Now I was planning paint colors.
Funny how things will get worse first before it gets better.
Solomon was already on the far wall, roller in hand, laying down the first coat of warm cream I’d picked. He painted with no drips, no missed spots, no wasted motion.
His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his forearms streaked with paint, and the scar on his face caught the light every time he reached up.
The bond pulsed in my chest. One heartbeat that wasn’t mine.
Soon there would be two. Then three.
I shut that thought down before it could gain traction.
I’m planning to save dignity and not act as if I’m a dog in heat.
The front door swung open and Percy walked in carrying two brown bags that smelled so good my stomach audibly growled.
“That better not be your cooking,” I said.
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Your lack of faith wounds me.” Then he grinned. “I bought it from the diner. The waitress asked if I wanted my usual, and by usual she meant the five-item breakfast combo I’ve been ordering three times a week for a year.”
“You order breakfast for lunch?”
“Time is a construct. Pancakes are eternal.”
He set the bags on the makeshift table we’d assembled from sawhorses and a plywood sheet. Lucian appeared behind him in the doorway, uniform still on, folder tucked under one arm. He scanned the room with a critical eye.
“The window trim needs caulking,” he said.
“Hello to you too.” I pulled a container from the bag. “Nice to see you. Love what you’ve done with the brooding today.”
“The trim will leak.”
“And good morning.”
His mouth twitched. He crossed to the table and set the folder down, and I caught the logo of the town’s property management office on the cover. I’d seen that folder before. Had been avoiding asking about it for three days.
“You bought the building,” I said.
He didn’t blink. “I purchased the lease.”
“The entire lease. For the whole building.”
“The property was undervalued. It was a sound investment.”
“With what money, Lucian?” I crossed my arms. “Because I’ve done the math on a firefighter captain’s salary, and it does not cover downtown commercial real estate.”
Percy bit into a pancake and watched us with the fascination of a man who’d found front-row seats to his favorite show.
Lucian’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “I have additional resources.”
“Additional resources.” I let the words sit. “You mean the ancient kingdom you rule? The one with a palace and, I’m assuming, a treasury?”
“The Valdris treasury is managed by a council-appointed steward. My personal holdings are separate.”
“Your personal holdings.” I stared at him. “So you’ve been converting Veyndral assets into human currency. For how long? What’s the exchange rate on magical wolf gold? Does it get taxed? Are you committing tax evasion?”
Percy choked on his pancake.
