Page 154 of The Violet Raven
“I’m sure she had good reason. Triona does nothin’ without purpose.”
Amelia arches a brow, setting her cup down with a soft clink. “And what, pray tell, did Deidre do to deserve such culinary vengeance?”
Deidre doesn’t hesitate. “I encouraged a brisk trot through the house.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands.
“She chased me,” I mutter through my fingers, “out of the room in nothing but a sheer slip. Practically see-through, Amelia. I flashed my brothers.”
Amelia sputters and chokes on her tea.
Deidre lifts her chin, completely unapologetic. “Wouldn’t have chased you if you hadn’t called me the Abhartach.”
Amelia gapes. “You called her the Irish vampire?”
“She was practically hissing at me!” I argue, flailing a hand. “Bloodthirsty eyes, waking me out of a dead sleep, just to yell.”
Deidre lifts her cup with an amused smile. “You’ve a flare for the dramatics, just like your dear Auntie.”
Finn picks up the tray of leite creme, inspecting it with a small, amused smile. “Still,” he adds, setting the cream down with a mock sigh, “it’s a shame. It’s my second favourite sweet treat.”
His gaze flicks briefly—pointedly—to where I sit before returning to his cup, the curve of his mouth deepening into something dangerously close to a smirk.
Deidre laughs lightly, a sound as warm as the morning sun. “Next time, I’ll make sure it’s unsalted. You have my word.”
Their conversation flows easily, laughter and light banter filling the room, but I can’t focus. The air feels thick, every glance and word a weight pressing down on me.
Finn is still at the table, handpicking pastries and fruit, but I can feel his presence like a beacon, drawing my attention no matter how hard I try to look elsewhere. It is all too much.
I push my chair back, the sound loud enough to draw a glance from Amelia and Deidre. “Excuse me,” I say quickly, my voice tight, though I try to force a polite smile. “I need some air.”
Amelia’s brow furrows slightly, her concern clear, but she nods. “Take your time, love,” she whispers, her tone as gentle as always.
Deidre’s gaze lingers on me a moment longer, her expression unreadable, but she says nothing.
I don’t dare look at Finn as I rise. My heart hammers in my chest as I make my way to the door, my steps quick but measured, trying to appear composed.
The moment I step into the hallway, the cool air hits me, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling as I press them to my sides. My mind races, torn between the pull of what just happened and the need to steady myself.
I lean against the wall, closing my eyes and letting the quiet of the house envelop me. It doesn’t dull the memory of his eyes or the warmth of his kiss, but it gives me space to breathe, to gather the pieces of myself that feel scattered in his presence.
Behind me, the faint hum of conversation continues in the dining room, but I push forward to my room, determined to stay in it for the rest of the day while I sit with these confusing feelings.
28
Mystery Unraveled
Triona
Wednesday, 4 June 1823
Casa da Prímula
As I hoped, no one came to my bedchamber yesterday. It was cowardly of me to hide, but I couldn’t bring myself to face anyone—not with these feelings swirling inside me. Too afraid to act as if what happened in that hallway didn’t happen. Too afraid to pretend I’m fine when I’m not.
Looking out the window, I catch sight of Casey sitting alone near the garden’s edge. His shoulders are hunched, and there’s a heaviness in the way he sits, like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. I’d wanted to seek him out anyway, to ask about what happened in the hall yesterday. His behaviour was just so… unlike him.
I move through the villa quietly, my steps careful as I weave through the hallways. No one sees me, and I step outside into the cool air. The distinct sounds of sparring drift from the training yard. Bran’s laugh echoes, followed by Callan’s gruff retort. I don’t linger long enough to see if Finn is there. Instead, I head toward Casey, who remains motionless by the garden’s edge, his head bowed.
