I’m taking her blush as a seal of approval. Stubble’s staying.
Her throat moves with a swallow. “It’s your face.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have to look at it.Youdo.”
If possible, she grows more uncomfortable, and my ego gets a boost that I’m affecting her.
She clears her throat. “Anyway, Solange usually leaves everything in the drawers and stocks them up when they run empty.”
Aha.“So, that’s your house elf’s name.”
A hairline fracture of a smile touches her lips as I shut the door behind me to give Bastian privacy.
“How are you feeling by the way?”
“Like I faced off with aguivre,” she deadpans.
“That’s funny. I feel the same, exact way.”
“Except you look like you won the fight.”
“And you don’t?” I take the opportunity to slide my gaze down the dark-gray leggings that hug her curves and then back up over the powder-blue sweater that offsets her eyes.
“My legs arecoveredin bruises.”
“You mean, like my face? And hands?” I stretch out my digits. Three of my knuckles are a shade of eggplant-black that really makes the Bloodstone pop. “And torso? Care to see it?”
She lets out a soft snort. “We can compare bruises later.”
“Your offer isn’t falling on deaf ears.”
Her eyes take on a slight shimmer. “It wasn’t an offer.”
“Sounded like one.” I wink, then turn and disappear inside the pink and white powder room, which, at best, is large enough for a six-year-old girl.
I bang my elbows and knees against the walls as I brush my teeth and clean the night off my skin. I try to comb out the reek of cold smoke from my distraught curls, but it lingers. After tossing the used bamboo comb into the small vermeil bin, I pat the mess atop my head with some water until it’s decent enough. Cadence is gone when I finally pop back into the hallway. I open the bedroom door to tell Bastian I’m off to a meeting with my favorite person, then clamber down a flight of stairs.
The study stinks of cigar smoke, and I spy a stub in the crystal ashtray on Rainier’s desk. He sits behind it, thumbing through a manila folder. I catch the words ROLAND ESTATE on the tab. There’s no chair for me to sit in, so I stand across from him, arms crossed. While me looming over him at his desk should make me feel empowered, it doesn’t. Rainier somehow manages to look down his nose at people from the depths of his wheelchair.
“Let’s skip the preamble.” He pushes the folder toward me. “I’ve gotten all your financial records together and relinquished my hold on your accounts. All that’s left for you to do is sign on the dotted line.”
“Thinking I might survive this Quatrefoil gig after all, huh?” I open the file to a page bearing figures with an impressive number of zeroes.
A sigh whistles through his barely parted lips. “Slate, I know you believe me the devil incarnate, but I’m not betting against you.” He leans farther back, the leather squeaking under his cream-colored cashmere turtleneck. “However, once this curse is defeated, I want you gone from Brume.”
“What if I want to stay?”
“Why would you stay?”
To prove to your daughter I’m dependable.“To learn more about my heritage. I mean, if this works, I’ll have magic. I’ll probably need to figure out how to use it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be plenty capable of figuring everything out in Marseille.”
My jaw aches from how hard I’m working it. “Why do you want me gone so badly?”
“You knowexactlywhy.” He doesn’t utter his daughter’s name, yet it dangles in the air between us like the reek of cold smoke.
“What exactly do you think I plan on doing to her?”
