Island of Glass
Page 92
“But I’m all aflutter.”
He shot her a viciously dark look. “I didn’t love them. I cared for them, both, and I pledged to them. I honored the pledge, without love, as I thought love wasn’t necessary. Or possible. I love you, and I’ll damn well have the pledge and make it.”
“I could say no.”
“You won’t.” He slammed the tea down. Then closed his eyes a moment. Opened them with his heart in them. “Don’t. Don’t say no. Give me this one thing.”
She reached up to frame his face. “Do you understand I don’t need this to stay with you, to love you, to accept you’ll go on after I stop?”
“Yes. I don’t need it to stay with you or to love you. I need it because I will and I do. I need it because in three and a half centuries, you’re the only woman I’ve loved.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Just . . . okay? That’s your answer?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m in.”
He shook his head, then lowered his brow to hers. “What a pair we are.”
“It works.”
“It works,” he agreed. “I guess you’ll want a ring.”
“Treweth—the Anglo-Saxon root of betrothed. Means truth. The ring’s a symbol of the promise. I appreciate symbols.”
“I’ll find something.” He drew her in. He’d found her, hadn’t he?
“It’d be nice to stay here.” Skin to skin, heart to heart. “But.” With reluctance she drew back. “I’ve got some questions, and the first is, where are the damn stars?”
“Safe, we’re told. I’ll fill you in. We should get dressed, find the others.”
“Great. Where are my clothes?”
“Couldn’t say.”
Her brows knitted. “Didn’t you get them?”
“Considering the situation, I didn’t think to pick up after you.”
“Well crap.” At a loss, she looked around the room, then walked to a delicately carved wardrobe. Stared at the contents. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Doyle studied in turn, smiled. Inside hung a pair of leather breeches the color of cowhide, a simple shirt, a leather jerkin, and his own coat and boots.
And a dress the color of old gold with silver laces and piping along with kid boots.
“Seriously? You get the cool leather pants and I get a Maid Marian dress?”
“It’s that or naked.”
“Let me think about it a minute.”
She wore the dress—and scowled at herself in the mirror. “Where am I supposed to put my gun, my knife? Where are my gun and knife?”
“We’ll sort it out.” Doyle strapped on his sword. “You look beautiful.”
“I look like I’m going to a Renaissance fair.” She tugged uselessly at the bodice. “That’s a lot of landscape. Why are breasts such a thing?”
“I’ll show you later,” he said and went to answer the knock on the door.
“Good morning! Oh, Riley!” Annika swirled in. “You’re beautiful! Oh, how pretty. Do you like my dress? Isn’t it wonderful?”
She did a spin, sending the skirts flying out, all sea green and silky. “Sawyer said it’s like my eyes, and yours is like yours. Sasha’s is so pretty and blue. Everyone is in our sitting room. We’re to wait until they come for us. We’re going to meet the queen.” She took a breath, focused on Doyle’s face. “You’re happy! I can see your happy. You’re with Riley!” She threw her arms around him. “You must get Riley a ring now.”
“I’ll work on that.”
“Will I do the stand-up at your wedding?” she asked Riley.
On a laugh, Riley stopped feeling awkward in the dress. “You bet your ass.”
“Come, come. There’s more food. And coffee.”
“Coffee? How’d you get coffee?”
“Sasha asked.” Grabbing Riley’s hands, Annika tugged. “We have only to ask.”
“I missed that memo.”
In the sitting room the others stood, Sasha in flowing blue velvet, Bran in the dignified black of the sorcerer, Sawyer in brown tanned pants and a hip-length jerkin over a cream-colored shirt.
“Nice threads,” he said to Riley.
“Middle Ages prom dress.” She studied him as she beelined for the coffee. “You got a Han Solo deal going.”
“I know, right? I’m digging it.”
“So, sorry I had to change and run last night, but Doyle’s caught me up. Nerezza’s like a bitch cat with nine lives, and the stars don’t go up until we finish her off.” She gulped coffee. “And so a pilgrimage to the sword stone, an Arthur the Young twist. Then we freaking end this thing.”
“That sums it up,” Bran agreed. “May it be so simple.”
“I need my weapons,” she began, then turned when a young man in trews and doublet stepped to the door.
“My ladies, my lords. Queen Aegle requests the honor of your presence.”
It wasn’t every day you met a queen, Riley thought as they followed the page up the wide stairs. It wasn’t every lifetime you met the queen of a magick island who’d ruled for more than a millennium.
She’d expected the huge double doors, but had assumed to find them guarded. Instead they were flanked by glass urns of flowers.
