Copper Ravens(68)

“I…Micah, I’m so young. And we really haven’t really known each other for very long. And—” He turned up my chin, and I met those silver eyes. “Not never, but not now. Not for a long time, probably.” Micah sighed and leaned his forehead against mine. “I’ll go. We’ll all get out of your hair—”

“My hair?”

Right. “My family. We won’t trouble you anymore.”

“Sara, you do not trouble me,” he murmured. “Max is troubling, yes, and your mother may yet be the death of me. But you,” he threaded his fingers through my hair, his eyes searching mine, “the only trouble you give me is when we’re apart, and I can’t see to the tasks before me.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh.” When we were apart I thought about him constantly, too—what he could be doing, if he would laugh at this or that, when he would be home. When he would hold me again. Max and Sadie both thought that our closeness was unusual, unhealthy even, but I didn’t. To me, nothing had ever felt so right as being with Micah. “But if you can’t have an heir…”

I couldn’t finish, not while he was staring at me like that. I’d had this conversation in my head a hundred—no, a thousand—times, and I knew exactly how it ended—me leaving the manor, off to fend for myself in the Mundane world. Oh, wait, I couldn’t go back there, so I guessed I would just be homeless here in the Otherworld.

But when I had mentally rehearsed these conversations, Micah hadn’t looked at me as if his heart was breaking.

“Micah,” I began, knotting my fist in his shirt. Before I could continue, a silverkin appeared out of frickin’ nowhere, chattering away like mad. After a few moments, I learned that Max, who had gone out the moment we’d returned, was back, and he was a bit the worse for wear. Micah nodded toward the silverkin, muttering under his breath about my inconsiderate fool of a brother. I moved to follow the little guy, but I was captured in Micah’s arms.

“You are not trouble,” Micah said, grasping the token I wore. “You are mine, and you will remain so. Mine,” he repeated, this time kissing me hard for added emphasis. He abruptly released me, and we went downstairs to see what sort of trouble Max had gotten into this time.





21

We found Max seated at the head of the dining room table, bruised and bloodied with his feet propped up, muddy boots and all, slurping coffee. The long table had been polished to a glasslike shine…emphasis on the “had been.” Good gods, we’d been gone all of two hours, which meant that Max had been away from the manor for less than two hours, yet he couldn’t manage to stay out of trouble for that extremely short amount of time. I had a strong suspicion that, if Micah wasn’t already done with Max’s nonsense, he would be now.

If I hadn’t been trailing a step or two behind Micah, I wouldn’t have noticed the muscles in his shoulders tighten when he saw Max’s deplorable state, or the abrupt way he halted when he saw my brother’s filthy, disrespectful pose. Somehow, despite his anger, Micah kept his voice calm when he spoke.

“Remove your feet from my table,” Micah said. “Now.”

Max opened his mouth, probably to finally utter the words that would cause Micah to throw him out once and for all, but he never got the chance to speak. Two of the silverkin yanked Max’s chair backward, his feet hitting the floor with such force that coffee splattered all over him. Shep, who was even less of a fan of boots on the table than Micah, began wiping up the muddy mess while ignoring Max.

“Hey,” Max said, trying to get Shep’s attention, “can I get a refill? Or a towel?” It was only when Shep bustled off to the kitchen that Micah continued his interrogation.

“Whose property have you destroyed this time, Max?” Okay, Micah was a bit condescending, but Max had earned it. The last brawl Max had gotten himself into had cost Micah a prized orchard in recompense, and the damage from the most recent incident with iron warriors had been considerable. “Or was the fight here, and only my home has been damaged?”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Max grumbled. “I was down at the tavern. We were throwing dice, and it got out of hand. It’s fine now.”

“We?” Micah asked.

“We.” Max and Micah stared at each other, each of them refusing to give ground. Just when I’d had enough of this macho pissing contest, Mom and Sadie entered, the former carrying a bowl of water, the latter clean cloths.