Good. The smell you all left in here is bad enough.
I gritted my teeth to keep from retorting.
“Midnight is still an hour away,” Garrick said.
He’d made it to the edge of the bed, where he watched Isanara and me. He’d learned to keep his distance. Syleris was still fully reclined, arms propped behind his head, in his full, spectacular glory. Miles of hard, olive skin gleaming in the firelight.
“Come back to bed, sweetling,” he purred.
If you take one more step toward that bed, I will set it on fire.
I pursed my lips in Isanara’s direction.You don’t breathe fire.
Try me.
I cleared my throat but kept my feet firmly on the floor. In truth, I did not trust myself to go to where my gown lay beside the bed without succumbing to Syleris’ invitation and falling into it.
“My familiar desires her privacy.”
That is not what I said.
You are being argumentative just for the sake of it.
Fine. You stay. I will leave.
She unfurled to her feet, snapping her tail side to side with the force of a whip. The window was still wide open, but she pointed her snout toward the left side of the fireplace instead, into the corner between the hearth and the wardrobe.
Isanara, that isn’t necessary.
“She is arguing with her familiar,” Garrick said to Syleris. It sounded like he was pulling on his trousers.
“I am familiar with what she looks like when holding a conversation in her head,” Syleris scoffed. “Come back to bed, halfling. This is between them.”
I shut the pair of them out. Never entirely. I doubted it was possible. But they could take care of each other just now.
Isanara, please talk to me.
She hissed, spinning suddenly. But the space between the hearth, wardrobe, and wingback chair was too tight, and she was too big. For once, we were not in sync. My foot caught in the rip her talon had slashed into the hearthrug.
She tried to catch me. Even angry, she would not let me hurt myself if she could help it. But she couldn’t. The force of my forward momentum was too great, and the angle was wrong.
She flung herself sideways into the wall so that I wouldn’t fall on top of her. I hit the ground hard, my knees and elbow screaming where they collided with the uncovered brick floor.
“Koryn!”
Man and god rushed across the room. I was too busy cursing under my breath to know who made it first. Both of their hands were on me—one bracing my hip, the other my forearm. I shook them both off. That obviously did not work.
“Bricks are better than dragon spikes,” I said, swatting their hands away. My knees hurt, and I thought I scented blood—my elbow, maybe. But I could stand unassisted. For now.
Isanara had thrown herself sideways into the wall to avoid impaling me on the spikes that lined her back. She should have left thick gauges in the brick wall.
But she hadn’t. She’d torn down the thing entirely. The wall had crumbled because it was not made of brick at all. It was wood—a wooden door, well-painted and maybe even enchanted to blend into the wall.
With the door destroyed, wood splintered and hanging off its hinges, the mess behind was visible. Itwasa mess. Heaps and piles and scattered debris. And every single bit of it gleamed or glittered.
“Isanara… what is this?” I said aloud. My mind was too overwhelmed to contain the words.
Assured that I had no lasting injuries, she scampered over the threshold into the room, the size of a large closet. Maybe it had been a closet at one point. But now…
