Magdala stiffened, then rolled over. Asherton lay beside her, still asleep, on top of the covers. “Merciful heavens!” she exclaimed and pulled the covers over her chest. She was fully dressed, but it was a reflex.
Asherton sat up, looking around in alarm. When he saw Magdala, he relaxed. “There you are,” he said, stretching. “How did you get in my bed?”
A vague, foggy memory came to her of pulling on her sleeping clothes, dropping exhausted onto something warm and soft, and falling instantly into a cozy sleep. Magdala didn’t like seeing the world through Zephyr’s eyes, but she imagined, were she in his shoes, she would find this scene suspicious as well. “Zeph, I swear, nothing happened.”
Another memory, this one not in the least vague, sprang into her mind, of her lips on Asherton’s lips, of her hands in his hair and his fingers splayed out beneath her shoulder blades. She swallowed.
“Yes,” Zephyr drawled. “You’re very convincing.” He turned to Asherton. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Like my valet tried to murder my bodyguard,” Asherton replied darkly.
“Well.” Zephyr sniffed and rolled one shoulder. “Your bodyguard tried to murder you.”
Wishing she could shrink into the floor, Magdala got up and hurried to the breakfast tray, where she took a bite of everything. Asherton watched her intently.
Zephyr did, too, with the nervous restlessness of a man deciding if he should accuse or apologize. His blue sweater, the one with the duck, was especially rumpled today, like he’d thrown it on in the dark. And his face was drawn—there were bags under his eyes.
“You can’t run about killing the help,” Asherton said. Magdala glared over her shoulder at him and he winked at her. “Mags and I have talked …”
Zephyr hmphed. “Is that what you did?”
“We didn’t sleep together,” Asherton said, annoyed. “Well, we slept together literally, by accident, but not in the way you think we did.”
Zephyr shifted uncomfortably. “I recognize that I may have overreacted yesterday.”
“Overreacted?” Magdala and Asherton cried together.
“Oh, so now you’re a two-headed monster with one voice, I see,” he said bitterly. “Intentional or not, Miss Devney did cut you with a poisoned dagger. And I would like to point out that she still has not explained who she is working for.”
Magdala’s eyes darted to Asherton and he shrugged. “She told me.”
Zephyr crossed his arms, clearly expecting Asherton to tell him as well, but Asherton just smiled.
“Oh. I see,” Zephyr said stiffly. “Very well, then.”
“You’re overprotective, Zeph …” Asherton began, but Zephyr cut him off, making a reflexive movement toward him.
“You are reckless and foolhardy. You will get your throat slashed before the crown touches your empty head!”
“And what happens then, Zeph?” Asherton asked, coolly meeting the immortal’s gaze. “You get your solitude back, no strings attached.”
Zephyr started back like he’d been struck. “Do you honestly think that your death would benefit me?”
“It would,” Asherton said flatly.
“Not in any way that matters!” Zephyr cried.
Asherton smiled wryly. “Give it eight hundred more years and I have no doubt you’ll forget all about me.”
Zephyr opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, but only a thin ‘ahh’ came out. Twitching, he whipped around and made for the door, but he paused in the doorway. “Miss Devney, for the love of all that isgood, try to stay focused on your duty instead of running about in the moonlight.”
“I am,” Magdala said through a mouthful of bayberry muffin.
“Oh, and I found your brother’s jacket on the grounds this morning. No idea how it got there. It’s drying in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Zeph,” Asherton said.
Mumbling, Zephyr wafted out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him and Magdala turned to Asherton.
