Then I’d heard tell-tale splashes from the nearby river.
And damn it all if I didn’t come alive inside the moment I saw Keelynn stumble up the bank in one of the faerie’s dresses. She was too busy laughing with a blue-haired faerie to see me. Seren wouldn’t be much older than Keelynn, I’d imagine. With the way they carried on, giggling arm-in-arm, they looked like fast friends.
Ruairi and Cormac waited on the shore. Ruairi sniffed the air and turned his head, his eyes meeting mine from the shadows. He nodded toward Keelynn, as if to say he’d kept her safe. I nodded back, not quite ready to speak with her.
Not when I could still taste Áine.
I shifted a bottle of puítin from our stores and took a deep drink, washing away the lingering taste of Áine’s sour lips.
Keelynn stumbled, catching herself on a mossy log, laughing so hard she snorted.
I am a lady. . .
She may have been raised a lady, but in that dress, all that gloriously pale skin on display, dancing beneath the moon, she looked as Danú as the rest of the faeries.
Ruairi the feckin’ gentleman helped her to her feet. Unlike Rían and I, he’d been raised with morals. That he hung around with us still astounded me. His mother would’ve been appalled were she still alive. The woman had never approved of either of us. And who could blame her? Leading her precious son down dark, wanton paths.
Keelynn danced around the fire, blissful in her own world. No sign of her rigid shoulders as she twirled and lifted those long arms above her head. The movement made the already short skirt ride nearly to her arse. Not that it was a problem for me, but if Ruairi didn’t get his eyes back on her face, he’d have a blade in his gullet.
I couldn’t watch her anymore without my chest aching and I didn’t want to ruin her fun with my dark mood.
After all she’d lost, she deserved to laugh and dance.
I trudged into the forest with my bottle, propped myself against a tree, and drank.
One for my misery.
One for my sins.
One for the human who wore my ring.
One for—
Feck it. One for no reason at all other than to make it an even four.
By the time I made it back to the fire, Keelynn was lying face-down in the grass next to Ruairi.
“Dammit, Ruairi. What’d you do to her?” I hadn’t been gone that long. Had I?
“Me?” He took a swig straight from the bottle of wine, using his shirt to wipe his mouth. “I didn’t do a feckin’ thing.”
“Why isn’t she in the tower?” He should’ve brought her inside the moment he realized she was tired.
“Because she insisted on waiting for ye.”
Keelynn smiled when I pressed a cool hand to her flushed cheek. “How much did she drink?”
“Not as much as she wanted, but considerably more than she should’ve.”
Brilliant. She’d be sick as a dog in the morning.
I hefted her into my arms, cradling her close. Feckin’ woman with her feckin’ notions. Didn’t she have an ounce of self-preservation? Hadn’t I told her to avoid the wine? Hadn’t I told her to go to the tower? Had she listened? No. Of course not. That would’ve been too feckin’ simple.
Something warm and wet grazed my neck.
I shifted Keelynn in my arms to find her pink tongue sliding over her lips. “Did you justlickme?”
“You taste good.”