the world it’s been. Okay, it’s over here,” he said. “Seoras was telling me about this, and I thought I saw it just before you came up. This is what I wanted to show you.” Stark pointed ahead and to the right of us, and I gasped in pleasure. One of the trees was glowing. From within the craggy lines in its thick bark, a soft blue light glistened, as if the tree had luminous veins.

“It’s amazing! What is it?”

“I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation—probably something about phosphorous plants and stuff, but I’d rather believe it’s magick, Scottish magick,” Stark said.

I looked up at him, smiled, and tugged at his plaid. “I like calling it magick, too. And speaking of Scottish stuff, I’m seriously liking you in this outfit.”

He glanced down at himself. “Yeah, weird that what’s basically a dress made out of wool can look so manly.”

I giggled. “I’d like to hear you tell Seoras and the rest of the Warriors that they’re wearing woolly dresses.”

“Hell, no. I just came from the Otherworld, but that doesn’t mean I have a death wish.” Then he seemed to reconsider what I’d just said, and added, “You like me in this, huh?”

I crossed my arms and walked a circle around him, giving him a serious once-over while he watched me. The colors of the MacUallis plaid always reminded me of the earth—weirdly enough, Oklahoma red dirt earth to be specific. That distinctive rusty brown was mixed with lighter just-changed-leaves and bark-like gray-black, lighter just-changed-leaves. He wore it the ancient way, like Seoras had taught him, pleating all those yards of material by hand and then wrapping himself into it and securing it with belts and cool old brooches (except I didn’t think Warrior guys called them brooches). He had another piece of plaid that he could pull up over his shoulders, which was a good thing because except for the crisscross leather belt things, all he wore over his chest was a sleeveless T-shirt that left lots of his skin bare.

He cleared his throat. His half grin made him look a little boyish and kinda nervous. “So? Do I pass your inspection, my queen?”

“Totally.” I grinned. “With a big A-plus.”

I liked it that even though he was a big, tough Guardian, he looked relieved. “Glad to hear it. Check out how handy all this wool is.” He took my hand and led me closer to the glowing tree, and sat down, spreading part of his plaid out over the moss. “Have a seat, Z.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, curling up beside him. Stark pulled me into his arms and flipped up the edge of the kilt over me so that I was warm, cocooned in what felt like a lovely Warrior-and-plaid sandwich.

We lay there like that for what seemed like a long time. We didn’t talk. Instead we sank into a beautiful, comfortable silence. It felt right to be in Stark’s arms. Safe. And when his hands started to move, tracing the pattern of my tattoos, first on my face and then down my neck, that felt right, too.

“I’m glad they came back,” Stark said softly.

“It was because of you,” I whispered back. “Because of what you made me feel in the Otherworld.”

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “You mean scared and freaked out?”

“No,” I said, touching his face. “You made me feel alive again.”

His lips went from my forehead to my mouth. He kissed me deeply and then, against my lips, he said, “That’s good to hear, ’cause the whole thing with Heath, and almost losing you, has made me know something for real that I only kinda knew before. I can’t live without you, Zoey. Maybe I’ll only be your Guardian, and you’ll have another consort or even a mate, but whoever else you have in your life won’t change who I am to you. I’ll never get pissed and selfish again and leave you. No matter what. I’ll deal with other guys, and it won’t change us. I swear.” He sighed then and pressed his forehead against mine.

“Thank you,” I said. “Even if it does kinda sound like you’re giving me away to other guys.”

He leaned back, frowned at me, and said, “That’s just bullshit, Z.”

“Well, you just said that it’s cool with you if I’m with—”

“No!” He shook me a little. “I didn’t say I was cool with you being with other guys. I said I wouldn’t let it break up what we have.”

“What do we have?”

“Each other. For always.”

“That’s enough for me, Stark.” I twined my arms around his shoulders. “Would you do something with me?”

“Yep, anything,” he echoed my answer, making both of us smile.

“Kiss me like you did before so that I can’t think.”

“I can handle that,” he said.

Stark’s kiss started out as slow and sweet, but it didn’t stay that way for long. As his kiss deepened, his hands began to explore my body. When he found the bottom edge of my T-shirt he hesitated, and it was during that tiny moment of hesitation that I made my decision. I wanted Stark. I wanted all of him. I pulled away from him so that I could look into his eyes. We were both breathing hard and he automatically leaned toward me, like he couldn’t stand not being pressed against my body.

“Wait.” I put my hand flat against his chest.

