Marcus answered as he stepped outside, the cold air a shock after the warmth of the cabin.
“Status report,” Malphas said without preamble.
“Secure. No incidents today.” Unless you counted almost kissing his witness. “The Shadow Council attempted interference yesterday, but we handled it.”
“Hmm. And Ms. Wickwood?”
“Progressing well with testimony preparation.”
“Good. Remember, Marcus—keep it professional. We can’t afford complications.”
“Of course.” The words tasted like ash.
After Malphas hung up, Marcus remained outside, letting the cold night air cool his heated skin. Through the window, he could see Hazel curled in her chair again, grimoire open but her eyes unfocused, staring at nothing.
When he went back inside, she didn’t look up.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just checking in.” He reclaimed his spot on the couch, picking up his book.
They read in silence for another hour. Every page turn seemed too loud. Every shift of position seemed too noticeable.
Hazel closed her grimoire. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sleep well.”
She paused at her bedroom door. “Marcus?”
“Yes?”
“When did you become less annoying?”
Despite everything, he smiled. “When did you become less impossible?”
She disappeared into her room, door clicking shut softly.
Marcus stared at the closed door, then settled back with his unread book. Fifteen days left.
In her room, Hazel pressed her back against the door. Through the thin walls, she could hear him settling onto that god-awful couch. A spring twanged. He swore under his breath.
She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, and went to bed.
9
Hazel reachedfor her favorite mug just as Marcus shifted left to grab the tea tin. Seven days of forced proximity had created an unconscious choreography between them. She knew he’d reach for the sugar next, he knew she’d need the counter space for her grimoire.
He eyed the grimoire with a wariness that hadn’t been there a week ago.
“Should I be concerned?”
“About what?”
“The last time you opened one of those near me, something exploded.”
“That was a controlled reaction. Mostly.” She flipped the grimoire open with perhaps more force than necessary. “Besides, this one’s just tea recipes. Probably.”
“Probably,” Marcus repeated flatly.
