The room had an adjoining dressing room, with a tub set up for privacy. There was a door that would, hopefully, keep him from waking Miranda. In the main room, aside from the large poster bed with heavy drapes, was a fireplace and some furniture. A chaise lounge sat at the foot of the bed in lush velvets and awful oversaturated pink.
Once clean and dressed in fresh clothes—he’d had a collection of his things stored here, mostly for when he’d spilled too much drink while half-asleep, but this was an undeniable improvement—he settled in one of the fine armchairs near a small bookcase. The food was wheeled in on a cart and Devin thanked the servant as they shut the door and the room returned to a peaceful silence. A moment. A quiet moment.
Devin devoured the first plate of pastries. He wasn’t a morning person, certainly, and once his basic needs had been met he’d waited for Miranda to wake.
He had intended to allow himself the moment to think, but he ended up drifting into a heavy sleep upright in the armchair. The sound of Miranda waking, her body stirring and her breathing altered, had his head jolting out of an impossible angle against the plush backing. He checked the clock, it was approaching evening and his…everything hurt.
He stretched and rotated his arms to ease out the kinks in his muscles. While Miranda rolled to look for him, her hand reaching out among the sea of sheets, he quickly rang on the bell to signal he was ready for fresh food and warm water in the bath. He thought he’d never get used to having others serve him, but he couldn’t deny that right now, it was immensely convenient. It meant he didn’t have to leave her.
His movement drew her attention and she sighed, like she had expected him to cut and run on her. Then her eyes landed on the table.
“Is that food?”
“Yes, but I’ve sent for fresh—”
She leapt from the bed, completely bare, the blankets fluttering forgotten in her wake. She bit into a scone. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
He raised an eyebrow, because there was no way a half stale, cold scone was that delicious. But she scarfed it down and was already on to the next.
“I’ve got to start remembering to eat,” she groaned, crumbs littering the table like the carnage of battle. “How long have you been up? You’re already dressed and smell good.”
“There’s a bath waiting for you, too.”
She squealed in a delighted, girly pitch and raced for the adjoining chamber. Devin did consider following her, but hehesitated. She deserved a relaxing bath after everything and if he went in there, he’d start touching her, and then kissing her, and shit, he was already hard at the idea of stripping down and joining her.
Instead, he closed his eyes. He could hear her slipping into the water, the contented sigh, the gentle lap of water as she adjusted her limbs.
He closed the adjoining door, but his hearing was no longer inhibited by drink and he couldn’t trick his lust into thinking an unlocked door was an adequate barrier.
That wasn’t going to work either.
The only way Miranda would be able to bathe in peace was if he left temptation entirely. Devin intended to take a brisk walk down the stairs and back up. Twice.
Only, the door was already wide open. A servant would have closed it and the tray was still full of half-eaten food.
A gut feeling of warning was the only thing that saved him from being speared from behind. A blade sank into the armchair instead.
Devin whirled around and cold, Divine fear rooted him in place.
Yarrow Graves loomed as if he were another fixture of the room, positioned between Devin and the adjoining room with Miranda. He did not dare glance at the adjoining door and risk drawing Graves’s attention, but reaching it first was his only priority.
“You didn’t think I was going to let this go that easily, did you?” Graves’s voice was full of venom, dripping with malice. He made no show to hide his intentions. There was no one left who would believe the performance anyway. A void of ebony oozed around Graves’s form. The color of cold-blooded evil intent. “No, no, no. You and that fucking cunt have stolen my victory. I havenothing.Nothing. As soon as I’m done with the pair of you, I have to leave Unity for good.”
Devin didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
He only cared about getting to Miranda first. He was calculating the quickest path and possibly distraction, when a single enforcer materialized beside Graves from the shadows.
This one didn’t bother with the cowl and mask. A Night Fae with pale, almost grey skin and eyes. Then, his form shimmered and once again he was little more than a shadow. It had to be the reason they were able to get this far without drawing attention. Some Night Fae could cloak themselves, a trick with light that rendered them invisible. But now that Devin knew he was there, it was easier to detect the shimmer. Even the man’s aura was concealed by the illusion.
The shimmer walked to the chair and, even though he was not built any different than Devin—on the leaner side even for fae—when he pulled on his weapon, he took the entire chair with it, tossing it free with a flick of his wrist so the once solid piece of furniture thudded against the wall.
“Devin?” Miranda.
His heart squeezed.
“Oh, is she here?” Graves’s laugh was manic, terrifying. “How fortuitous that I get to kill two pesky, annoying little birds with one stone.”
“Avery, if you please.”