“Sorry.” His voice sounded gruff. “I didn’t mean to come on too strong.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re not coming on too strong. I just wanted to … well…” I hesitated, trying to make my mind work through the fog of desire I was feeling for him. “Ah, hell. I’ll show you what I want.” Before I could get shy or embarrassed, I stood up. Stark was watching me with an expression that was curiosity mixed with heat, but when I pulled off my shirt, undid and stepped out of my jeans, the curiosity went away and his eyes seemed to darken with the heat. I lay back down within the safety of his arms, loving the sensation of the roughness of his plaid against the smoothness of my naked skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” Stark said, tracing the pattern of my tattoo that wrapped around my waist. His touch made me tremble. “Are you scared?” he asked, pulling me closer.

“I’m not trembling because I’m scared,” I whispered against his lips between kisses. “I’m trembling because of how much I want you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Totally sure. I love you, Stark.”

“I love you, too, Zoey.”

Stark took me in his arms then, and with his hands and his lips, he blocked out the world, making me think only about him—want only to be with him. His touch banished the ugly memory of Loren, and the mistake I’d made giving myself to him, into the mists of the past. At the same time Stark soothed the hurt inside me left by Heath’s loss. I would always miss Heath, but he had been human, and as Stark made love to me I understood that I would have had to say goodbye to Heath eventually.

Stark was my future—my Warrior—my Guardian—my love.

When Stark unwrapped the MacUallis plaid from around his body and lay naked beside me, he bent and I felt his tongue first against the pulse at my neck, and then a brief, questioning touch of his teeth.

“Yes,” I said, surprised by the breathless, unfamiliar sound of my voice. I shifted my body so that Stark’s lips pressed more firmly against my neck, while I kissed the strong, smooth slope where his shoulder met his biceps. With my own wordless question, I let my teeth graze his skin.

“Oh, goddess, yes! Please, Zoey. Please.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. I nicked his skin at the same moment he bit gently into my neck, and with the warm, sweet taste of his blood my body was filled with our shared feelings. The bond between us was like fire—it burned and consumed, almost painful in its intensity. Almost unbearable in its pleasure. We clung to each other, mouths pressed against skin, body against body. All I could feel was Stark. All I could hear was the pounding of our hearts beating in time together. I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I couldn’t tell which pleasure was mine, and which was his. Afterward while I lay in his arms, our legs twined together, our bodies still slick with sweat, I sent a silent prayer to my Goddess: Nyx, thank you for giving Stark to me. Thank you for letting him love me.

* * *

We didn’t leave the grove for hours. Later I would remember that night as one of the happiest of my life. In the chaos of the future, the memory of being wrapped in Stark’s arms, sharing touches and dreams, and for that moment in time being completely, utterly content, would be something I cherished, like the warm glow of candlelight on the darkest of nights.

Much later we walked slowly back to the castle. Our fingers were threaded together, our sides brushed intimately. We’d just crossed the moat bridge, and I’d been so wrapped up in Stark that I hadn’t even noticed the staked heads. Actually, I hadn’t noticed much of anything until Aphrodite’s voice intruded.

“Oh, for shit’s sake. Could you two be more obvious?”

I lifted my head dreamily from Stark’s shoulder and saw Aphrodite standing in a pool of torchlight at the entrance to the castle, toe tapping in annoyance.

“My beauty, leave them be. They’ve earned their piece of happiness.” Darius’s deep voice came from the shadows beside her.

One fine blond eyebrow lifted mockingly. “I don’t think happiness is the piece she just gave Stark.”

“Seriously, even your crudeness can’t bother me right now,” I told her.

“It can bother me, though,” Stark said. “Shouldn’t you be pulling the wings off seagulls or the claws off crabs?”

Aphrodite acted like Stark hadn’t spoken and walked up to me. “Is it true?”

“Is what true? That you’re a pain in the butt?” I said.

Stark snorted. “That’s definitely true.”

“If it’s true, then you’re gonna have to tell him. I’m not listening to him blubber.” Aphrodite waved her iPhone around, using it to punctuate her words.

“Jeesh, you’re acting super crazy, even for you,” I said. “Do you need shopping therapy intervention? Is. What. True?” I spoke slowly, pretending she was an English-as-a-second-language-learner.

“Is it true what the Queen of Every Damn Thing Skye just told me—that you’re not leaving with us tomorrow? That you’re staying here?”

“Oh.” I shuffled my feet, wondering why I should feel guilty. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Great. Just great. Then, like I said before, you tell him.”

“Who him?”

“Jack. Here. He’s gonna burst into snotty tears and ruin his makeup, which will make him boo-hoo even more. And I want nothing to do with gay snot. At all.” Aphrodite punched the screen of her phone. It was ringing when she handed it to me.