“As one does,” Ronin cut in.
“Anyway” —Mireille rolled her eyes— “there was an entry in one that said anastasium was originally discovered millennia ago in a small village deep within the Northern Territories called Listhima. The Deathstalkers who lived there used the stone in some kind of religious ritual, but the book was vague on the details. Whatever it was, that knowledge has long since faded from history, along with any mention of a potential source of Stygios’s power.”
Ronin rubbed a hand up the shaved side of his head, lost in thought, and Mireille had to consciously stop herself from staring.
She’d always thought he was handsome, even before they’d officially met. It was his personality that had been a turn off. Or what she’d assumed was his personality. Hewascocky, of course…or maybe that wasn’t the right word. Because cocky implied an act, a lack of substance hidden behind false bravado.
But now, especially after everything she’d learned on their date, his arrogance held the unmistakable air of legitimacy. He was a male who had beenthrough itand come out the other side to tell the tale. A bit more mature—and humble—than she’d expected.
And curse Amatu, Mireille was finding it all sodisgustinglyattractive.
She’d been trying to smother her interest these past few days by being as nasty and standoffish as possible. But despite her efforts, the seeds of a crush were blooming tiny sprigs of life.
He raised his gaze to find her staring. “What?”
“Nothing.” She darted her eyes away. “Did you find anything else in the disappearance reports?”
“Fuckingtaskmaster, Valette.” His sly grin exposed a sharp canine that had her involuntarily tonguing her own. “But there was one more thing.”
He angled his head back toward the board, his tattoos shifting across his taut neck muscles. He tapped his knuckles against one of the disappearance reports. “This Beastrunner female, Larissa Bisere. I know her brother Mattias. Used to fight him in the arena, though he hasn’t been back in months. I see him occasionally at the Crystal. I’ll reach out, see if he’s willing to meet with us after my fight tonight.”
“Good,” Mireille said, feeling like she should compliment Ronin on all the work he’d done, but not quite ready to give him that satisfaction. “What time?”
“Fight’s usually over by midnight. I’ll meet you at the Frosted Crystal after. One o’clock? Or is that past your bedtime?”
“It’s fine,” she snapped. “I’ll see you at one. I’m gonna head back over to the Imperial library, see if I can find anything else about anastasium or the Scales of Nyctima. Are you staying?”
“Nothing else to do.” He picked up a folder.
Mireille was once again impressed by his dedication, but didn’t say anything as she exited the room and shut the door.
Working with someone else wasn’t nearly as terrible as she’d anticipated.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The arena smelled even worse than Mireille could’ve imagined. A nauseating stew of sweat, blood, cigarette smoke, and cheap cologne that had her wishing she’d gone with her first instinct this evening and just met Ronin at the Frosted Crystal after his fight like they’d agreed.
But she couldn’t help it. She was…curious.
Honestly, she blamed this stupid crush on her pathetic excuse for a love life. She hadn’t had sex with anyone other than her marks for decades, not since that disastrous attempt at a relationship twenty years back.
She and Josef had begun dating while starring together inTorvolde and Birgitta,a ballet that chronicled the star-crossed love between Syvalle’s first female warrior and the enemy general of an opposing army in the years before the Empire had unified the territories.
It annoyed Mireille that despite being the obvious hero of the story—and the only half of the duo to survive the final curtain—Torvolde’s name had been placed before Birgitta’s in the title.
The injustice didn’t bother Josef, a laid-back Windrider with an easy laugh and the most stunning abs she’d ever seen.Though based on the feel of Ronin’s beneath his shirt last night, Josef was about to be unseated.
The two dancers had enjoyed a passionate, months-long affair. Josef had softened Mireille’s rougher edges, had allowed her to be a version of herself she’d never tried on before. He didn’t balk at her dedication to her jobs, so she’d moved in with him.
She’d thought she’d found the love of her life.
A notion she was abruptly disabused of when she’d caught Josef fucking one of the chorus members backstage on opening night of the following season. Suddenly, his easy-going nature had made a lot more sense.
Luckily, she’d had the forethought to keep her own apartment. Also luckily, she was the High-Gods-damned prima ballerina, so she’d had Josef’s cheating ass booted from the company.
Despite her bruised pride and broken heart, the whole debaclehadoffered one benefit: the reinforcement of Mireille’s life-long belief that getting close to anyone, allowing anyone behind her walls, would only cause her pain. And even though she’d learned that lesson the hard way, she felt a renewed justification in her solitary existence.
She’d sworn off relationships since. And had vowed never to mix work and even temporary pleasure again.
