Calliope slipped his coat from her shoulders and set it over the chair. “I’ll go with your brother.”
“No.” Final.
“Yes,” she challenged back. “I don’t want anyone rifling through my drawers.” Stars. Her slipper! She’d almost completely forgotten about the thing! She might have been brave enough to reveal her connection with Mr. Rollings, but not that she was the woman who’d lost the slipper. They had already suspected her to be a spy at onepoint. What would they suspect next if they discovered the truth?
Hah! Finding the slipper would serve him right, though!
“Then I’ll accompany you,” Maxen announced.
“No need. I’d rather your brother accompany me.” She arched a brow. “Unless you have a problem with not supervising.”
The eyes that bore into her flashed before he gave a curt nod.
She stepped past him—close enough that her shoulder brushed his—and forced herself to keep walking. The nerves along her scalp prickled. How could it hurt to breathe so much? She didn’t even look to see if his brother, Reaper, followed. But she could feel all their eyes on her. They burned like a hot poker, making her want to escape all the more.
Her hand reached for the doorknob.
“Calliope.”
Her name, a clipped command.
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
His voice came again, quieter now. Rougher. “Don’t take too long packing.”
Oh, I won’t.
She strode from the cursed place.
Seconds later, Reaper joined at her side, his broodiness palpable. Well, hers should be, too. She’d certainly learned a valuable lesson tonight—ignore requests to meet at suspect places. One would have thought she’d have learned this lesson the first time. Tonight, however, had been an excellent reminder. She could not afford to lose focus on her dream. Only disappointing things happened when she did.
“You’re trouble,” the brother at her side suddenly said.
She glanced at him.
“You’re careless, too curious by half, and seem incapable of leaving things well enough alone. A bad combination in our world.”
Calliope averted her gaze. So, in the end, she was all the things shehadn’t wanted to be. Trouble. A hindrance. A nuisance.
Was this her curse?
Maxen hadn’t outright called her a burden—nor had his brothers, for that matter—but Calliope could read between the lines. Read between faces, pursed lips, stiff posture, and all that lay unsaid.
“Just who are you lot?” she muttered. Weren’t they the ones who were supposed to be trouble, hindrances, and nuisances? How wassheonce again the one to be made to feel this way?
“You said it yourself. We are the beasts of Brighton.”
“I heard that from someone else. I want to hear it from you.”
“That, little mouse, you’re safer not knowing.”
“Am I?” She wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
“Trust me, you are.”
Trust him? Heh! She trusted that he would obey his brother, but not much else. The only person she might ever rely upon, in the end, was herself. She alone was responsible for her life. Her happiness. Her future.
Calliope made a decision then.
