I follow him as if I’m going downstairs anyway. “Why were you in her room, though?”
“I helped her back to her room.”
“Did you show her the collection and vault?”
“No.”
Seven a.m. Evander’s not back yet. I could show them... Now I pivot—or try to pivot.
Roark grabs my arm. “She’s sleeping.”
“She went back to bed after breakfast?” I don’t know her, but that doesn’t seem like the woman who fell to her knees in front of the painting in my office. If she hadn’t been tired and slightly inebriated, I believe she would have worked straight through the night.
“Not exactly. Just give her some time. She’ll be up soon. Leopold said he would check on her.” Roark slips into his suite. And I’m left in the corridor.
I’ve got things to do. The Firested clan are rumbling again. But I still have regular work—the urge to grow our hoard is the call that never ends from my dragon.
I’m deep into the numbers when I hear Evander come in. “Have you seen Roark?” he asks.
I glance at my watch. “Damn, five hours ago, now. He ended up going all the way north last night.” Our allies to the north, Nordlyx, aren’t always the most forthcoming.
“Shit—”
“He hasn’t given me a full report yet. He’s sleeping.” I stand, and the painting that’s been in my office for over a decade catches my eye for the first time in years. The colors strike me. How have I never noticed that there are blue tones under the white before?
“Sleeping?”
“Right.”
“When has he ever gone to bed voluntarily?”
I shrug. It’s a long flight, and we’re not dragonets anymore. “What did you find out?”
“Elderglen has spotted some Firested scouts flying in the realm over their territory. But nothing out of the normal. I saw your sister before I came back.”
My eyebrow shoots up. “Aisling wasn’t at the academy?”
“No, she’s home. Your mother pulled her out of classes.”
“Why in theNostrienwould she do that?” I ask.
“The queen hasn’t told her. And won’t see her.”
I scrub my hand down my chin. There’s nothing I can do about it here. My mother is impossible. “I can’t go.”
“Why? Raine? There’s plenty of time to test. We’ve been through, what... how many candidates? She’s lovely, but she can wait. Unless you think she’s the one?” Evander sits on the corner of the desk. We’re both staring at the Monet, talking to it instead of each other. “She smells fucking delicious. My marking heated when I touched her lower back.”
“You touched her? Of course you fucking did.” I turn away to keep from saying something I shouldn’t.
“She’s attractive,” Evander says, not turning.
“She’s fucking stunning. Did you see her ass in the Crest Wing pants?” My cock’s getting hard at the memory.
“Why do you think I had to touch her?”
“Roark touched her, too.”
“Really?”
