Distracted, Nevander answers, “I don’t have one.”
Seren’s face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Shit. Nevander keeps forgetting how new Seren is. “No, not like that. Lysandra used the same ritual as Haelwen. I never had a father.”
“That’s good. Maybe.” Seren runs his hands through his hair, thoughts clearly racing. “Gods. Spirits. Who took the crown? And why?”
Nevander resists the urge to brush the hair from Seren’s forehead. Then he stops resisting—because this is permitted. Because Seren leans so naturally into the touch. “We’ll find out. You should take the day to rest.”
“What about you?” Seren asks.
Nevander hesitates, torn. He needs to follow up on the Spiritwood incident. He needs to question Jasper before asking them to investigate everyone who could have accessed the broken crown. The poor seneschal probably needs another conversation, too, to see how he’s coping with Gevain and Morana’s assistance.
“I thought so,” Seren says. “Let’s both survive the rest of the day. I want to be seen at court supper this evening.”
Nevander never thought he’d be so reluctant for Seren to embrace his duty. “Lysandra can be overwhelming. Your wellbeing is most important.”
Seren takes a shaky breath. “The way you say that so easily…” He clasps Nevander’s hands. “I’m fine, and you have to trust me, because I can’t lie either. I could tell Lysandra was angry, but only in the ordinary way. Her shields are as solid as yours.”
In the face of Seren’s earnestness, Nevander can only relent. Slightly. “As soon as supper ends, you’re going to rest.”
“I will,” Seren promises, tracing Nevander’s rings. The lingering touch must be deliberate “And I expect you to help me relax.”
He flees before Nevander can do anything ill-advised.
Nevander presses his knuckles to his lips, composing himself. Then follows.
27
A Dangerous Gift
Returningtohisquartersthat evening doesn’t bring the relief Seren hoped for. As Nevander locks the door, dreadful certainties still curdle Seren’s stomach. Too much has happened today—this month—and his brittle self-control isn’t up to the task.
His sanity is in question, too. That bear statue shouldn’t have a fluffy fur hat.
The hat uncurls, and Harmony darts for Seren’s shoulder.
“Hi there,” Seren says, hunching to protect his neck from the tickling. “Have you been good?”
She nuzzles his chin with whiskery boldness, then launches herself into a hanging planter.
Seren eyes the ceiling hook, which looks sturdy enough. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
“At least she can’t read spellbooks,” Nevander says, closing in. “How are you?”
Seren has no idea what to say. His heart is a well of roiling water, threatening to slosh over the rim. His hands hang awkwardly at his sides, caught between reaching out and covering his mouth to keep more stupid truths from spilling—
His back hits the wall, and Nevander kisses every thought from his head. Seren sighs into the kiss, lips parting at the slightest nudge. Gentle heat consumes him.
Nevander withdraws, his breath electric against Seren’s damp lips. And the reprieve ends. Concerns crowd Seren’s mind, and he’s too exhausted to shelter from them. He’d wanted a night of exploration, losing himself wherever these kisses might lead.
But he’s so tired.
“I’m sorry,” Seren says, looking away.
Harmony’s small snout emerges from the planter. She sniffs, then disappears into the foliage, like she’s tired of their racket.
Nevander doesn’t chide him for apologizing. “Why?”