It was him.
And Saints help me, I was not sure that was better.
Magic had rules. He did not appear to have any. And I would not—could not—forget the difference.
5
MAV
My rooms hadn’t gotten any bigger since this morning, though it felt different with her here. The space had rearranged itself to make room for something I didn’t fully understand. The tether tugged between us—no more than a nudge, but enough to remind me we were still bound. Still stuck. And yet, for all that, I didn’t mind the sight of her here. Not like I should’ve.
I kicked the door shut behind us. “You can have the bed again.”
“Thank you.”
I shrugged and started untying my boots. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ll regret it the morning after a second night on your spine.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. She crossed to the cot with unhurried grace, steps light enough that the boards barely complained. She lowered herself onto the edge as though the sagging mattress were an intentional design choice, her back perfectly straight despite the dip. One hand smoothed a crease in her gown—small, absent, but it caught my eye. Anyone with eyescould see that Quinn didn’t belong in this place—but she didn’t seem to care. Somehow she made the cot look like a throne, the cracked plaster behind her like some deliberate backdrop.
She was strange like that. Not aloof. Not cold. Just…anchored. Like the world might spin, but she’d keep walking anyway.
I stretched out on the floor, wincing slightly as soreness burrowed into my muscles, and laced my hands behind my head. The ceiling was the same as always—cracked plaster and spiderwebs and a water stain shaped like a broken heart. I’d stared at it a hundred nights, wondering how much longer this roof would hold.
Tonight, I found myself wondering something else entirely. How long would she have stayed if she’d chosen to be here? If her explanation of the spell was to be believed, we had twelve days left of whatever this was. For now, she was here. Real, strange, and entirely out of place in my life. Fidgeting, I realized she was becoming a constant. Something the world had finally decided to give instead of take.
I didn’t trust it.
I didn’t hate it either.
Quinn stood near the washroom door, fingers poised at the edge of her gown, unsure if speaking would break the air between us.
“Is there a place to bathe?” she asked, as politely as if we were in a palace and not a miserable building.
“Disrobing, are we?” I blinked. “Trying to seduce me already?”
She arched one elegant brow and said, “If I were, I would be doing a terrible job of it.”
“Hah!” A laugh barked out of me. “Fair point.” I jerked my chin toward the door behind her. “Washroom’s through there. It’s mostly functional.”
The hint of a smirk formed on her lips. “Much like its owner.”
My mouth fell open. “Was that a joke?”
Her smile broadened.
“My, my, you are full of surprises.” I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly aware of the grit there. “Fair warning, I’m making use of it after you. Worked all day, and the last thing you want is to share a room with me smelling like this.”
She tilted her head, considering. “Perhaps I should let you go first, then.”
“Nah. You’ll be faster.”
One brow arched in challenge. “Do you truly believe that?”
I grinned. “Not at all. But I’ll risk it, princess.”
“I am not a princess.” She moved to open the door, but paused. “Should I wait for you to heat the water?”
I grinned, slow and smug. “Nah. My landlord, Wren, who you had the displeasure of meeting, is a Hearth. Keeps the tanks hot for the whole building. Only decent thing about this place—present company excluded, of course.”
