I needed to killhim.
Feck it.
I buried the blade into his muscular thigh.
A deep, feral growl erupted from Ruairi’s throat. His eyes glowed brighter as his lips twisted into a sneer. What was that supposed to do? Scare me? How pathetic would I be if I shied away from a pup with sharp teeth?
Suddenly, he blew out a harsh breath, fixed his snarl into a lopsided grin, withdrew my dagger, and let it fall to the grass. “I’ll be sure to tell Aveen ye said hello.”
Maybe she’d come outside and give out to me for stabbing Ruairi. Maybe she’d stab me back. Hell, at this stage, I didn’t care, I only wanted to hear her voice.
Then again, if she walked out that door, I wouldn’t have the strength to hold back. I’d be on my knees, begging for another chance.
I collected my dagger and muttered, “Don’t bother,” before stumbling toward the field to retrieve my pack. No sense sitting here in the freezing cold, waiting to see what time the pooka finally left.
Praying he didn’t stay all night.
4
TADHG
My arse hurt,my head ached, and if I didn’t get a slice of Eava’s strawberry-rhubarb pie soon, someone was going to meet the wrong end of a cursed dagger. Preferably a true immortal so I could steal his life force and use it to resurrect my wife.
Not that I had access to the dagger since my infernal brother refused to hand it over because he said I had “suicidal tendencies” and he “didn’t want to deal with the Danú in my stead.” Which was fair enough. Still, I had no plans to take my own life…today, at least. All I wanted was to put an end to waiting. To wondering what would happen when Keelynn returned in four weeks.
“How many more?” I asked our servant Oscar as I gently massaged my temples. That final glass of púitin last night had been a mistake, and I couldn’t even blame Ruairi because he’d already been passed out on the settee.
“Two, Prince Tadhg.”
Only two more. The moment they stepped out of this room, I’d be able to take off this stuffy waistcoat, evanesce to the tower where Keelynn slept, and shift the entire pie all for myself.
A familiar orange-haired witch entered the great room. I hadn’t spoken to Anwen since the night my darling brother had sentenced her to death for stealing from the humans. Where were her little ones? She usually had at least one of her brood hanging from her skirts.
I scrubbed my clammy palms down my breeches and sat up a little straighter. “Anwen.”
The hair coming loose from her chignon fluttered against her cheeks when she bobbed her head. “Prince Tadhg.”
“What can I help you with today?”
Her gaze darted to Oscar before returning to the throne. “I’m afraid it is a delicate matter. Would it be possible to speak to ye in private?”
Oscar shuffled closer to where I sat, resting a hairy hand on the top of my throne.
I’d learned my lesson about being alone with women while cursed. I had a wife now—albeit a dead one. The last thing I wanted was to screw up again and give Keelynn more reasons to despise me. “Oscar won’t be leaving.”
A fierce blush raced up Anwen’s neck to her jaw. Her gaze dropped to her slippers.“I…um…I’m in need of rations. I’ve been unwell these past few months and unable to work. My eldest is in the shop morning, noon, and night, and—”
“There’s no need to explain yourself. Go around the back to the kitchens and knock on the door. Eava will fix you up with whatever you need.”
She went to say something more, but then her gaze caught on Oscar, and her mouth snapped shut. She bobbed half a curtsey, thanked me, and hurried back out into the hallway.
One down. One to go.
I could practically hear the pie calling my name.
When a man walked in bunching a flat cap between his hairy hands, the tension in my stomach eased. Although I’d seen this grogoch delivering apples to the castle, I couldn’t recall his name.
“Seaney,” Oscar greeted with a smile and a tip of his own cap.