“Mmm.” Tamsin snuggled back down into the furs like a cat curling up. “Breakfast in bed sounds good.”
Other things in bed sounded even better, in Cuan’s opinion.
Soon, he promised himself.
They would have few enough moments together. He had to treasure every one.
Angus bounced around, getting underfoot as Cuan pulled on clean clothes. Cuan would have suspected the hound of trying to cause his demise by tripping him up with his own trousers, had Angus’s tail not been wagging madly the whole time.
“Shining Ones, hound,” he said in exasperation, pushing Angus away for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Have you no middle setting between ‘implacable hatred’ and ‘eternal devotion’? I would have settled for ‘grudging tolerance’, you realize.”
“He does only grudgingly tolerate most people,” Tamsin said from the bed. “Guess he’s finally recognized that you’re special.”
Cuan finally managed to do up his bootlaces, despite Angus’s apparent conviction that this was a marvelous game designed purely for his entertainment. “I wonder what has caused this change of heart. Perhaps I now smell of you?”
“I don’t think so.” Tamsin gave him a speculative look. “You haven’t done your glamour yet.”
He touched his own face, startled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d forgotten to set his glamour the instant that he awoke. Since childhood, it had been an automatic reflex.
“Thank you for reminding me.” He wove the magic as he spoke. “It would not have done to have walked out into the court looking like—”
A low growl interrupted his words. He looked down, surprised. Angus was stiff-legged and bristling, eyes fixed on his own.
“Thought so.” Tamsin sounded triumphant. “Drop the glamour again, Cuan.”
He did so. Immediately, Angus’s fur flattened, his ears and tail pricking up.
“He can tell when I’m using magic,” Cuan said, astonished.
“And he doesn’t like it.” Tamsin leaned out of bed to pat her dog. “Clever boy.”
Angus lolled out his tongue, looking smug.
“Well, I am glad that we discovered this before I walked him through the heart of the sidhean.” Cuan tied his hair back in a hasty warrior’s tail. “The nobles will be rousing now, and everyone wears fashionably glamoured garments. The last thing we need is for him to take offense to some highborn lady’s stockings.”
Tamsin winced. “Yeah, we’ve got enough enemies already. Is there a back way you could take him?”
“I will go by the servant’s corridors. No high sidhe shall see us.” He picked up Angus, bending down to give Tamsin another lingering kiss. “I shall not be long. We only have a few short hours before Lady Maeve calls the court together once more.”
Tamsin’s smile disappeared. “Before the next duel.”
He traced the worried line between her brows, wishing that he could smooth it away. Gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Let us not think of that now,” he said. “I will go, and return with breakfast. We will lounge together in bed, and I will feed you summer-warm berries dipped in cream, and lick the drips from your chin. We will spoil Angus with tidbits and laugh at his mischief. I will hold you in my arms, and you will tell me of your childhood, and your friends, and all the things that bring you joy.”
Her eyes were troubled. “That sounds wonderful. But Cuan—”
He silenced her with another long kiss.
“And just for a short time,” he whispered, “we will pretend that it will last forever.”