Does it matter? Rory was about to say, but something about Sebastian’s expression suggested that it did. He didn’t know about the link to Arthur, that Rory would be safe because he had another lifeline.

And he didn’t know that Rory also knew all about having to be alone because of magic.

“You should take that ring,” Rory blurted. “I’m such a bad King of the Wind.”

“Wait.” Sebastian stared at him. “I’ve been told about the tidal wave you stopped on Coney Island. Please tell me that was the only time you’ve actually used the fifteenth-century magic in that ring anywhere near all the helpless non-magical people in the world?”

“Um.” Rory snagged the box and gingerly pulled it back across the table, hissing under his breath at the sting of lead. “I’ll just put this back in my pocket, outta reach of the fella under blood magic, yeah?”

“You do that,” Sebastian muttered, rubbing his temples.

Chapter Seventeen

The veterans’ event was in a small, ground-floor ballroom in an attractive hotel. It was well attended and interesting, and Arthur wasn’t enjoying it at all. After doing a poor job at making even idle conversation with a dozen other former soldiers, he needed air.

He stepped out to the veranda. The soft rain had stopped for the moment, leaving gray skies and cool wet air. Arthur stared at the greenery, a weight in his chest.

He should have known he wouldn’t get to keep Rory forever.

Footsteps sounded behind him on the stone. “Arthur, really.” Wesley’s deep voice cut through the empty space. “Hasn’t Rory finally gotten you over your brooding?”

Arthur’s eyes stayed on the foliage as Wesley stepped next to him. “Rory’s currently enjoying the company of someone else.”

Wesley struck a match. “Rubbish.”

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” Arthur said heavily, as Wesley lit a cigar—Cuban and expensive, his society smokes, not the cheap cigarettes he actually preferred. “An obnoxiously handsome someone else.”

“I see.” Wesley took a deep drag. “And this someone else has made some kind of move on your alley cat?”

“Well—no,” Arthur admitted. “But why shouldn’t Rory be interested?”

“Because you’re what interests him? He’s made that so abundantly clear that I’m frankly not sure why we’re having this conversation.”

“I interested him in the beginning. Who’s to say I should keep that interest?” Arthur gazed into the garden. “He was a recluse, alone. Now he’s coming out of his shell and he’s going to discover the world is full of other people as interesting as he is.”

Wesley blew out the smoke. “You are a six-foot, three-inch coward. Why did I ever want you back?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Did you know,” Wesley said, breezily talking right over Arthur’s indignation, “that your filthy urchin was ready to fight me for you?”

Arthur blinked.