I let Ronan's grip guide me, my head shaking slightly.
"We're just shaken up," Ronan whispered to me. "From Beth. It's just talking."
"I know," I said quietly. But the talking I'd just heard sounded like accusations, and of what? Margaret was late, that was all. That was all. It had to be.
"There's going to be more talking in the canteen," Ronan huffed. "How about I grab us food and we eat in your room? Or back up in the loft?"
"My room," I said. "I want to wash a little, and dress. You owe me a new robe."
Ronan only snorted in answer, and his hand squeezed mine as we reached my dressing room before he pulled away to head to the canteen on his own.
I took long, deep breaths as I stepped into my room, finding my way to the candle near the door and lighting it in the dark.
My bouquet from Hunter was starting to droop, but it still made the room smell wonderful, and I wondered if I could find a way to string the branches up and hang them from the ceiling to preserve them. Certainly at home, but it would be nice here too.
I lit my small room up and was in the middle of stripping out of Ronan's shirt, ready to change into my own spare dress, when I heard the curtain shift behind me.
"That was quick. There must not have been a line," I said.
The answering grunt—a little choked—had me spinning in place. Nireas was ducking into my room, still slightly bent, his stare on my hips and waist, sliding up to my breasts as I turned. And even when his eyes rose up to mine, he didn't stop staring, just tracked his gaze slowly back down again.
"What do you need?" I asked, ignoring the effect his study had on my body, refusing to shy away from it either.
I'd meant what I'd said to Ronan. We'd all seen every inch of each other dozens, if not hundreds, of times, possibly even a thousand times when it came to Nireas. At least, he'd seen me. I'd never gotten much of a good look at him, only enough to know I was missing fascinating pieces of the puzzle.
He wet his lips, his eyes on my hips again, and then they dropped to the floor and he stepped fully inside, his head remaining bowed with the ceiling bumping against the back of it. I was tempted to offer him a seat, but he would take up so much room, fill my space even more than he already was doing.
"You're right. I shouldn't have picked at you and Evie like that," he said.
I sighed a little and nodded, tossing Ronan's shirt to the chair and pulling the dress on over my head. "I don't blame you for being nervous. I'm nervous."
"I was… You're never late," Nireas said, gaze flicking up through long, dark lashes.
"Technically, I was here the whole time," I pointed out, and my heartbeat stuttered when his lips twitched with a smile. "They'll find Margaret, or she'll turn up and we'll wonder why we ever worried."
Nireas's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded, his head thumping lightly against the ceiling of my dressing room. I smiled at the sight of him, clumsy and too big for the room—pretty too—and he answered me with a fuller smile of his own, one so rare it took my breath away. I hadn't seen that smile in years.
And then he turned, and the light from the hall cut around him.
"Oh, uh—"
I blinked at Ronan's voice and Nireas didn't say another word, didn't look back once, simply ducked again and left the room, making room for the imp. Ronan entered, looking over his shoulder, a plate of steaming food balanced on each hand.
"What was he doing here?" he asked.
"I don't—He apologized for, you know, upstairs," I said, waving a hand.
Ronan raised his eyebrows and crossed to me. "You mean when he was a hysterical prat because you were an hour late to show your face?"
I blushed and hid it by hurrying over to the chaise, holding my hand out for my food.
"Tell me the truth about you two," Ronan said, not moving from the center of the room.
I stiffened. "What do you mean? There is no truth."
"There's something. You only wear that prim, innocent expression when you're keeping a secret," Ronan said.
I tried to fight my traitorous face, not sure what he meant, and leaned forward to reach the plate again.
Ronan skirted backwards out of reach.
"Ro, I'm starving."
"Then tell me."
"No!"
Ronan blinked at me, grin growing, and raised one of the plates to his lips, eating a bite of the bacon hanging over the edge with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Then you're not that hungry."
"There's nothing."