Granite eyes flash to mine. “It must be in the cave.”
*
I can live in the castle or the barracks. I choose the barracks, but instead of being housed in the women’s wing, I’m given the room between Kato and Flynn. I guess Griffin wasn’t bluffing about everyone keeping an eye on me.
Griffin lives in the castle, and as I settle into my new room, I feel annoyingly dejected. I was getting used to his solid presence, hearing him breathe in the dark. I’ll miss sleeping through the night.
Alone and bored, I take a nap because it’s impossible to resist the bed. Later, Griffin arrives, cleaned up, shaved, and looking striking in much finer clothes than I’ve seen him in before. He informs me that I’m having dinner in the castle and then shepherds me across the courtyard with a firm hand on my lower back, nudging when I balk at the entrance to the formal dining room.
“I’m not dressed enough,” I mutter, digging in my heels.
He looks me over. “You look dressed to me. I recall a lot more skin when you’re not.”
The blush that instantly hits my face sparks a teasing gleam in his eyes. Once it’s back, I realize how much I missed it.
“And a few freckles over here,” he adds, trailing his fingertips up my ribs and coming dangerously close to the swell of my breast.
A wave of pure heat crashes over me, and I jerk away from his hand. “I’m about to dine with Sintan royalty. Not that I take any of you seriously, but there is such a thing as tradition.”
He shrugs. “I’m wearing pants.”
“Are the women?”
His expression turns resigned. “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”
“I can go shopping by myself. I’ve been to Sinta City before.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not leaving the castle without me.”
“You have other things to do. Send Kato. Or Flynn.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
He goes from resigned to belligerent in a heartbeat. “Do you need me to say it in—”
“Sign language won’t be necessary,” I interrupt, scowling. Disgruntled, I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. I’ll show these people how a curtsy is done, even if I am wearing soggy boots and a bloody pair of pants. Literally. There’s blood on them, and I can’t get it out, no matter how hard I scrub. At least it’s not mine.
I take a step forward only to get jerked back.
“Are there things men need to know about court etiquette? Things I need to know?”
I huff. “Men just stand around looking ferocious, frowning, and flexing their muscles. It’s very unfair.”
Griffin chuckles and raises his hand. I flinch—old habits die hard—and he frowns at my reaction. He smooths his hand down my braid, his calluses snagging on strands of hair. The tips of his fingers brush the side of my neck, and their roughness makes me shiver.
“You should really stop resisting me,” he murmurs.
I swallow, fighting the urge to step away. Or step closer. Gods! What is wrong with me? I hardly recognize my own voice when I speak. “Why?”
He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Because you don’t want to.” He slips his hand around my waist, and his lips graze my cheek, soft and warm.
I freeze, disturbingly aware of how my body tries to gravitate toward his. When he lifts his head, his gray eyes are stormy and full of things I can’t have, or even think about. My heart starts thumping, the wild, erratic pounding leaving me breathless. I step back, grumble something about arrogant warlords, and straighten my clothes, which were straight to begin with. Looking smug, Griffin offers me his arm. I ignore it and step into the room first, breaking etiquette just to get away from him.
Still hot and flushed, I dip into a court curtsy. It’s less pretty without the flowing folds of a dress around me, but it’ll have to do. I hold the pose. And hold. My thighs start to burn. “Alpha Sinta is supposed to tell me to get up!” I hiss to Griffin.
“Egeria!” He mimes something I see out of the corner of my eye.
“Cat!” she cries. “Please stand.”
I do, suppressing a groan of relief.
“That was a lovely curtsy.” Kaia beams, clapping. Definitely the youngest. So enthusiastic, and completely inappropriate. “Can you teach me?”
Griffin gives one of her loose curls an affectionate tug before taking an intricately woven hellipses grass crown from the leather pouch at his side. Kaia looks delighted, and there’s an odd pang inside me when I realize he must have made it for her. “That’s part of Cat’s job,” he says, positioning the circlet on his sister’s head with exaggerated care and concentration. “She’ll teach us all about court etiquette, especially you ladies.”