Even if the beast is a part of him, I can’t help but be warmed by the fact that he’s asking after my wolf. “He’s with Willow. I thought he’d enjoy it much more there than attending Harrow with me.”
“Ah, how is my brother?”
“Well enough to be trenchant.” A shadow crosses Eldas’s expression. His jaw is set instantly. I hold up my hands. “No, no, it was fine. I know his quips mean he’s getting better.” I laugh. “Plus, I’m getting used to him.”
“You’re…getting used to my brother?”
“People can drink poison if they take it in small enough doses for long enough,” I retort.
Eldas snorts, another flicker of amusement crossing his face. I do like amusing him. I like his small smiles and mischievous looks.
“How is he doing?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs to enjoy the nightlife less. I told him he should stay in the castle for a while and rest—no going out.”
“Hopefully he’ll listen to you. He certainly doesn’t listen to me,” Eldas mutters.
“We’ll see… But I’m not confident I’ll have much success.” I glance over my shoulder and back toward Harrow’s door. Really, I’m keeping an eye out for Sevenna. I can only acclimate to so much poison at a time and I have no energy for her withering stare today. “In any case, I should get back to work.”
“As should I,” Eldas says. Yet, we both linger. “Oh, I almost forgot, I wanted to return this.” He holds out a familiar journal. “It took me a little longer than the last one to get through.”
“You still got through it in record time.” I take the journal with both hands and stretch my fingers in search of the jolt that happens when our skin touches. But the tome is too large, and our hands don’t meet.
“Yes, I’ll need another,” he says thoughtfully, his voice low. “Would I…” He clears his throat and it dislodges some of the gravel in his voice. I rather liked the gravel. “Would it be all right if I were to come and retrieve another from your apartments later?” Eldas asks with all the primness and propriety expected of a king.
I bite in a laugh and smile. “Of course, Eldas. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Good.” He nods and breezes past as if things haven’t just fundamentally changed once more between us. “I’ll see you later, Luella.”
There’s something about the way my name rolls off his tongue, or the husk of his voice as he passes, that has me standing in place, toes curling into my boots, long after he’s disappeared into Harrow’s room.