Until they found a promising room with two guards outside it.
“Well, love, what’s your plan?”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “I thought I wasn’t in charge anymore?”
He smiled. Even when he was conceding control to her, she still had to argue. “Fine, if you don’t have an idea—”
“Shut up, I do have an idea. I’m going to take them out. Help me get close enough.” She dragged him to her side, hooking her arm through his and then giggling into her hand.
Ah, he knew this ruse. The ‘pretend we’re looking for somewhere to swive but we got lost’ ploy. However, he was hesitant to even pretend amorous intent with Miranda right then.
“Hey,” the guards turned toward them, “You’re not supposed to be up here. Keep all liaisons downstairs.” The guard pointed to direct them away from the room.
“Oh, how embarrassing,” Miranda covered her face quickly, pulling away from Devin dramatically. She was overacting, but it was a charming attempt. “I assure you, I don’t normally do this sort of thing—”
The guard sighed. “Of course, ma’am. I’m sure your intent was entirely innocent. Either way, see that you find yourselves downstairs. These halls are off-limits. How did you even get past—”
Miranda struck like a viper, leaving Devin’s side and striking once for the female guard’s throat, turning her cry into a gargled gasp. In the same motion, Miranda caught the woman by the waist, twisted, and dropped to a knee as she took the guard to the ground.
The second guard only just recovered enough to open his mouth, intending to call for aid, but Miranda unsheathed the woman’s dagger and threw it so the pommel hit him perfectly between the eyes. He collapsed as Miranda rolled and caught the dagger before it could clatter against the polished floor.
The entire attack was over in less than a minute.
Devin’s mouth hung open. Miranda stood and brushed the loose strands of hair from her eyes. She adjusted the ridiculousdress back to its proper place. He knew she was powerful, but when he had joked about her besting him he hadn’t ever truly meant it. Now, he wasn’t sure he’d last two minutes against her. He cleared his throat and adjusted his own clothes, his pants growing uncomfortably constricting.
“Let’s drag them inside so no one sees,” she began to pull one by the ankles and Devin grabbed the other.
Once inside, he locked the door. Turning to the room, he found a stock of brandy and took a quick drink before dousing the guards so that they appeared drunk and not knocked unconscious. The alcohol numbed his Sight, but also worked to ease the unbidden desire that had abruptly flared again—after he had so carefully tempered his lust back when they were downstairs—as he watched her dispatch both guards single-handed.
Miranda was already searching, methodically opening every drawer and examining every shelf. Devin wasn’t convinced they’d find anything of importance that way. Graves wasn’t likely to have anything incriminating where anyone could find it by opening a drawer.
“Nothing,” Miranda snapped, slamming another drawer closed. “This is all the sort of stuff in my father’s study. Just business papers and boring shit. Nothing about experiments or the dead fae.”
Devin searched the room from a distance, remaining in the center as his eyes swept over books and shelves and paintings.
“What are you doing?” She asked, annoyance clear in her tone. “Hello? Are you even looking?”
“Graves is a man of secrets, love. We’re not looking for drawers or folders, we’re looking for a secret compartment or a hidden door.”
“That makes sense.” She returned to searching the desk and he hovered just behind her, this time checking the bottoms andsides of drawers for catches or hinges, calculating the depth to see if it aligned with the outside. After several minutes, Miranda found a latch to a hidden drawer.
“He’ll have a key or secret way to open it,” Devin said, heart pumping a little now that they were on the verge of actual discovery. Being in a place like this, where worse than danger awaited if they were discovered, set him on edge.
“We don’t have time for a key,” she said, jamming her fingers in the seam of the drawer and pulling. It was the hasty option, sure, but now it would be difficult to cover their tracks. The board creaked and snapped open, thankfully not in pieces. It should close smoothly when they finished. Devin pulled his eyes away from the flexing muscles in her arms. She could break him in half.
“Well? Is it what you were looking for?” He insisted, as she lifted a drawing that diagramed the body of a Night Fae. It was a well-drawn figure, but distinctly scientific in nature with thin lines labeling various parts. Except, instead of arm, leg, or hand, it listed powers. Strength. Stamina. Speed. Reflexes. Above the figure was a picture of a single crimson droplet, the only colored part of the drawing.
Devin huffed, irritated. They’d already stayed too long. There was no time to keep looking.
Miranda, however, was silent.
“We can’t linger any longer,” he insisted, nearly taking her by the arm before thinking better of it.
“It’s the Divine’s blood,” Miranda said, voice hollow. “Quick. We can’t take this or he’ll know it’s missing.”
Devin paused. That was impossible. The Divine’s blood wasn’t a tangible thing that existed. It wasn’t bought or made. It only existed in…
Guardians.
