“Ladies first.” Rían scooted the plate toward me.
“What do I do?”
“You get one.”
“One what?”
Rían gestured toward the plate.
He couldn’t be serious. And yet helookedserious. “I’m not sticking my hand in fire.”
Rían’s eyes never left mine as he stuck his hand straight in, grabbed a flaming raisin, and popped it into his mouth.
“Last time we played this, it took a feckin’ month for the hair on my arm to grow back,” Ruairi grumbled, thrusting his hand into the fire and coming out with an almond.
Tadhg went next, moving quicker than anyone should have been able to move.
“This isn’t fair. I’m not as fast as you are.” Even so, I thrust my hand into the flames. It stung for a split second, but the pain quickly faded as I pulled out a flaming raisin. The bloomin’ thing burnt the roof of my mouth, but I’d done it. I grabbed my glass of wine to ease the sting.
Around and around we went, until the plate was nearly empty.
“I fail to see the point in this.” Unless it was to make my head spin. Because it was also going around and around and around.
“What’s the point in anything?” Tadhg slurred, grabbing the last almond, dropping it into his wine with aplop, and throwing it back.
Whatwasthe point in anything? Especially when you couldn’t die and had the power to get everything you ever wanted. What was there to fear when you were the most fearsome? What was there to be joyful about when everyone feared you? What was the point in existing without either?
I reached for my wine glass . . . and missed. Someone must’ve moved the bloody thing. I tried again, this time catching the stem before it escaped. “How do you pick a winner?”
Rían’s teeth flashed. “Oh, we’re not finished yet.”
With the plate clear, Rían extinguished the flames with a wave of his hand, casting all of us in darkness. All I could see were three pairs of glowing eyes: golden, green, and cerulean blue.
“Now we play blind man’s buff,” he announced.
“In the dark?” My sister and I had used to play the game at Yule when we were children, but we’d always done it by candlelight.
“Everything’s more fun in the dark,” Rían said, his voice thickening.
Tadhg chuckled. “Ruairi’s it.”
Ruairi cursed. “Dammit. I’m always first.”
“Stop whinging and blindfold yourself.”
My eyes began to adjust to the darkness. I could make out vague shadows of the chairs and the settee from the faint light filtering in through the window.
“Ten . . . Nine . . .” Ruairi began counting down. “Eight . . . Seven . . . Six . . .”
Furniture scraped across the floor. If I wanted any chance of winning, my best bet was to find a place to hide and hope everyone else got caught before me. I made my way toward the window to duck behind the curtain.
A warm hand snaked around my waist. Cinnamon-scented air tingled against my lips, and it felt as though the floor vanished beneath me. A split second later, the sensation subsided, and I heard Ruairi finishing his count from down the hall.The smell of leather and ink replaced the magic.
“Three . . . two . . . one. Here I come. Ready or not.” There was a clatter and a curse.
“Who moved the feckin’ chair?” Ruairi yelped. Someone—I assumed it was Tadhg—sniggered.
Rían lifted me onto the desk, knocking over an unlit candlestick.