My fingers close roughly over the disc, and the ring ignites. “Where do you want it?”
“Top shelf. Behind the stacks of bills.”
I all but chuck the leaf inside, wiping my hands on my jeans to get rid of the clinging heat. I’m so agitated I don’t even try to swipe some bills, which honestly, would be damn easy. They’re just sitting there for the taking. Pfff. Probably on purpose. Probably some kind of test.
“How will we know it’s mine once all four are in there?”
“There are four shelves, Roland.” Rainier points to the safe. “Besides, it won’t matter anymore. As soon as the Quatrefoil comes together, the leaves won’t be cursing anyone. They’ll be funneling magic back inside the four of you . . . and the world.”
Not entirely reassured, I back up so that he can close the safe. “When am I getting my inheritance again, De Morel?”
His hand slips as he’s pushing the safe shut, and it slams with a loud thud. The timeworn scroll on the wall shudders from the impact.
“After the new moon, I’ll sign it over to you.”
“Might not serve me much by then.”
Rainier concentrates on closing the fake filing cabinet.
“Look, it’s not like I need it right now, but if the others aren’t successful”—I palm the back of my neck but wince when my fingers hit my huge-ass Band-Aid. I tow my hand back down—“I want all of it to go to someone . . . a friend.”
Rainier angles his wheelchair toward me. “I’ll draw up the papers tomorrow.”
I have to admit I’m a little surprised he’s being so agreeable about this. Maybe I’ve somehow proved my worth.
“Good night, Roland.”
I nod and head for the door.
“And Cadence is off limits. Don’t make me regret allowing you to spend the night.”
I look over my shoulder and salute him, my index and middle fingers bumping into the lump on my forehead. “You got it, old man.”
He shoots me a glare on par with the water fairy’s once she realized I wasn’t under her charm. As I take the stairs toward my borrowed bedroom on the second floor, I yawn long and hard. Even if I was going to seduce Cadence, I wouldn’t pick tonight. I’m way too beat, broken, and bruised.
I push my bedroom door open, then kick it closed, my fingers working the buttons on my shirt. On my way to the bathroom, I fling the soiled white material over the back of the armchair, then start on my jeans. I open the bathroom door, and a shriek rids me of several decibels of hearing.
Shit.I forgot this was a shared space.
24
Cadence
“Get out!” I yell at Slate, who’s just standing there, eyes planted on the towel I whipped off the chrome rack and wedged around my body at record speed.
Thankfully, I was still wearing a bra and my underwear when he barged into the bathroom, and thankfully, neither were particularly revealing.
According to Alma, I should be wearing thongs and pushups at all times—the key to being sexy is feeling sexy. Even though I own some nice lingerie, I don’t see the point of wearing it, since no one can actually see them underneath my layers of wintry clothing.
“Don’t the doors lock?” He asks this as though it’s somehow my fault.
“I don’t usually have to share my bathroom.”
The shower’s running, and steam curls over the edge of the glass door.
“Can you leave?”
“I can.” He doesn’t, though. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.
