That was interesting.” Reynard smiled as he poured himself a drink from the decanter on the table.
“Yes it was,” Wyn agreed. One of the best performances he’d seen in quite some time.
“Did you see the girl’s chest?”
“I could hardly miss it. Most impressive.” Wyn took the cup Reynard offered him. “Though I wouldn’t have minded seeing a bit more.” He’d actually intended to see more when he’d mind-pushed the screamer to snatch the drying cloth away. Too bad the girl’s guardian had been there to intercede.
“Keep your mind on business, Wyn. I was referring to the mark there. Did you see it? I think we may have stumbled onto the real thing this time.”
“Perhaps.” More likely another false trail. How many times had Rey dragged him along, chasing after some rumor, some legend, some worthless Mortal superstition? “But I thought the boy said the mark was to be found on the back.”
“So he did. Perhaps he was mistaken about that.”
Wyn didn’t respond. He needed to keep his irritation in check. If the boy was mistaken about the location of the Fae mark, what else might he be mistaken about? Here they were once again in the middle of nowhere, pursuing some local legend, all because of Reynard’s obsession to find a female descendant of their people.
Wyn tipped back his head and drained the goblet, though it would do nothing to settle the feeling of unease that had crept over him in the girl’s room. Not even the strongest of Mortal spirits would have any effect on him. What he wouldn’t give for one small glass of Faerie nectar. It had been so very long.
“Still”—Reynard stroked his chin thoughtfully—“it is the little redhead who’s supposed to have the gift.”
Wyn chuckled. “I’d have thought you’d had your fill of redheads by now.”
Reynard sneered. “Hardly. Besides, this is business, not pleasure.”
“No reason we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves.” Rey’s foolhardy plan was unlikely to work anyway. And from what he’d seen on display of that blond beauty down the hall, it looked like there might be some enjoyment to be had in this outpost of humanity, after all.
“That’s your problem, Wyn. You waste your energies on the pursuit of pleasure whereas I channel my energies into purpose and planning. That’s why I’m in command and you’re merely my second.” Reynard removed his jacket and tossed it to the foot of the bed. “Having either female should be easy enough. I’ll be patient and make my decision when the time is right.”
“Having either female easy? I shouldn’t think Adira would be at all pleased to hear you say those words. What would your own dear redhead think of your latest plan?” He knew the answer to that question without having to ask. The vindictive bitch would be furious if she knew what was going on here.
“Please, my dear Wyn.” Reynard arranged himself on the bed, one foot propped atop the other, arms behind his head. “When have you ever known me to be concerned about what anyone thinks? Least of all my fair courtesan.”
True. Wyn rose from his chair and sauntered to the door. “On that note, your grace, I’ll take my leave of you.” He bowed low on his way out, knowing Reynard would never notice the sarcasm in his action. The Fae wasn’t patient; he was oblivious. Reynard had grown so full of himself over the centuries, he actually expected to be treated as royalty.
Wyn, on the other hand, understood patience. He’d learned its cruel lessons in the time since he’d left the Faerie Realm. He wasn’t second in command because of misdirected energies; he was second because he chose that position. He would be patient, too. Like Reynard, when the time was right, he’d be making his own decision because, unlike Reynard, Wyn had no desire to conquer the Realm of Faerie, to rule it. He only wanted the right to go home. And what was he willing to do, to sacrifice to gain that right?
He shook his head, pausing at the entry to his room, taking one last look down the hallway to where the two women in question were even now sleeping.
As he closed the door, he noted with satisfaction the fire, the fresh decanter on the table and the turned-down bedcovers. There were advantages to his station. All the benefits bestowed upon the Duke, with none of the responsibility. How fortunate for him Reynard was so ambitious.
Still, this pittance was no match for what he’d lost.
No match for what he might stand to regain if there actually were some truth to this particular family legend.
As he lowered his body into the chair by the fire, he acknowledged that, unlike so many times in the past, there was something unusual about this family, some energy he could sense.
He leaned his head against the back of his seat, staring into the flames. Yes, this whole experience felt different.
Perhaps it was time he did a little investigating on his own.