Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Seventy-Two: Obsidian

"You should stop visiting me in my bedchamber." Eleanore darts to grab Anton's coat from the chair. She holds it up over her chest, in a vain effort to hide the thin shift that left little to the imagination.

"Oh, if you have heard the stories about me..." Luca laughs, the shadows over his silver eyes deepening that he appears as if he's wearing a theatrical mask in the barely lit cabin. "You would know that my practices don't exempt marital bedchambers."

She purses her lips tight.

He smirks, and glances at her finger. "I gather that congratulations are in order for you?"

"Anton is my husband in every way, just... not yet in name." Eleanore frowns. "And he won't be too happy if he sees you conversing with me while I am sorely underdressed."

"I bet not." Luca grins widely. "But can he drive me away?"

The God of the Night chuckles.

His laughter should have annoyed her, but having missed his presence for quite a long while, even his mockery is now welcome. Eleanore sighs.

He flicks his hand, beaming, as he says,"I respect your word. No more ill-advised kisses."

"Good. And I was to blame back there, alright."

He shrugs, glancing aside. "I always say that for you mortals, it is far better to play around before tying oneself forever..."

He smiles.

Her stomach flips at his words. "I did not mean to play with you," she says, absentmindedly fiddling with the golden cufflinks on the coat. "Forgive me? I was..."

Luca rests a fingertip under his chin, his elbow resting on the top of his other hand.

Eleanore raises a brow.

"Let me guess..."

She blinks.

"You were confused."

"And afraid," she loudly exhales, relieved that he laid down his barbs and understood, "and doubting, and lonely-"

"Much like tonight, am I right?"

She gawks. Eleanore glances behind her and then back at him. "How..." she shakes her head. "How did you even-"

Luca grins widely. "Oh, Eleanore. I fancy that I know you so well. And I do!" He muses, striding to her desk. Luca cocks his head to the side, and she realizes his gaze drops to the dark crumpled shirt she has been mending. The God of the Night lifts it with one finger by the neckline.

The silver needle dangles on its brown thread, swinging back and forth almost hypnotically.

Eleanore frowns. "What is it?" She takes a step forward, aiming to snatch it away. "I was mending that before you barged in-"

"Ah." He raises his chin and inspects the half-sewn hole. "Now, I see..."

"What?" Her shoulders tense up. Eleanore takes a deep breath. "I understand why you are here, Luca. I was about to call you myself-"

But the formidable spirit just lays the shirt back down.

"So..." Luca grimaces, the mask falling off and the shadows painting across his usual pale face. "This is what you have been busy with?"

Her brows meet as his face twists to a cold scowl. They are both unyielding, and simmering with hidden anger. A wrong assumption on his part, she knows that. Eleanore takes a deep breath. "Sewing? Yes, among others."