The mage globe dimmed a little. Concentrate, he told himself harshly. Her teasing manner intrigued him, however. There'd been little humor between them thus far.
"Tell me about Cross," Lucien said, shouldering through the small passage. It ended, just as a gaping yawn opened up beneath his feet. The staircase.
"Remy?"
Remy. His fingers actually curled into a fist. Ridiculous, really. It wasn't as though he'd sensed anything between her and the magician, but then, she'd said the Prime had never been her lover... Which left at least two men, somewhere out there.
"What about Remy?"
"How did the two of you meet?"
"He'd advertised in the newspaper for an assistant," Ianthe replied. "We suited each other. He provided me with an income and a way to thumb my nose at my father, and I wasn't frightened of him, unlike the other applicants. Once you've grown up in Grant Martin's household, there's no stare you cannot meet. It had Remy quite perplexed at the start. I think he quite likes people to either be in awe of him or terrified. I was neither." Ianthe considered something. "I'm certain Drake had a hand in my gaining the position too. He wanted to provide me with pin money, once I'd finished my apprenticeship, but I refused."
Lucien glanced back over his shoulder as they reached the lower floor, and held a hand out to help her down the last few stairs. "Why?"
Those fingers were warm. Ianthe stepped past, examining the darkened chamber before them, but she didn't let go of his hand. "When my father threw me out, I had nothing, Lucien. It was an eye-opening experience. By the time Drake set me on my feet, I had vowed that I would never be beholden to another person again. When I finished my apprenticeship, I trusted Drake, but I didn't want to be supported by him. I wanted to be my own person."
"Cross pays so well?" He didn't forget the luxury of her house, or her eminently fashionable wardrobe.
"My aunt left me a small inheritance a few years ago," Ianthe admitted. "It was time to begin thinking of the future, so I bought the house and channeled the remaining funds into investments."
"So you didn't need to work as Cross's assistant anymore? Why continue then, until three months ago?"
"Lucien." Her smile was gentle. "I enjoyed the work. It gave my life some purpose."
"When you're not hunting miscreants for the Prime?"
"Yes, well, there's that."
It seemed somewhat lonely. "You've never considered marriage and children?"
Those pale features froze in a polite expression. "What man would have me? I'm a sorcerer's whore, according to popular opinion, and if I'm honest, why surrender my authority to a man? I am in the unique position of living my life according to my own whims."
"You don't want children?"
She turned away, examining the small cellar room they'd entered. "I don't know whether I would be a good mother."
Something about the softness of her tone drew his eyes. Not the entire truth then. "And your father? How did becoming a magician's assistant help 'thumb your nose at him'?"
"He'd been making noises about taking Drake to court and suing him for destroying my character. The words he painted Drake with were ghastly; a sorcerer preying upon innocent young maids and seducing them to Satan's side. It was ridiculous considering he was the one who threw me out, but a few of my father's friends were muttering about it. So I wanted to put a stop to his plans to paint me as some innocent young girl and Drake as a vile seducer. I sent him front row tickets to my first show from an anonymous source.
"I knew my father would show up. He could never resist a chance to mince around with his social class. So I put on my spangled outfit and stepped on stage, and showed my father what I'd become. He stormed out after the first act, but he was waiting for me in my dressing room." Shadows darkened her eyes. "It's the only time I've seen him since I left his house. It was terrible and confronting, but a part of me exulted. I finally had power over him. I told him that if he continued to make his threats against Drake, then I would tell the world who 'Sabine' was. I threatened to take a lover and flaunt myself to the world as some rich man's mistress. I would ruin him, if I could." Ianthe sighed. "I was younger then, of course."
"You wouldn't do the same now?"
"No. I think I'm weary of making decisions for the sole purpose of striking at my father." A faint Gallic shrug. "Other things seem more important these days. The people in my life who truly care for me, not the ones I was cursed to have the misfortune to belong to originally."
That stung, because whilst she had those people in her life, he had no one. He'd never realized what was missing from his life before she walked into it, but although she was part of the problem, she was not the whole of it. Lucien gazed around the darkened cellar they'd stumbled upon, a bleak scowl upon his face.
"Call it age bringing about a certain amount of wisdom." Ianthe's smile seemed wistful, but then her attention turned to the room below. "Well, this looks... friendly." Ianthe stepped forward, beneath the heavy gothic arches that supported the ceiling, her fingers trailing over one of the massive stone gargoyles that stood watch.
Lucien barely heard what she said. His entire body was still vibrating with the truth that had struck him: he was alone. Not one person gave a damn about him these days. The ache of it struck him right through the heart.
He tried for nonchalance, however, as he didn't want her to notice that aught was amiss. "You cannot be so old as that."
"How old do you think I am?"
Lucien leaned one hand against the arched doorway, considering her from the top of her elegantly coiffed chignon to the tips of her toes. "If you think I'm going to answer that, then you think me a fool. A gentleman never comments on a lady's age."
