A Battle of Blood and Stone (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 4)

There’s no helping the laugh that escapes me, and I know without a doubt Carrick will be a million times more proprietary with someone like Pyke, who overtly likes to push his buttons by flirting with me. It would probably cost him his life.

“Deandra is bound and she knows everything, even about me being reincarnated. Nimeyah is bound, but she doesn’t know that piece of information. Can they discuss the mutual things they both know?”

Carrick shakes his head. “No, they are both forbidden from speaking of any of this with each other unless I give specific permission. Not that it would ever be needed. Nimeyah would like to pretend none of this is happening, and Deandra wants out of Faere for good.”

“And you’re not offering the same information in exchange for a binding to Pyke right now?”

“Not unless we need him in some specific role, but, right now, we don’t.”

Leaning in, Carrick presses his lips on my forehead. It’s not in a way that makes me feel like a child, but rather one of reverence.

Appreciation I’m doing this.

As he takes my hand, we head for his bedroom door, but then he stops, turning to face me. After a short squeeze to my hand, he says, “One other thing… Deandra is going to stay here in a guest room while she trains you.”

He lays that on me without an ounce of apology in his voice, and I can tell he expects I won’t make a big deal about it. Because if I believe in everything he’s just said—if I believe in him—it shouldn’t matter that the woman he slept with eons ago is under this roof.

I can give him that, but, jealousy aside, I feel the obligation to remind him, “You want an extremely powerful Light Fae who hates not only humans—but also really hates me—to be within close enough proximity that she could slit my throat in my sleep?”

Carrick cocks an eyebrow. “Well, seeing as how you sleep with me, I seriously doubt it’s going to happen while you sleep.”

I can’t help but snort at his flippancy, but I know Carrick is never going to let Deandra hurt me. I wouldn’t have put it past him to add my protection and safety to the binding.

“Fine if she stays,” I mutter, exaggerating my distaste just a little. Carrick’s right. Deandra shouldn’t bother me one little bit.

* * *

I’m going to kill the bitch. Sneak into her room and drive an iron spike into her heart.

Of course, that’s wishful thinking. What a mess that would make for Carrick—having to explain to the royal family that I killed their princess—but she is driving me to the brink of insanity.

In the last hour that Deandra has been trying to “teach” me how to use magic, a good fifty minutes has been spent with us lobbing insults at each other and making veiled threats.

Frankly put… I can’t stand the woman.

Unfortunately, Carrick was right because the more she needles me, the more pissed off I become, and the more my abilities seem to open up. The only thing I can think of is if I am not under great emotion or stress, I’m actually a little too untrusting of my powers and have some kind of block going on.

But if I get scared or pissed off, I don’t have time to doubt myself, so I’m able to reach more easily into myself.

I know this because the first taunt she sent my way caused something to happen. After Carrick had led me back to the man-cave where Maddox was teaching Deandra how to play pool, he set some ground rules and reiterated some warnings to Deandra. She merely smacked on some bubble gum with a sly grin, refusing to acknowledge what he had said.

It didn’t matter. She was harmless.

I suggested we get started right away because if Carrick was right and she could help me get in touch with my own magic, then the sooner we started, the sooner she could leave. We had a few hours until Lucien arrived, so what better time? I took her to the gym, having to stop repeatedly as she oohed and aahed over Carrick’s condo, exclaiming he was going to set her up in one just like this.

I highly doubted it, but I did know he’d throw a lot of money her way to get what he wanted.

She threw the first taunt at me no sooner than we had crossed the gym’s threshold.

“Frankly, I don’t see what Carrick finds to be appealing about you. I know I’m much better in bed with him than you could ever be.”

I wanted to ignore the barb, but I couldn’t. A warm glow flared in my chest, and, yes, part was anger, but part was something that felt strangely liberating. As if I had nothing to lose by tapping into my powers.