He rembered how he had to run stupid errands for his boss in the modern wolf, he couldn’t do anything because well... He was just soone ordinary with no power. This ti, he had so power, and why would he not abuse it every once in a while?
So yes, this man was going to have to give him a lift even if he didn’t like that those wolves would be trailing them. Anyway, it was not like they were going to get inside the carriage and crowd it! They were wolves! And they would rather be on their feet.
Once arrangents were made, the old man gestured politely toward the open door. "Please," he said, "you first."
Riven climbed inside and settled onto the plush bench seat, the faint scent of herbs and clean linen soothing after the cold air. He could feel the older man’s gaze on him, and when he finally joined him inside, he closed the door with careful precision.
The carriage jolted forward again, beginning the last leg of the journey.
They sat in silence for a few monts, the rhythm of the wheels and the muffled hoofbeats filling the space. Riven studied the older man from the corner of his eye. He looked important, wouldn’t hurt to make an ally in the Snow Leopard clan.
Finally, the old man spoke. "I don’t believe we have t," he said, in that sa smooth, asured tone. "I am Nicholas. One of Master Soren’s senior advisors."
Riven turned to face him fully. "Nicholas... Lord Nicholas," he corrected himself, he knew that the snow leopard clan was not big on nobility, wealth and power mattered, birth did not. So, though so had the nasake title, it did not matter.
He considered how to introduce himself. Did he even need to? Soren had made it pretty clear—obnoxiously clear—who he belonged to. He doubted there was a single Snow Leopard elder who didn’t know precisely who he was.
Still, it felt rude to say nothing at all.
"Riven," he said simply, inclining his head. "I suppose you already know."
Nicholas’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile or a grimace. "Indeed," he murmured. "Master Soren has spoken of you at length."
At length. That sounded about right.
Riven wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or embarrassed. Probably both.
"He’s very..." Nicholas began, then trailed off. His pale eyes drifted to the window, as if searching for a polite way to finish the thought.
"Passionate?" Riven finished the sentence, he would not let Soren be insulted by so old guy.
Nicholas’s gaze slid back to him, and for the first ti, a genuine smile ghosted across his face. "Yes," he said, "that would be the word."
Riven huffed a laugh, relaxing a fraction. At least Nicholas didn’t seem like the worst sort. He’d been expecting so stuffy old noble who’d glare at him the whole way.
Sure, if he actually did that... Knowing Soren, he would probably pluck his eyes out.
Even with exhaustion pulling at his bones, he couldn’t quite bring himself to close his eyes. The made him feel at ease and uncomfortable at the sa ti. He could not quite explain it.
He did not seem like the evil type. He looked pretty handso, though he was in his sixties. Riven could tell he used to be hot- and Riven loved hotness, but this man made his skin crawl for so reason.
The man t Riven’s gaze with such intensity that Riven felt it like a physical thing—a prickling weight pressing down on his shoulders. Nicholas didn’t blink, didn’t even look away for a second. His pale eyes were like shards of ice, sharp enough to cut.
Riven shifted in his seat, then swallowed.
Okay, what was this?
He’d dealt with plenty of scary n in his life. Of course, he slept with them later... So... He did not intend to sleep with this scary old man, though-
Riven opened his mouth to say sothing—anything to break the silence—but no words ca out.
Then Nicholas leaned closer.
Riven’s breath caught. He imdiately pressed himself back into the corner of the seat, palms bracing against the cushion.
Nope. Absolutely not. He did not want to die today.
Nicholas raised one eyebrow, there was a change in his expression that he quickly masked.
lowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand.
Riven stiffened. His heart was hamring in his chest, and he was pretty sure his face had gone pale. He closed his eyes, inwardly cursing himself for being a complete wimp.
Seriously? This was humiliating. He’d faced down assassins. He’d survived a damn coma. And yet here he was—about to faint over a single old man leaning toward him.
He felt Nicholas’s fingers at his collar. His breath stuttered out in a thin, nervous exhale.
Any second now. That was it. He was going to be strangled in a Snow Leopard carriage for reasons he didn’t even understand.
Riven braced himself... And nothing happened.
After a mont, he cracked one eye open, just enough to see what Nicholas was actually doing.
The man was holding a small, brittle leaf between two gloved fingers. He examined it, expression as blank as ever, before flicking it onto the carriage floor.
Riven stared at the leaf, then up at Nicholas.
Nicholas sighed softly. His cold expression eased into sothing almost apologetic. "A stray leaf," he said in that smooth, detached voice. "It must have caught on your cloak when you stepped down."
Riven blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He let out a shaky laugh that sounded embarrassingly high-pitched. "Right," he muttered. "A leaf. Of course."
Nicholas inclined his head, the motion precise and polite. "Forgive for alarming you," he said evenly. "It was not my intention."
Riven cleared his throat. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. "Uh... Thank you," he managed, though he couldn’t quite et Nicholas’s eyes again. "For... That."
There was a beat of awkward silence.
Riven shifted his gaze to the window, determined to pretend that none of that had ever happened.
What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t usually this jumpy. But there was sothing about this guy that made him squirm.
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