I glance at Ryodan. A muscle is working in his jaw. Oh, yeah, he didn’t like that hero comment.
Then we’re all getting out and loading up cables and hooks and spikes and lacing our hiking boots tightly.
34
“Walking the cliff’s edge, going over, going over”
MAC
If I allow myself a moment of completely serious sincerity, though I often bitch about my current companions, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
None of them.
Over time I’ve developed a grudging admiration and respect for Ryodan. Recent events have further honed it into something close to affection. He’s become the older, irritating brother that drives me crazy, but I’d defend him the instant someone else tried to criticize. I’ll never let him know that. I’m glad he keeps the men together. Someone needs to. I’ve also finally acknowledged to myself that I think he’s one hell of a sexy man. I thought so even before I met him, merely from his voice on the phone, the mysterious IYCGM. I’d resisted liking him with the same fervent intensity I’d devoted to disliking Barrons. I’d known from the first I could like them both more than I wanted to.
Dageus and Drustan are very similar to Barrons and Ryodan; strong men, tough, sexy, and fascinating in a human way that if I’d not met Barrons first, and they’d not been married, I’d have fallen hard for one of them. Of the two, Drustan is the stable, solid, reliable one. He exudes a palpable sense of calm competence, even in the midst of confusion. Dageus is the wild card, with a dark edge to him that’s an enormous turn-on. And their rich, husky Scots brogue is to die for.
Barrons, well, it goes without saying but I’ll say it: he’s the best of the best. The strong, silent, dangerously attractive type that harbors a private, vast, brilliant inner landscape of knowledge, wisdom, and experience, and watches, always watches, learns, adapts, evolves. A woman takes one look at the dark, carnal complexity that is Barrons and thinks: Damn, if that man chose me, took me into his inner circle, I’d never stray, never betray him. Beastly and brutal? Sure. Merciful when the situation demands it? Absolutely. Demanding? None more so. Exciting? Holy shit, yes. Respectful of my needs to make my own decisions? Most of the time.
The memory theft incident is a notable exception—and believe me, I’m not done bitching about it. It’s a good thing he leveled that playing field. I need to know he can’t do it to me again, although I suspect he wouldn’t even if he could. He did have a few valid points. I shut him out every time he got close to me. Rejected him at every turn. I marvel at how well he restrained himself over the subsequent months after that night together. If I’d known what incredible sex we’d had and he kept rejecting me, I’d have gotten more than a little pissy. I’d have half hated that I’d taken his memory away, but it would have been too late to undo it … so … maybe I would have taught him to resist that trick so it could never happen again. I get the impression he’s sometimes stymied, trying to figure out how to cope with me. From what I know of him, he was alone for a long time before me, Fiona the exception, and she was little more than an acquaintance with benefits.
Jada. I like the wench. Brilliant, strong, focused, gifted. I can’t think of many other people I’d want fighting at my back—if only I could believe she wouldn’t stab me in it at the first opportunity. Hate her for taking Dani, but if the kid had to come back as someone else, well, she couldn’t have come back more kick-ass.
I sneak a look at her then remember I don’t have to sneak anything. She really is beautiful. I smile faintly. Good for Dani. I always told her she would be. And there’s no doubt Ryodan thinks so, too. God, he’s got his hands full with that situation. He was practically raising the kid, now she’s a grown, fire-and-ice woman. Trouble behind, trouble ahead.
I’m looking forward to watching it play out.
The climb up the side of the mountain goes smoothly. Though patches of brilliant snow shimmer in the moonlight, we stick to the dark, rocky areas that thawed in the heat of the day’s sun, the better to blend.
Everyone blackened their faces before climbing, not that any of them have fair skin but Jada. We’re all in good physical condition, which renders the cable pulls that were pounded in for tourists unnecessary. At least the Hag picked a popular mountain to stake Christian on the opposite side of. We’d have been in a world of shit if she’d chosen Everest. Fortunately, Everest is too far from Dublin for her purposes. From her attempts to abduct the other Unseelie Princes—who she presumably doesn’t know are dead—she’d planned to eventually stake all of them to the side of Christian’s cliff.
I shudder. Gruesome.
As we begin the final stretch, I ponder the Book’s unnatural silence. I keep waiting for it to begin talking again, throw a few vile images at me, turn me visible at a critical moment, anything. I don’t understand why it’s gone so silent. It’s almost as if it’s actually gone.
It makes me nervous.
In time, I might begin to forget it’s there and wonder if that’s the Sinsar Dubh’s plan. To lull me into lowering my guards, like Barrons and Ryodan did with the princes.
As we navigate a narrow crevice between boulders, Ryodan says in a rough whisper, “When you get close to Christian, talk to him before you touch him. He’s a hair-trigger. You can’t afford to have him jerk and drop the spear. I don’t want any of us to have to climb this bloody cliff twice. Prepare him. He must be able to hold onto it and hold himself on the cliff until she comes again.”