Somehow, Devin managed to make it back to a friendly encampment, but he couldn’t remember exactly how. And Graves spun the tale of that battle with his own narrative, one that painted him the hero who had done all he could to save his unit. The survivors were threatened and bribed for their silence. Devin included. Now, no one would believe him even though Graves had lost his leverage.
Graves needed the sort of justice he couldn’t escape from. Permanent.
Devin released his clenched fists.
“Sir,” a footman’s voice sounded far away, but when Devin opened his eyes, the man was just in front of him, “So glad you’re awake, sir. There’s a woman here to see you, quite insistent, butI thought you’d prefer to get cleaned up first? At the very least, not to be found in…such a state.”
Devin sat up, groaning a bit as his head spun. How long had he laid in that position? It left a terrible crick in his neck. When he managed to look at the footman, he instantly noted the glow surrounding him. An eager, grass green with touches of resilient amber and loyal plum. Devin had never had to decipher auras, always understood them intuitively. And he needed a drink.
Whoever was looking for him, it could wait till he had a drink. “Give me ten minutes,” Devin murmured.
Wait…she?His heart stopped.
“Very good, sir. I’ll send her—”
“Devin?”
The footman turned, startled and ready to shoo the person back to the door. But a blaze of color forced past the younger man. Her voice was equal parts thrilling and maddening.
What was she doing here?
She was here.
Before anyone could stop her, Miranda had pushed her way into the sitting room. It was the first time he’d ever seen her without the buffer of inebriation.
Miranda stood with her hair down, blonde waves swirling around her shoulders in brilliant contrast to the warmer tones in her skin. A modest dress hugged her curves, not even a cloak to cover her shoulders, as if she had rushed out in the first and simplest ensemble she could find. And the light coming from her was a proud and determined cerulean that traced her outline in a thin, but solid pattern. Surrounding the blue was a blaze of ruby passion and adventurous tangerine that erupted into the darkness of his apartment. Her aura was loud. Overpowering.
She was gorgeous.
“Devin.” She ran to him and looked ready to hug him, but hesitated. A flash of doubt surged through the stronger colors of her personality. “I…”
“What are you doing here?” He asked, accusation feathering his words. He was elated that she was here. Giddy. But he was furious with her for leaving the safety of her home when Graves could retaliate at any time. Agonized that no matter what she was here for hecould not touch her. His fingers itched to touch her. But he couldn’t risk what it might lead to…his breathing grew ragged, desperate.What would it lead to?
“I had to make sure you were okay. I tried your…other house first, but when you weren’t there I knew you’d be here,” she started, innocently and naively sincere. “I hated leaving you with my father like that.”
Devin looked away. The colors of her, the way they burned bright around her was proving too much for him. He desperately needed a drink so he could concentrate again.
“Your father did me a favor, though I’m not sure if he realized it or not.” Devin crossed to a cupboard and threw it open, searching for a bottle that wasn’t empty.
He pulled one free and yanked out the cork with his teeth. After a healthy swig—only enough to dull the colors of Miranda, rather than snuff them—he said, “Much better. Now. I appreciate the concern, love, but you shouldn’t be here. And I think we both know it.”
“I shall see her to the door, sir,” the footman offered and went to gently guide Miranda, but she spun from his grip. The footman wisely made himself scarce. Devin almost ordered him to stay as a chaperone, if he thought it would help.
“No, I won’t be escorted away like this is some unwanted social call. We have to discuss what happened.”
“No, darling, we really don’t.”
“And you have a drinking problem, by the way,” she yelled.
Devin’s jaw hardened. “Yes, I’m well aware of my problems. Unfortunately, it’s the only way I can pretend I’m not some abomination looked upon with either pity or disdain.”
That gave her pause. “I don’t…”
“You don’t what? Look at me with pity for being a half-fae bastard? You may not realize it, Mira, but others do. I know people like your father like to think this city is built on tolerance, but I assure you, those of us that test that tolerance know the truth. People will never accept those that are different. They’re too scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Miranda said, chin in the air. She was so sheltered, yet wanting so badly to be noble, it was almost charming. Except, it also hurt. “I don’t look at you any different. I commented about the drinking because I don’t want to see you hurting yourself.”
“So, you’d be okay being seen with me in public? Fine with the looks? With the whispered comments? Content with losing valuable social alliances because you chose to associate with the notorious bastard who should never have been a lord in the first place? What happened at the ball was merely a taste of the ruin you’d face, and that’s not even commenting on the dangers of you being here in the middle of the night.”
