"That's not how guilds work."
"It's how this one's going to work." I'm already planning—meal schedules, room assignments, maybe even a rotation for who helps with cooking. "We're doing this differently."
"We?"
"We." I kiss him, quick and light. "Now sleep. I have twenty-seven new people to feed and domesticate."
"They're killers, not cats."
"Same principle. Food, shelter, and clear boundaries. Maybe some enrichment activities."
"Enrichment activities."
"Cooking lessons, perhaps. Maybe gardening. Oh! We have that garden space. We could grow vegetables!"
He's laughing again, that rusty sound that means he's actually happy.
"Fine," he says. "Domesticate my guild. Teach them about vegetables. Just... be careful."
"I'm always careful."
"You literally tried to pet my shadows the first time you saw them."
"They looked lonely."
He kisses me again, thorough and possessive, then finally closes his eyes. "Wake me if anyone else tries to stab you."
"I make no promises."
But he's already drifting off, exhaustion finally winning. His shadows stay wrapped around me though, warm and protective. Some pool near my injured arm.
I lie there for a while, listening to him breathe, thinking about how strange life is. A month ago I was painting portraits for people who didn't pay full price. Now I'm in bed with the Shadow King, planning to domesticate his newly expanded criminal empire through strategic meal planning.
My arm throbs, reminding me of this morning's violence. He killed her without hesitation. For me. The thought should terrify me but instead makes me feel... safe? Valued? Something important that has nothing to do with being useful?
"Sleep," I whisper to him, though he's already under. "I'll handle everything."
His shadows pulse warm.
Time to make lunch. And maybe those introductions. And definitely check if anyone knows how to get blood out of wallpaper.
After all, someone has to manage this disaster, and apparently that someone is me.
Chapter 22
Yarrow has a tooth hanging by not much, and I'm trying to figure out if I should heal it or just pull it out while he's bleeding on my clean floors.
"He called you a light whore," Yarrow says through the blood, which explains why Vetch's nose is now pointing the wrong way. "So I hit him."
"That was very protective but unnecessary." I press my fingers to his jaw, letting warmth flow into the damage. The tooth reattaches with a little pop that makes everyone wince. My hands are already shaking—too much healing yesterday, not enough sleep. "Vetch, come here. Your nose needs setting before it heals wrong."
"I don't need—"
"You absolutely need. It's pointing at your ear." I'm already reaching for him, and he backs up. "Oh for heaven's sake, I'm trying to help. Do you want to breathe through one nostril forever?"
The training room smells like sweat and blood. Someone's already cracked the mirrors. The floor's going to need mopping. With cold water for the blood, not hot. Five in the morning and they're already beating each other up. At least twelve people are watching from the edges, Shadow Guild on one side, former Copper Hands on the other.
"This is about the morning training slots, isn't it?" I set Vetch's nose with a quick motion that makes him yelp. Lightflows before he can pull away. "We have a schedule. I made a schedule. It's color-coded."
