Page 42 of Chasing the Night

Chapter Fifteen

Caught in the Mix

Ender

I woke the next morning with her name strangled in my throat. In my dreams, she had been staring up at me the same way she had Keifer, and for a fraction of a second, I felt like a Fallen God.

“Fuck,” I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. I needed to go find a peasant girl, a Painted Lady, something. Anything, to get rid of the thoughts and legion of things that came with them. I couldn’t let her be another Reverie.

Get a grip, Ender. No, not on that.

Who was I kidding? I nearly ended the most harmless of Kantors, simply for his being in her presence. For sharing a moment that I desperately wanted. A moment I knew would never come because I would never allow myself to put her in such danger.

I flung the linen aside and scrambled to look out the window, suddenly compelled to get to her before Kantor did. The sun was barely kissing the noon hour on the great sun scale.

Perfect.

I splashed water on myself and found some spiced lotion. A few moments later, I was dressed and ambling down the stairs just as fast and loud as my brother had descended them not so long ago.

By the time I reached the lower level, everyone was coming out to see what the fuss was.

“Chalice!” I called with a smile. “I thought we could get some lunch, and perhaps you might give your opinion on the inventory down at the surgery?”

Isabella looked at me the way she did the dock mongers, a pure sense of astonishment, followed by disgust and dismissal.

“Yeah…” Chalice hesitantly agreed. “Okay.”

She went back into her room and returned a few moments later with a long-crocheted shawl. Her gown was leather, from the corset down to the toes, with intricate lace from the corset to the shoulders. A matching leather and lace high-fashion collar rested over her lace-clad shoulders and spanned up to cup the bottom of her jaw.

She was immaculately put together and had perfected the art of walking in high spiked slippers. I was smitten and too struck by her appearance to conceal it. Satisfaction shone in her honey brown eyes as she sauntered past, clicking her tongue as if I were slacking.

I laughed at myself and followed along, jogging to keep up with her while accidently falling behind, on purpose occasionally. It was a sight that left me silently sucking my teeth and smiling every time she looked my way.

Once I had the door unlocked and her ushered inside, I paused, completely losing my train of thought.

“The inventory?” She smiled skeptically.

Shoving my brows upward, I stifled a nervous laugh and waved her toward the side room. I unlocked the tonic cabinet and let her see for herself. She stepped forward, keeping her eye on me like I might pounce.

“It looks like you need more honey. Perhaps a bit more astringent… Ender, where’s the root?” Her voice rose with alarm and her face froze with concern.

“I… guess I need more,” I quietly acknowledged. She wasn’t buying it. Who would? She’d delivered a years’ worth of root less than six weeks ago.

We stared at each other, both hoping not to find something. I could see the pain and confusion in her eyes. She was assessing me for signs of addiction, while I was searching for some sign that she was a snitch. Her mouth slowly opened, only to close without consequence. I could see the queries dancing behind her big brown eyes. More numerous than either of us would ever aspire to count.

“I don’t have any more in Rochambeau…” she stressed almost inaudibly.

“Then where?” If I could get her on a journey, no way was Kantor seeing her tonight. “You were travelling back and forth to sell your herbs… it can’t be far.”

Her jaw set and she searched my eyes again. Fuck. I guessed that had sounded rather fiend-like.

“Find me more, and I’ll prove it isn’t what you think…” I kept my voice low, even though we were alone. It was a habit when discussing product.

Her lips pursed, and she narrowed her gaze. “How do I know you won’t memorize my spot and steal it all?” she asked, tipping her chin as if she had out maneuvered me. I didn’t give a fuck about the root. We could have gone in search of a four-leaf clover, for all I gave a damn. Anything to be the one she shared that alone time with. She was always sneaking off with Kantor or sharing an evening with Messiah.

I shook my head, uncertain why I even cared about such things, but my rational reasoning wasn’t enough to purge the craving. Fated Few. I was craving her. “Fuck.”

“Excuse me?” Chalice laughed, settling a hand on her hip.