And by the time the sun rose to its peak in the noonday sky, Mireille had buried her sorrow as well.
She fled to Kheimos, made a new life for herself there. Took a job with Imperial Affairs that allowed her to use the skills her mother had taught her—the intellect she’d gleaned from the books, her ability to remain unflappably emotionless no matter the circumstances, her talent with potions brewing. She was so good at her job that Skanisse hadn’t objected when she’d requested to pursue her dancing as well. And she’d climbed tothe very top of that field with the same single-minded focus and ruthless efficiency she’d gleaned from Vivienne.
She’d changed her last name from Valois to Valette, keeping a hint of her mother’s original surname. Though it was a risk, especially with her mother’s pack members still at large, she couldn’t bear to change it completely.
What if her father ever came looking for her?
She pulled the ballerina figurine from her pocket, holding it in her right hand as she caressed the long, silver scar on her forearm with her left. Two reminders of everything she’d lost.
“Whatcha working on?” a low voice drawled, breaking her from her reverie. She turned toward the open door of the laboratory.
High Gods, Ronin looked like shit.
His clothes were especially disheveled today. And was he wearing his shirt inside out? Purple crescents lurked beneath his eyes, and his white hair was limp and greasy—unwashed for days.
Mireille glanced at the clock on the wall. “Only three days and twenty-seven minutes late. You must’ve been anxious to see me.”
He shrugged, leaning against the door frame. “Needed some time to think.”
“And?” Mireille asked, her heart in her throat, her eyes glued to her potion. Though the fact that he’d come at all was promising, she couldn’t bear to look at him. Maybe he’d only come to let her down.
She distracted herself by decanting the clear liquid into a small vial, then screwed on a silver lid and placed it in her bag.
“I’m fucking here, aren’t I?” he mumbled.
Relief poured through Mireille’s veins as she stood from her seat, then gathered her bag and flicked off the lights.
“Follow me,” she said. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ronin followed Mireille down the sparse hallways, the harsh lights buzzing overhead.
He’d never seen someone move so gracefully. She glided along the concrete, her steps silent and her back rod-straight.
She turned through a windowed door,ARCHIVESprinted on the glass.
“Good morning, Sonya.” She offered a kind smile to the female Windrider behind the desk. So shewascapable of being cordial. Just not to him.
The cream-winged Fae smiled back. “At it again, I see? I left the room set-up for you.” Sonya passed a plastic card to Mireille. “Thank the High Gods the IA is finally taking those complaints seriously and looking into Otto.”
Ronin stepped up to the desk. “What complaints?”
The Windrider gave Ronin a questioning look and Mireille piped up, “He’s my partner on this one. You can answer him.”
“Partner?” Sonya barked a laugh. “Where’s he been the past three days, then? And since when doyouneed a partner?”
Mireille side-eyed Ronin. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. He certainly wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
That makes two of us, Ronin thought. “Whatcomplaints?” he asked again.
“Not very polite, is he?” Sonya cocked an eyebrow at Mireille, who returned a conspiratorial grin.
“And rather impatient, given he was nearly a half-hour late this morning as well.”
Sonya patted Mireille’s hand. “Well, if anyone can turn him around, I’m sure it’s you, dear.”
Ronin stared at the two females, slack-jawed. Unused to being so thoroughly ignored.
