Kieran’s gaze caught the man hovering just beyond her shoulder. Lord Devin Drake, if he wasn’t mistaken. The notorious half-fae who inherited his human father’s estate quite out of the blue.
“A friend of yours?” Kieran asked, attempting levity, yet there was unmistakable derision in his tone. He was asking out of habit, more than anything, and most of his focus was on searching for his escort.
“Oh!” She nodded, then pulled Lord Drake to her side, then pushed him away quickly. Odd. He couldn’t care less about their level of association. She could have introduced him as her sex slave and he’d not have batted an eye. “This is Lord Devin Drake. A friend. We’re just leaving.”
“Very well,” he replied, almost amused. And, if Kieran recalled correctly, these two had drawn quite a few stares during Miss Wilde’s sister’s engagement ball.
Though Kieran mingled in largely human circles—the Ring and Parliament were located in the heart of the Garrison, after all—he still didn’t hold much stock in their inane social constructs. But he did know that whatever Miss Wilde and LordDrake were up to, it would not be considered proper by the aforementioned constructs. Seems Miss Wilde took after her sister, consorting with fae while she was a guardian. A positive sign that divides between the races were starting to thin, at least when it came to sex and relationships. Which was hardly surprising. All races seemed to share a preoccupation with sexual activities and romance.
Ready to be done with the conversation, Kieran straightened and set his arms behind his back. “Please give my congratulations to your sister on her happy nuptials or whatever the phrase.” He intended to leave it at that, but Miss Wilde reacted like he had just congratulated her sister’s untimely demise.
“What?”
Bother. He resisted the urge to glance at the clock. How long had he been talking, now? “We’re expected to wish others well in marital endeavors, no? I’ve assumed wrong before.” He shrugged.
“No, no, it’s… Cordelia isn’tmarried. Nothing was planned until months from now.”
“Strange. I read only just this morning that the pair eloped.”And I do not give a shit. Kindly, move along now.
“She… what?”
Gods above.
He shifted his shoulders, the only sign of his frustration. “Elopement. The announcement was in the papers this morning. I don’t forget and I’m rarely wrong. Though, I’m surprised you weren’t aware, as her sister. Perhaps,” He looked at Lord Drake, praying that embarrassment ended this conversation. “A long night has kept you from your family?”
“I…” She stumbled, falling into Lord Drake’s side.
Honestly.
“Thanks. North, was it?” Drake interjected, holding Miss Wilde upright. “It’s been a pleasure, but I think I’d better see the lady home now.” As the pair retreated, Kieran got the sense that he had just revealed something rather significant. His interest lasted about as long as it took for them to hasten out the door.
“Mr. North? You’re to follow me please.” A stocky officer with green tinting the skin near his forehead and ears, held the gate used to keep civilians from entering the main work floor.
Finally.
Kieran followed the officer through the bullpen, deftly weaving through the chaotic thrum of activity as night shifted to morning. They proceeded toward the holding cells, down a few short flights of stairs, until they were at ground level where a section of concrete blocks with barred doors lined the outer wall of the building. There was open space in front of the cells and several desks along the far wall.
Inside one of the cells, sat Miss Blair, her full painted lips pouting and a hand on her chin, elbow balanced on her knee.
She looked bored. No signs of distress.
The stairs were at a slight angle to the cells. She didn't seem to notice him as he descended. He kept to the outer edge of the room, until he could no longer see inside the cells and hopefully not give away his presence until he got to the bottom of whatever had caused her distress. The officer Kieran recognized from his bedchamber sat at one of the desks, scribbling away at a stack of papers.
“Officer Kent, I believe,” Kieran said, swooping in and startling the officer into fumbling the word he’d been writing.
“Goodness. Mr. North, I thought you changed your mind about coming in.” Kieran glanced at the clock. They must have arrived at least an hour ago, at this point.
“Just delayed,” he replied. “May I see the report?”
“Oh, that’s not really how we do thing—”
Kieran snatched the sheets already filled in. Seraphina Blair. A human woman, which he had already guessed. Thirty-four, though she appeared younger. No mention of previous records. Seeing her surname written out, Kieran tried to place where he had heard it before as he returned the pages to the desk.
“Sera.” An officer with blonde hair stopped in front of Miss Blair’s cell. Though there was familiarity in the tone, it was more scolding than concerned. The Blonde Officer crossed her arms as Miss Blair moved to lean on the bars.
“Hey, Rachel.” Miss Blair had removed her wool coat, now that they were in warmer territory, to reveal a dress that suited her coloring perfectly. A deep teal that at once contrasted her pale skin and complemented her dark hair and eyes. Though she lacked a few layers to be fashionable, it was a suitable enough ensemble for a well-bred lady.
Yet her manners, posture, and speech all denoted an upbringing of a lower tier. The Fells, if he had to guess. Kieran sat at one of the empty desks, unnoticed for the moment. It was an odd dichotomy that he either went overlooked entirely or commanded the entire room.
