Page 60 of Reaper’s Curse

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re horrible. You know that?” She slapped his arm. “Yes, I have finished most of her undergarments. Those are easy to do, comparatively speaking.”

“I’ll take those. I know she could use them.” He grinned, and she looked like she might spit fire in his face.

She tipped her head to the ceiling. “Holy gods above.”

“And down below,” he added, his voice slipping into a deep baritone.

Camilla ignored him. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Sleeping? Yes. Anything else…” He sighed. “Not yet.”

“Well…that’s something.” She grabbed several small sheets of fabric, folded them neatly, and placed them in a soft canvas bag. “I’d hate to see Chace kill you.”

“Kill me?” Winter chortled. “Please. He couldn’t if he tried.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.” She shoved her hands against Winter’s back and pushed.

He allowed her to move him a step or two. “Why do you say that?” He couldn’t hold the teasing from his voice, even if his question came from a serious need to know. “Did you connect with him, too? Have you seen things?”

“None of your business.” She increased the power behind her push. “Now get out so that I can get the mountain of orders you placed completed.”

Winter clenched his teeth, causing pain to shoot across his jaw. But she wasn’t wrong. Her personal and magical business was her own. Only, he was still the prince, she was one of his subjects, and, through her children, she was also family. He held a deep responsibility for her within his heart. A level of responsibility he didn’t care to make her aware of.

Intending to playfully challenge her, he spun around to face her, but her forward shoves had her crashing into his chest. His arms automatically closed in around her, and his chest rose with a gasp. Closer to her than he had been in over a century, his senses filled with the aroma of her. The aromas from the front room (rosemary, mint, and sage) clung to her skin like a perfume, but her signature scent (fresh linen and daisies) dwelled strong within and beneath, reminding him of…

Camilla froze and stared up at him, her eyes wide and mouth parted.

His muscles locked up.

My brother’s. He shook his head. Closed his eyes. Camilla is the mother of my brother’s children, and this…whatever this is… It shouldn’t be.

He dropped his arms and stepped back, then he allowed his easy dismissal from her company. Camilla returned to her work before he managed three retreating steps. As he exited the back workspace, he turned his thoughts to Raven, pushing the mishap with Camilla to the farthest back regions of his mind. Although her warnings regarding Chace lingered.

Winter refused to accept the idea that Chace was a serious threat to his person. Winter was, after all, not only the prince, but a powerful magic wielder. And thanks to Raven, or unexpected circumstances, he had retrieved large amounts of his magical store. He was a gods-worthy force, and Chace… Chace was an irritating personality and an oversized thorn in his garden.

Before making his way to Aoes’s pub to collect an update on said irritating thorn, Winter paused in Camilla’s kitchen and pulled a chair up beside the afflicted twin, Myla.

“Hey, darling,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your sister is, would you?”

Myla’s hands darted into action, shifting through the various drawings spread across the table’s surface. She pulled three together and slid them to Winter. He studied each one intently. A dark cavern, a tunnel with flamed sconces, and a high wooden chair with chains.

His stomach twisted and dropped. “Can I keep these?”

She responded with a smile and a nod.

Winter’s visit with Aoes had been brief. Guilt festered over the briefness. The two hadn’t spent nearly as much time together since Raven’s arrival, but he couldn’t help the quick stop. Winter had things to which he must attend.

Chace hadn’t been present at the pub, thank the holy gods above and the unholy gods below. But the little detour was rewarding, and Winter was now armed with the truth of Chace’s condition. The irritating being, Raven’s coworker, would be fine. Was fine. Was out doing…something.

In any case, the guy was up and walking without assistance, so Winter didn’t need to worry about keeping Raven abreast of the other day’s episode, when Chace had collapsed in a sweaty mess.

Winter made his way back to the palace with a newly settled sense of peace. As he prowled the long walk, the wind picked up and raced through the streets, sending banners fluttering, his cloak rippling, and his hair whipping into his view.

The drop in temperature did little to chill his comfort. The icy magic coursing through his veins left him generally immune.

But the gust… That was different. More annoying than anything. The gale ripped at his hair, slapping the tendrils across his eyes and nose, causing wisps to get sucked into his mouth. The lack of control over the weatherly effects dropped him into frosty irritation and ignited the desire within him to roar.

He pulled his hair back and tied it at the nape of his neck, then he shrouded his face with his cloak. Not only did the hood reduce the irritating effects of the wind, it also served as better camouflage.