“Koko!” I swatted his bicep, my face heating up. “I can’t think of Papa like that!”
That made him chuckle again as he tossed me into bed, then followed me and waited until I’d kissed Zane’s forehead and Casimir’s cheek before encircling me in his arms, strong and secure.
“Sleep, beloved. I’ve got you. Tomorrow will be better.”
I drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat and the soft, even breathing of my other husbands, surrounded by a love that felt like the most powerful spell of all.
29. Slice Of Steel
Arabesque
Silence filled the farmhouse like a wraith as I entered. I wore it like a second coat, brushing past Foster where he lurked at the edges of my awareness. He could wait. So could the inevitable storm of news he’d been so frantically reporting. For now, I focused on peeling travel-stained gloves from my fingers with slow, deliberate movements.
Control was in the details. Always.
Let him simmer. Let him squirm. When I deemed the silence thick enough to feel, only then would I let him speak.
Finally, a low sigh.
“Tell me.”
“The twins made their move,” he said, tone deliberately casual. “Little surprise: It backfired.”
“Eluned first, yes?”
“Through Ondine Filcher. Don’t know for sure, but she probably got caught.”
I inclined my head, an elegant nod.
“And Amabel?”
“Same thing. No confirmation there, either. Haven’t heard from Eluned since yesterday morning or from Amabel since this morning.”
I watched him with hawk-like intensity, as if my gaze could extract the full truth.
“Caught?”
“Most likely.”
I kept him in my sights for a moment longer, considering. Then, turning slightly, “Your confidence inspires me, wolf.”
He thought I’d yell at him. Thought I’d curse and threaten and rage. What I did instead was let the silence stretch again, a wire pulled tight enough to cut. He’d already reported most of this. Calls and texts vibrating my phone incessantly while I sat in conference with more than a dozen witches, subtly reshaping the map of alliances. All good news from my end, but his panicked updates did not surprise me.
Not really. Perhaps I’dhopedfor a different outcome. Hoped the girls had an ounce of their mother’s talent. No, not hoped.Expected. Yes, that was the right word.
I let my eyes drift over the room. Delicate furnishings, richly polished and old. Wood. Lace. Ticking of a clock so loud, it felt like a pulse.
“Failures,” I murmured. Not a flicker of emotion, not a tremor in my voice.
“What now?” Foster shifted his stance, annoyed and uneasy.
I watched him, shadows stretching as the afternoon sun shifted, painting his dark skin in thin, angular lines.
“Most likely caught.” My voice was a cold slice of steel. “Most likely dead?”
A brief pause, then, “Don’t know for sure, but the Cimmerians aren’t big on mercy.”
“So predictable.” I turned from him as laughter curled from my lips, a sharp, crystalline sound.
