We crest the landing and join Vallan as he turns and marches down the red-carpeted corridor. Watching Vallan’s sturdy frame in front of us, I’m momentarily drawn to his muscled shoulders and back, which I fondly recall raking my nails down early yesterday evening when he took me in the hills near his silver mine.
And Garroway callsmean animal.
To my right, a golden railing looks down to the wide ballroom of the palatial mansion. I tap the rail with my fingernails. “I don’t work on Lord Ashfen’s schedule.”
Vallan grunts. “Tell that to him yourself.”
“I plan to.”
“Plan to tell me what?”
I spin with a nervous gasp to the open door on my left, where Skartovius Ashfen waits in all his brooding glory. His red-gold cloak is affixed to his broad shoulders, his angular face poisoned, eyes staring down his thin nose at our group as we take up the doorway.
My mouth moves but doesn’t work. Shamefully, I stammer, landing on, “S-Sorry we’re late!”
He purses his lips, eyes narrowing on me. “If our revolution is going to succeed, I’ll need assurances of your reliability to the cause, little temptress. You can’t just fuck the nights away when we have work to do.”
“You’re the one who said we have some time before Alacine strikes, after your daring rescue.” I flare my nostrils, angry he would accusemeof being disloyal. If that’s what he’s doing. “Since I announced my devotion to your bloody cause, and became Queen of Manor Marquin, I’ve never strayed, Skar. You know that.”
I assume his frustration stems from being separated from me and his thrall, rather than any honest doubt he has about my allegiance, so I let the issue die there.Or perhaps something has happened in the past evening to rankle him.
He waves us into the small chamber, which is decorated with shelves and ornate ledgers and scrolls. A small table sits in the middle with a map strewn across it, no seats within sight.
“The study room?” Vallan asks. “I expected the conference room.”
“Servants go in and out of the conference room, brother,” Skar explains, taking his place along the table. “We don’t want any ears listening to our conversation, especially if there’s a traitor in our midst, aye?”
Vallan gives a customary grunt of approval. Or disapproval. Impossible to tell with the surly man.
Garroway says, “I’m more concerned you have no chairs for us.”
Vallan and Skar give him skeptical looks.
“His legs are tired,” I explain, patting the half-blood on the shoulders.
“I apologize if your frailty is exposed having to stand for another half hour, graybird,” Skar murmurs.
I catch the slight curve of his delectable lips, showing he’s only half-serious.Good, then he’s not truly angry with our tardiness.
Garroway shrugs away the insult. “I need to work out certain muscles I’ve never trained before, it appears.” When he finishes,he glances over at me with one of his smug, jesting smirks, and it makes my face grow warm all over again.
“Enough.” Vallan thumps his fist on the map. “Let us commence this meeting, brother.”
Skartovius nods. “Quite good. At leastsomeonecan stay focused.”
“Big words coming from the man who claimed me in the middle of the desert surrounded by his workers,” I cut in, glaring at Vallan with a roguish glint in my eyes. He always brings out the most forward, bratty version of me.
Skar raises a brow at the man he calls “brother.”
“The bodies were buried well enough,” Vall quips.
“Hours late,” I shoot back.
“If I recall correctly,” Vallan says, stroking his beard, “it wasyouwho attackedmein the dead of night, swords drawn.”
Garro looks aghast. “Youwhat, little honey—”
“It was a joke!” I whine.
