A Court of Whispers and Song

Chapter 45

"I searched for you this morning, Gwyneth Berdara."

"Oh? Sorry about that, Nesta. I was sleeping." Not a lie. She had been slumbering at various points.

"But where?" A sly smile crossed over Nesta's elegant face, reminding her of one of those evil queens from the human fairy tales told to her as a young child.

Gwyn didn't answer. Instead, she fixated on the chill of her refreshment and the glide of shadows over her lower back, as though Azriel's steady hand were resting there for comfort.

There were several lengthy, wonderful minutes where the only noise was the muffled chatter from their Illyrians. But unfortunately, Nesta was like a kelpie. Once she spotted something she wanted, she wasn't letting go.

"So...how was it?"

Gwyn's hand wobbled over the glass as she drew a sip of mellow red wine. Mother, spare her.

"Hmm?" Gwyn asked cooly, hoping her face wasn't blushing.

She peered out of the corner of her eye at Azriel. He was standing in a far corner, nursing a short cup of amber liquor, his face impassive. Cassian tipped forward, his tone low, and the conversation only meant for them. But as invisible shadows stroked over her wrist, she knew he was paying attention.

"So what's the reason, Berdara?"

Gwyn took a long sip from her crystal glass, smacking her lips at the tartness. "The reason for what?"

Nesta snorted, leaning in to gossip straight into her delicately arched ear. "The reason you look like you were riding a horse all evening. The reason you're walking bow-legged with a damned limp, my dear Gwyneth."

Their joined heads snapped up to sputtering and splashes, followed by harsh coughing and yelps booming from the sitting room.

Gwyn and Nesta watched as Cassian and Azriel cleaned spilled drinks off their black tunics and breeches and the floor. The House didn't want to take part in the cleanup. Thank the Mother the High Lord and Lady had not arrived yet, having remained until their babe awoke from a late nap.

Nesta's grin was one of wicked curiosity.

"Don't be coy, Berdara. You were clearly riding something." Those stark blue eyes like honed steel peered over Gwyn's shoulder, and she knew who the eldest Archeron was grinning at. "Or rather someone."

Oh, great gods. The young Valkyrie tried to keep her poise. Tried to manifest a mask of haughty disinterest, as Azriel often did. She truly did. Yet heat rose across her neck to her face, obscenely vibrant against the ugly greenness of the knit top Mor had gifted.

Nesta chuckled and elbowed her side, the cup nearly slipping from Gwyn's grasp. Her auburn brows lowered as she gazed at her friend.

"I guess even a nymph's pliable body was no match for the infamous wingspan," Nesta whispered in her ear, amusement coloring her tone.

Cauldron, drown her.

Gwyn poked at Nesta's chest hard, stepping away to the kitchen for some space. "I am not going to discuss it with you, Nes."

Nesta followed on sure feet, her long black dress swishing as she advanced. "Well, not now , anyway."

"No," Gwyn whisper-shouted, glancing to see if the boys were paying attention. Finding they were not, she set her drink on the counter. "You and Cassian can talk about your..." She fluttered her hands around as she searched for the right word. "Activities all you want, but this is our business."