“Calamities, that’s what she causes, and that’s what she is,” helpful Hart supplies. I’ve been called way worse, so if he thinks this is going to upset me, he is sorely mistaken.
“If there are buckets nearby, then it must be a regular occurrence? If you think about it, it is rather irresponsible to have giant swathes of fabric next to open flames. I’m sure there are at least four fires every diurnal.”
“No fires until you arrived,” Malachi tells me as we start up some stairs, which I think look familiar. Who am I kidding? This place is a tangled web of stone hallways, combustible curtains, and indistinguishable doors.
“There were no overdosed princes either,” Hart adds.
“You would be so much more likable if you didn’t talk,” I snark.
“And you would be more likable if you went back to your Burgher town.” He cuts a glance at me. “I’m out.” He turns and trots back down the stairs, leaving me alone with the nicer Stirlings.
“Couldn’t handle the heat,” I mutter, turning right at the top of the stairs. Theo’s hands land on my shoulders and he spins me the other way. “I was so sure it was that way.”
“I do not know how you survived this many annuses,” Theo says, ushering me down the corridor with Malachi.
We arrive outside a familiar-looking door and I push it open. The man in the mirror appears immediately. “Oh, thou art as wise as thy art fair,” he starts. Now I know he’s lying.
Theo and Malachi push into the chamber and start snooping around. I fold my arms and watch as they unfasten the potato sacks. Malachi pulls out a small iron pan Gwyneth must have stowed inside.
“Weapons?” he asks.
“Don’t be a silly bunkum, that’s a pan. Have you never seen one before?” I flop onto the bed. “Idols in Blazes, did you never learn to cook for yourselves? Blessed Hallowed and their crazy ways. I would be more likely to survive in the wilds of So Far Away than you two mellows.”
“Who are you calling a mellow?” Theo asks, standing taller. Damn, there is nothing mellow about him. Not those green eyes, nor those rippling muscles beneath his shirt, and definitely not his strong thighs under his breaches. He is the opposite of mellow. He’s anti-mellow.
“That’s not a word,” Theo growls. “And if you keep looking at me like that, I can show you how anti-mellow I can be.”
My eyes widen as the brothers stop their nosing around and come closer. “A word is only a word if enough people use it. I used it, now you used it—meaning it is now a word.”
“What in Blazes goes on in that head of yours?” Malachi says, leaning down to look into my eyes. Up close, he’s not just shiny, he’s beautiful.
A grin spreads across his face as his eyes drop to my mouth. “Thank you, Daphne.” I want him to kiss me so badly I can hardly stand it. In fact, I can’t stand it at all. I jerk my head up and slam our lips together. His eyes grow wide, then close, and his warm mouth explores mine. This is no ordinary kiss. It’s one born of wicked thoughts and naughty deeds. It plucks the stars from the sundown and scatters them in a fine mist all around us. My world narrows to this one point in time.
“Let her breathe,” Theo mutters from behind me as he sweeps my hair over my shoulder, his tongue tracing the curve of my neck. No breathing, I’m good here. I don’t need it.
My hands bury into Malachi’s hair and I hold him against me, reassuring him breathing is for mellow people. We could see to it later.
The door bursts open, making me break away from Malachi’s lips. Gwyneth scrambles into the room, her hair disheveled and her clothes slightly rumpled. She frowns at me.
“What are you doing with my sister?” she snaps. “I asked you to see her back here safely, not take advantage of her.”
“In all fairness, she kissed me first,” Malachi says, standing tall. Theo moves around the bed next to him and rubs the back of his neck while he looks on at Gwyneth like a scolded child.
“That’s true,” I mutter.
“And we were just going to leave her here,” Theo adds. “But on the way back, she managed to be attacked by an immovable bush, break a window, and start a fire. We were concerned for her safety.”
Gwyneth doesn’t even look surprised. Why would she be? That was a tame list to the normal diurnal. Like I said earlier—nobody died. That was a win. Unless…
“Did Charming die?” I blurt out.
She closes the door and pinches her nose. “No, Daph, he’s fine. I’m a little psychologically scarred from making sure the palace thinks a fun night happened. But I am unscathed physically.”
“Excellent,” I declare, shooting up from the bed. “A little psychological trauma hurt no one, and my sister is here now.” I push on the backs of the Stirling brothers. Gwyneth opens the door and they squeeze out into the corridor. They both blink at me like they can’t believe a maiden would usher them out of her chambers.
“Have a nice sundown,” I say, slamming the door closed in their stupidly handsome faces.
“My lady, most fair, what have you gotten yourself into?” the mirror man asks.
