Read Online The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four by Elizabeth Hunter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Hunter
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the steps?”
He shrugged. “I am a fair dancer.”
“So why don’t you join us?”
“Because I can watch you dance sitting from here, and I prefer that.”
Her smile fell. “Why?”
“You’re a good dancer. And I like imaging those long legs—”
“Damien.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Not that. Why me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ve been… all around the world.” She flung her arm out. “Seen ancient cities and modern ones. You’ve fought in wars I can only imagine and met important people.”
She pressed forward until she was nearly lying on his chest, and Damien fought—and failed—to keep his hands at his sides. He reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. It fell around her face, wild and as untamed as she was.
“Are you playing with me?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Then why?”
“Do you not believe my soul calls to yours? You told me we were reshon.”
“I said we might be. And that’s not enough.”
“No?” He caught her chin with his fingers and tilted her face up, a spike of anger making his movements and his voice sharp. “What do you want from me? For me to lay my heart bare so you can step on it?”
“Why do you think I would step on it?”
“We might be reshon?” It stung. He released her and leaned back. “Maybe you’re not as honest as I thought.”
It wasn’t that Damien thought Sari would be dishonest on purpose, but her willing ignorance of their connection was driving him mad. They were reshon. Months of knowing her, nights spent arguing and laughing, heated moments that never resolved. They all confirmed his mad hope. She just refused to see it.
Sari stood and moved away from him, but he caught her arm and pulled her back.
“You have a fierce heart, milá .”
“Don’t—”
“Someday…” He pressed her palm to his cheek and took a deep breath as she froze. “Someday you will love a man, and the fire of it will be a violent, dangerous thing.”
“Why do you say this to me?” she whispered. “Am I not also worthy of choosing?”
“Because there is beauty in your violence. Like the eagle over the fjord, Sari. You will love a man, and if he is a wise scribe who knows what life is, he will cling to it and treasure it even as it lashes him.” Damien closed his eyes and let the heat of her palm sear him. “He will treasure it, because within your love a man would never feel more alive. Even if he had lived a thousand years, he would burn from it.”
He kept his eyes closed, expecting her to pull her hand from his and walk away. She didn’t. She stood next to him as the music rose and shifted. A singer stood and opened a song, calling to her sisters to add to the old ballad of Adelina’s doomed love. Voices took turns as they sang the ancient rhyme, but Sari still stood beside him, her hand resting against his cheek.
Then silently she turned her hand and clasped his fingers in her own, drawing him to his feet.
Damien blinked. “Sari?”
She said nothing as she led him out the nearest door, away from prying eyes in the hall and into a night barely lit by the new moon.
Sari turned when they were out of the hall and cloaked in the shadow of the library, raised her face to his and kissed him.
It was a soft kiss. Merely a brush of lips over his own. She grew bolder, kissing him over and over, pressing more firmly each time. Damien brought his hand up and cupped the back of her neck, reveling in the heat of her skin as he drew her closer. He fought his instinct to take control and let her explore his mouth. When she slid her hands around his waist, he was reminded of the night she had come to him and embraced him.
Generous. Heaven above, her heart was so generous. He wanted her desperately. She nipped at his lower lip and let out a frustrated sigh.
It was the sigh that did him in.
Clasping her cheeks between his hands, Damien angled her mouth and dove deep, then he gripped her hair in
He shrugged. “I am a fair dancer.”
“So why don’t you join us?”
“Because I can watch you dance sitting from here, and I prefer that.”
Her smile fell. “Why?”
“You’re a good dancer. And I like imaging those long legs—”
“Damien.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Not that. Why me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ve been… all around the world.” She flung her arm out. “Seen ancient cities and modern ones. You’ve fought in wars I can only imagine and met important people.”
She pressed forward until she was nearly lying on his chest, and Damien fought—and failed—to keep his hands at his sides. He reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. It fell around her face, wild and as untamed as she was.
“Are you playing with me?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Then why?”
“Do you not believe my soul calls to yours? You told me we were reshon.”
“I said we might be. And that’s not enough.”
“No?” He caught her chin with his fingers and tilted her face up, a spike of anger making his movements and his voice sharp. “What do you want from me? For me to lay my heart bare so you can step on it?”
“Why do you think I would step on it?”
“We might be reshon?” It stung. He released her and leaned back. “Maybe you’re not as honest as I thought.”
It wasn’t that Damien thought Sari would be dishonest on purpose, but her willing ignorance of their connection was driving him mad. They were reshon. Months of knowing her, nights spent arguing and laughing, heated moments that never resolved. They all confirmed his mad hope. She just refused to see it.
Sari stood and moved away from him, but he caught her arm and pulled her back.
“You have a fierce heart, milá .”
“Don’t—”
“Someday…” He pressed her palm to his cheek and took a deep breath as she froze. “Someday you will love a man, and the fire of it will be a violent, dangerous thing.”
“Why do you say this to me?” she whispered. “Am I not also worthy of choosing?”
“Because there is beauty in your violence. Like the eagle over the fjord, Sari. You will love a man, and if he is a wise scribe who knows what life is, he will cling to it and treasure it even as it lashes him.” Damien closed his eyes and let the heat of her palm sear him. “He will treasure it, because within your love a man would never feel more alive. Even if he had lived a thousand years, he would burn from it.”
He kept his eyes closed, expecting her to pull her hand from his and walk away. She didn’t. She stood next to him as the music rose and shifted. A singer stood and opened a song, calling to her sisters to add to the old ballad of Adelina’s doomed love. Voices took turns as they sang the ancient rhyme, but Sari still stood beside him, her hand resting against his cheek.
Then silently she turned her hand and clasped his fingers in her own, drawing him to his feet.
Damien blinked. “Sari?”
She said nothing as she led him out the nearest door, away from prying eyes in the hall and into a night barely lit by the new moon.
Sari turned when they were out of the hall and cloaked in the shadow of the library, raised her face to his and kissed him.
It was a soft kiss. Merely a brush of lips over his own. She grew bolder, kissing him over and over, pressing more firmly each time. Damien brought his hand up and cupped the back of her neck, reveling in the heat of her skin as he drew her closer. He fought his instinct to take control and let her explore his mouth. When she slid her hands around his waist, he was reminded of the night she had come to him and embraced him.
Generous. Heaven above, her heart was so generous. He wanted her desperately. She nipped at his lower lip and let out a frustrated sigh.
It was the sigh that did him in.
Clasping her cheeks between his hands, Damien angled her mouth and dove deep, then he gripped her hair in
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