Page 63 of Fallen Court

Chapter Sixteen

Cate

Ciara’s driving had not improved in my absence. I gripped the grab handle, holding on for dear life as she took a hairpin turn like there was a checkered flag waiting on the other side. Naturally, she was oblivious, chattering merrily the entire time, as if crashing was the furthest thing from her mind. Then again, she would recover if we did.

Lach was wrong. There was no way that I was a fae. I still feared death. None of them ever seemed to worry about it.

“You know the bona fides spell won’t protect us from dying in a car accident, right?” I asked when she reached to adjust the mirror. At least, the spell wouldn’t protect me.

If you’re human. I shoved the thought from my mind.

She checked her lipstick, narrowly avoiding a bank of parked cars. “You worry too much.”

“I worked in a hospital,” I reminded her.

“Since I’m such a bad driver, I guess it’s a good thing we’re on our way there,” she teased, but there was a nervous energy to her behavior that belied her cool attitude: eyes darting to check the mirrors, constantly glancing out the windows. I hadn’t seen her this on edge since Bain was in town.

Scrounging up some faith, I released my hold on the handle. I wiggled in my seat to face her, doing my best to ignore the city whizzing past her window at breakneck speeds. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m just making sure that no one is following us,” she admitted.

I blinked. “Why would anyone be following us?”

She looked over at me, sighing deeply.

“Eyes on the road!” I barked at her.

She dutifully turned back to it. “Because Roark is always around now.”

I don’t know what I had expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. “Roark? You think he’s following us?”

“He takes his job as penumbra very seriously.” Her pert nose wrinkled like she actually smelled him coming. “He’s always around, checking on me, asking if I need anything, reminding me to eat and sleep.”

“Sounds like absolute torture,” I said dryly. “Maybe he’s just worried about you.”

“I know he is… Shit.” She propped her elbows against the steering wheel to yank the signet ring off her finger before dropping it in the Porsche’s cupholder. “And he probably heard all of that.”

“Lach says that he could tune Roark out when he was wearing it.” I frowned. “Please don’t tell me he was lying about that.”

I liked Roark, but he didn’t need a front-row seat to my love life.

Ciara’s shrug didn’t ease my fears. “So I’ve been told,” she said. “The trouble is that I never remember and I’m not even sure if I’m doing it correctly. I mean, could you imagine if someone heard all of your thoughts?”

I could see her point.

“If Lach knew the constant whiplash of emotions I felt toward him, he probably would have left me in Dublin,” I admitted.

“I doubt that.” Ciara shook her head, sending her inky hair swirling around her shoulders. “But Roark is my brother’s best friend. He hardly acknowledged my existence before this, and now he’s stuck babysitting me.”

I bit my tongue. More than once, I had noticed the Nether Court’s penumbra watching over Ciara, especially during her short-lived engagement to Bain. I doubted he saw spending time with her as a chore.

“And Lach acts like he’s really abdicated the throne,” she continued, “but he never even asked me if I wanted it. Technically, Fiona is older than me. It should be her.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re the best person for the job.”

She snorted, drumming the steering wheel with her manicured fingernails. “Fiona would be so much better than me. Hell, Shaw would be better than me.”

“Why would you think that?” It wasn’t that I thought less of her siblings, but Ciara had always seemed so self-assured. Maybe the sudden responsibility had unmoored her. I knew a thing or two about surprises; they screwed with your head. “You’re more than capable of taking charge of the court. It’s thanks to you that your brother was able to return to New Orleans.”