Lost in You by Alix Rickloff Page A

collapse. It was like being infected by a hundred such hounds instead of only one.”
    She cocked her head at a questioning angle. “You’ve got the reliquary. You don’t need me anymore. Why do you care what happens to me?”
    “Asher is after you because of me.” What a smooth liar he was becoming. With his hand in his pocket, he tumbled the ring between his fingers. Ellery Reskeen would not stand between him and his task. No matter how dear she was or how desirable. He cut her off before she could ask him something else he couldn’t answer. “You were either very brave or very foolish to get involved last night.”
    She offered him a crooked smile. “Probably a bit of both. But I wasn’t alone. Evan helped. He brought me the dress, too. You owe him a pound and six shillings for it, by the way. He’s told us to keep out of sight while we’re here. He isn’t sure how long he can guarantee our safety.”
    “Now that I’ve revealed myself as Other , you mean.” It must have been the mother of all cock-ups if Evan had interceded. Despite the reputation of his inn among the Other , he didn’t like any attention drawn to the fact. His normal clientele weren’t so forgiving of strange doings and stranger people. Conor hoped he hadn’t bollixed things up for him too badly. He’d accused Ellery of leaving a trail for Asher and here he’d done everything but paint a bull’s-eye on their backs.
    “Will it happen again? Your changing like that?”
    “No. It’s a power, but one I use sparingly. The discipline and magic it requires make it dangerous. Draw on the power too often or too deeply and there’s no turning back. The man becomes lost. The beast takes over.”
    She leaned back against the windowsill, pushed her curls off her face. “It seems everything you do is dangerous.”
    He gave a short dry laugh. “Now, you’re catching on.”
     
     
    She watched him sleep, damning herself for the worst sort of coward. All day they had spent talking. She could have brought up her father a million different ways. But every time, she shied away, and the question remained unasked.
    But what a question.
    Did you kill my father? How could anyone drop that into the middle of a conversation nonchalantly?
    They’d talked of her father. She’d somehow found herself telling Conor long tales of her childhood. Of the days before her mother died when her father’s regiment had been stationed in the Leewards. Of pleading with him to take her along when he was sent home. Of clutching at his legs while his friends laughed or looked away until he’d finally been shamed into relenting. And later as they’d moved back and forth between stations at home and on the continent, she told Conor of how she gave ground as each new mistress entered her father’s life, took up the household duties as they moved on.
    Security revolved in making herself indispensable, anticipating his needs before he did. Being a doormat when sometimes all she wanted was to throw his haversack back at him and never see another scarlet jacket again.
    She liked to think they did well together after a fashion. And if there hadn’t been love, there had been respect and affection and laughter. It could have been so much worse.
    Conor had listened and told his own stories. Stories of growing up in Cornwall, living in a house full of aunts and uncles and cousins, the comings and goings of a family balanced between the mortal world and the fey . He laughed, remembering the pranks he and his cousin, Ruan played on the others. His voice grew proud as he spoke of his gram’s un-tiring work as a healer in the neighborhood, of his father’s quiet strength as he tended his estate. The deep love he felt for them all was evident in every word. Ellery couldn’t help the envy that gnawed at her. She would have given her life to have such a family—or any family.
    She’d asked him only once about Ysbel, the sister he’d lost. His eyes had gone black and empty. The