So it was exactly what she’d thought. Her once street-hardened uncle thought he could handle Antonin on his own and paid the price for it. Petra really couldn’t say whether it was better or worse to know that.
“But let’s not dwell on something so negative!” Antonin lifted his glass and tipped it toward her. “Tonight is for celebration, mydear! After all, we’ll be bonded by tomorrow morning. If we’re truly blessed by our goddess, you might even be pregnant.”
An electric current ran down her spine, jolting her out of her haze. “Tomorrow morning?”
Swallowing a sip that stained the inner part of his lips burgundy, he answered, “Of course. Tonight you’ll bond with me and we’ll try for that heir. Tomorrow we’ll announce our engagement and begin planning our wedding. I’ve got business to attend to in the city, so there’s no rush there. You should have at least a few weeks to get everything in order.”
“I… didn’t realize you wanted my bond tonight.”
“Why wait?” He gave her a slow, sultry smile. “In fact, I’ll have your bond as soon as we finish dessert. You’ll do it here, now, and then we’ll head back to my suite.”
She wasn’t sure why she was fishing for excuses, knowing that there was no good outcome for herself either way and that she was only there to buy Silas time. Still she asked, “I’ve heard the bond can take a toll on the body. Are you sure we should do it here? What if you?—”
Antonin waved a hand dismissively. “Only the weak and magicless suffer when the bond is forged. I’ll be fine.” He gestured for her to pick up her glass. She did so under automation. Clinking their glasses together, he toasted, “To Glory’s own rising star — my bride. Let’s conquer this world, my dear.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
He couldn’t sayhe felt bad for calling Petra dramatic, but hecouldadmit that he underestimated how fucked up the heart of Glory’s Temple was.
Silas knew it was corrupt because all institutions were. He knew the higher-ups were liars because everyone was. He knew they had a history of blackmail, indoctrination of gifted children, and much more because… well, that shit was all in the history books.
After all he’d seen and done in his long criminal career, Silas thought he was unshockable. Turns out he was wrong.
A dead, red-clad guard stared up at him with glassy eyes. He was sprawled on the floor, disabled by one of Silas’s nastier wards when he made the mistake of checking on a mysterious noise in the sparkling, freshly renovated bathroom. The ward hadn’t been his cause of death — not technically, anyway. Neither was it Silas’s boot, which had come down hard on his windpipe as soon as he stumbled to the ground.
No, his demise came from a beautifully woven mesh of magic draped over his mind. One that, once disabled by Silas’s own ward, had set off a cascade effect that terminated in what he could only speculate was an aneurysm.
Whether that was an intentional design or simply bad luck, Silas couldn’t say.
“Damn,” he muttered, peeling his boot off the guard’s throat. He didn’t like dealing with brainwashed folks. It grossed him out about as much as m-siphons did. Yes, it was a quick way to get things done, but where was the art in it? Theskill?
Besides the fact that it was just lazy, it was also prone to failure. The guard was a perfect example. The mind could only take so much pressure, so much fiddling, before it became as fragile as an eggshell — a bad trait to have in a henchman.
Sighing, Silas stooped to drag the body across the bathroom floor and into the brand new bathtub. Normally he didn’t care about leaving a mess, but this was Petra’s territory and he didn’t want to complicate her lifetoomuch.
Thinking of her made him even more restless and agitated. Now that he knew he was dealing with a man who carted around carloads of armed and brainwashed guards, he enjoyed the thought of her out there entertaining Antonin for most of the day even less than he had before.
The only thing that stopped him from abandoning his plan for Vanderpoel’s suite was the knowledge that she was safely locked away in her closet, guarded by Tal. For all his warnings and complaints, Tal would look after Petra with all the ferocity of Silas himself.
Mostly. Tal wouldn’t set fire to this city for her. I would.
It was a struggle to put her out of his mind for most of the day as he set up his wards in the Protector’s suite well ahead of his arrival. It was a new and humbling form of torture to force himself to sit in the alley that the Protector’s bathroom window opened up into, waiting, knowing that Petra was out front facing the man himself.
He considered spiriting her away before Antonin arrived, but that was an instinctive urge, not a logical one. Petra was right inthat she was a perfect distraction, and killing the man would be much easier if he wasn’t already on his guard due to a missing High Priestess.
So as much as it went against something deeply fundamental, Silas let her greet the Protector and, according to the flat updates passed between the guards he heard moving in and out of the suite, give him a tour.
He drew the line at dinner, though. Not just because it was objectively too risky,especiallynow that he knew the man brainwashed his guards, but because the jealous, possessive monster in him simply couldn’t abide the thought of her sharing a private meal with a man who wanted her.
Silas had been sure of that before, but after a quick scan of the belongings his entourage had unpacked and set about the suite, he was absolutely certain of it.
Luxury women’s bathing products had been placed alongside the Protector’s shaving kit, the bottles new and unopened. Two robes, one small enough to fit his witch and one slightly larger were carefully hung on hooks on the other side of the bathroom door. When he stalked into the bedroom, he found the bed sheets turned down.
Both nightstands held covered glasses of water, and at the foot of the bed was a sheer negligee in deep crimson, just the right size forhiswitch.
Silas’s stomach turned. When it settled back into position, it began to fill with the liquid fire of pure fury.
Clearly the man expected dinner to go well. It was just too bad for him that Petra wouldn’t be sleeping in anyone’s bed besides Silas’s — and also that she wouldn’t be making their date. She was safely locked away in a closet and guarded by one very determined wraith.
