Soon.
We all stand in stillness until we know Nerian has gone. Just the flicker of flame and the hiss of fuel until his footsteps disappear.
And in a blink, Del darts for the darkened cage, ripping the door off.
The whimper from Violet as she crashes into his arms threatens my sanity for the millionth time today.
Ibarge into our suite, the siren barely conscious in my arms.
Second ushers his two girls to the sofa near the fireplace and tosses logs into the hearth, quickly lighting them.
Cradling his doe, Emmanuel carries her toward the roaring warmth, her face hiding in his leathers. My assassin stands before the fire, and I’ve never seen him so still unless he’s about to kill someone. He doesn’t set her down, and it’s a rare moment of tenderness from Em.
I place my siren on the sofa next to Second’s girls, sweeping back the strawberry flame of hair from her emerald eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Sophie,” she slurs, eyelids heavy.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit, Sophie,” I say and ease her back into the cushions.
She curls herself in the corner.
Turned or dead by sunset.
I storm to the window, throw open the steel shutters and then the windowpane, and breathe deeply. My eyes find the stars I memorized long ago, and I trace the pattern in my mind, trying to calm myself with familiarity and soothe insufferable frustration.
“He plays with us because he plans to kill us,” Second says grimly. “There’s no doubt there. We’re not intended to walk away with this knowledge.”
“Obviously,” Charlotte replies, coming to stand beside me, her arm snaking my waist. I lean my head against her shoulder.
The suite door kicks open, and we whip around.
Del marches into our suite, Violet passed out in his arms. He lays her on the settee and beckons me with a jerk of his chin toward my room.
“We need to have a conversation,” he says, face tight above his perfect suit.
I narrow my eyes at the male.
Yes, we do.
I sweep past him into my bedchamber, and his footsteps follow.
We face each other at opposite ends as the door thuds closed. The space between us feels like a battlefield to cross, but I’m unsure if this male is my enemy or my ally.
Curbing my temper, I start with a reasonable question. “Who is Violet to you?”
“Her nameisn’tViolet,” Del growls. “The king names them after their eyes.”
I swallow my disgust. “Understood. What is her name, and who is she to you, Del?”
His eyes meet mine, and after a breath, his shoulders droop. “Her name is Aurelia, and she’s my great-granddaughter.”
Which means he had a child when he was human, however long ago that was.Gods.
“Does the king know that?”
He shakes his head.
