Page 93 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Astriyed stood before him, unbothered by the rebuke and her nakedness alike. Her amethyst gaze studied him, heavy with provocation.

Gavriel fixed his attention on the violet pendant at her throat as his stomach knotted with the memory of Drifah’s hand along his thigh, the taste of her lips. The residue of that violation crawled across his skin. Even the sight of Astriyed—beautiful and bare—stirred nothing but exhaustion. A dull ache. A longing for peace.

Once she seemed convinced he would offer no reaction, Astriyed reached for her robes and began to dress with ritual care, the chaos from mere moments before already forgotten. “Would you be a dear,” she said lightly, “and not mention this to Njall?”

Gavriel glared at her. “You are toying with him.” He searched her face for remorse and found none. Then, more sharply than he intended, “You know what he feels for you. If you cannot offer him the same, do not encourage it.”

At that, Astriyed stilled. The room cooled by degrees as her power stirred. Gavriel shuddered, feeling the intrusion settle into his bones. To the moons with the cursed females of this moonsforsaken castle. He was fuming now.

“Toying,” she echoed coolly, an unreadable flicker passing through her eyes, “is the only amusement that nourishes my will to breathe most days.”

“Njall does not deserve it,” Gavriel shot back, working to keep his voice from rising. “He would never chain someone to the fate you endure. He would tear Selenar Castle stone by stone before choosing to see anyone broken the way you are.”

She bent to slip on her slippers, as though the exchange were only a mild inconvenience.

“You endanger Njall every time you go near him,” Gavriel continued. “If you care for him at all, even the slightest measure… you must end it.” He hesitated, then forced the next words like a confession you he resented making, “You must wound him deeply for him believe it’s finished.”

Astriyed straightened and made for the door. “If you speak of this to anyone,” she said in passing, “I will mention that you sent a message today. I wonder how long it would take Oorlon to decide you are more nuisance than asset. No longer worth keeping alive.”

A soft laugh followed her outside.

When the last traces of her magic emptied from the chamber, Gavriel slammed his fist against the nearest table, unable to contain the surge of helpless fury.

Birds rustled in their cages.

After two deep breaths, he forced himself to focus. He took a scrap of paper, dipped a quill into ink, and wrote. The message was brief. Only a few lines of warning. All he dared, knowing someone might soon come investigate the noise.

Then he folded the note thrice, tied it to a raven’s leg, and opened the hatch. The bird launched into the night, wings catching the draft as it fled toward Lemierre.

A modest thread of defiance carried on borrowed wind.

Chapter 45

Gavriel

It had been a grim day, even by Norrelian standards. Gavriel’s head still throbbed from Drifah’s touch. Astriyed’s recklessness still lingered at the edge of his thoughts. Layered atop were the truths Njall had revealed—revelations about humanity itself that weighed heavily on his mind. And now there was the girl, added quietly to his keeping.

He saw Njall first. His massive form dominated the yard even beside the racks of weapons. Just behind him hurried a smaller cloaked figure, nearly forced into a trot to keep pace.

“What have you brought me?” Gavriel called lightly, aiming to shake off the day’s effects.

“A problem,” Njall replied. A ripple of his magic sealed around them. “Small, but persistent.”

The cloaked figure pulled back its hood. “Not persistent,” the girl corrected with grave seriousness. A blonde braid swung with the motion. “Resilient.”

Gavriel chuckled. “So this is the infamous prisoner.”

She extended her hand solemnly. Gavriel wiped his palm against his trousers before shaking it. Her grip was unexpectedly firm. “Do all fae keep human pets,” she asked, “or only this brute?”

He cast Njall a pointed look. “Njall simply has a talent for complicating his own existence.”

Njall grunted. “Life complicates itself and selects me for amusement,” he muttered, glancing at the girl. “Elara, this is Pietre. He’ll be suffering your care while I’m away.”

Gavriel felt the familiar sting of the false name but inclined his head and hid it behind a mild smile. Elara hummed in acknowledgment, then her gaze wandered across the training yard before returning to Njall with open inquisition. Gavriel frowned, puzzled.

Njall sighed, then translated, “She wishes to take a walk.”

The longing on her face stirred immediate sympathy. “A bit of air should be manageable,” Gavriel said. “Just don’t handle a blade without permission. Don’t stand behind anyone holding one. And if you fall, fall away from the pointy end.”