He shot her a viciously dark look. “I didn’t love them. I cared for them, both, and I pledged to them. I honored the pledge, without love, as I thought love wasn’t necessary. Or possible. I love you, and I’ll damn well have the pledge and make it.”
“I could say no.”
“You won’t.” He slammed the tea down. Then closed his eyes a moment. Opened them with his heart in them. “Don’t. Don’t say no. Give me this one thing.”
She reached up to frame his face. “Do you understand I don’t need this to stay with you, to love you, to accept you’ll go on after I stop?”
“Yes. I don’t need it to stay with you or to love you. I need it because I will and I do. I need it because in three and a half centuries, you’re the only woman I’ve loved.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Just . . . okay? That’s your answer?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m in.”
He shook his head, then lowered his brow to hers. “What a pair we are.”
“It works.”
“It works,” he agreed. “I guess you’ll want a ring.”
“Treweth—the Anglo-Saxon root of betrothed. Means truth. The ring’s a symbol of the promise. I appreciate symbols.”
“I’ll find something.” He drew her in. He’d found her, hadn’t he?
“It’d be nice to stay here.” Skin to skin, heart to heart. “But.” With reluctance she drew back. “I’ve got some questions, and the first is, where are the damn stars?”
“Safe, we’re told. I’ll fill you in. We should get dressed, find the others.”
“Great. Where are my clothes?”
“Couldn’t say.”
Her brows knitted. “Didn’t you get them?”
“Considering the situation, I didn’t think to pick up after you.”
“Well crap.” At a loss, she looked around the room, then walked to a delicately carved wardrobe. Stared at the contents. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Doyle studied in turn, smiled. Inside hung a pair of leather breeches the color of cowhide, a simple shirt, a leather jerkin, and his own coat and boots.
And a dress the color of old gold with silver laces and piping along with kid boots.
“Seriously? You get the cool leather pants and I get a Maid Marian dress?”
“It’s that or naked.”
“Let me think about it a minute.”
She wore the dress—and scowled at herself in the mirror. “Where am I supposed to put my gun, my knife? Where are my gun and knife?”
“We’ll sort it out.” Doyle strapped on his sword. “You look beautiful.”
“I look like I’m going to a Renaissance fair.” She tugged uselessly at the bodice. “That’s a lot of landscape. Why are breasts such a thing?”
“I’ll show you later,” he said and went to answer the knock on the door.
“Good morning! Oh, Riley!” Annika swirled in. “You’re beautiful! Oh, how pretty. Do you like my dress? Isn’t it wonderful?”
She did a spin, sending the skirts flying out, all sea green and silky. “Sawyer said it’s like my eyes, and yours is like yours. Sasha’s is so pretty and blue. Everyone is in our sitting room. We’re to wait until they come for us. We’re going to meet the queen.” She took a breath, focused on Doyle’s face. “You’re happy! I can see your happy. You’re with Riley!” She threw her arms around him. “You must get Riley a ring now.”
“I’ll work on that.”
“Will I do the stand-up at your wedding?” she asked Riley.
On a laugh, Riley stopped feeling awkward in the dress. “You bet your ass.”
“Come, come. There’s more food. And coffee.”
“Coffee? How’d you get coffee?”
“Sasha asked.” Grabbing Riley’s hands, Annika tugged. “We have only to ask.”
“I missed that memo.”
In the sitting room the others stood, Sasha in flowing blue velvet, Bran in the dignified black of the sorcerer, Sawyer in brown tanned pants and a hip-length jerkin over a cream-colored shirt.
“Nice threads,” he said to Riley.
“Middle Ages prom dress.” She studied him as she beelined for the coffee. “You got a Han Solo deal going.”
“I know, right? I’m digging it.”
“So, sorry I had to change and run last night, but Doyle’s caught me up. Nerezza’s like a bitch cat with nine lives, and the stars don’t go up until we finish her off.” She gulped coffee. “And so a pilgrimage to the sword stone, an Arthur the Young twist. Then we freaking end this thing.”
“That sums it up,” Bran agreed. “May it be so simple.”
“I need my weapons,” she began, then turned when a young man in trews and doublet stepped to the door.
“My ladies, my lords. Queen Aegle requests the honor of your presence.”
It wasn’t every day you met a queen, Riley thought as they followed the page up the wide stairs. It wasn’t every lifetime you met the queen of a magick island who’d ruled for more than a millennium.
She’d expected the huge double doors, but had assumed to find them guarded. Instead they were flanked by glass urns of flowers.
