I come back to myself slowly, awareness returning in layers instead of all at once. The first thing I register is warmth, something solid and soft resting against my chest, rising and falling in a steady rhythm with my breath. The second is the full, uncooperative weight of my own body, heavy in the particular way that tells me exactly how much power I burned through tonight. Every muscle feels wrung out, every bone feels hollow.
I open my eyes, and if I had even a fraction of energy left I would laugh.
Sir is staring down at me, his golden gaze sharp and entirely unblinking, his body nestled against my chest like he has claimed this position by divine right and refuses to vacate it foranyone. His tail is curled neatly against my shoulder, the very picture of composure.
“Well,”he says, his tone clipped and edged with an irritation that does not quite manage to conceal the relief running beneath it,“you are awake.”
A breath slips out of me, softer than I intend. “Hi to you too.” He isn’t one for affection and we both know it, but I cannot help the brief, grateful brush of my fingers down his impossibly soft fur anyway.
He allows it, which tells me more than anything else could.
“They told me you collapsed,”he replies, his voice in my mind carrying the weight of deep personal offence, as though my losing consciousness was something I had done specifically to inconvenience him.“Highly inconvenient.”
I shift slightly, testing my limbs, taking slow stock of myself. The room tilts just enough to remind me that I am nowhere near fully recovered. My muscles feel scraped clean, my magic quiet now but present in a way it has never been before in my entire life, rooted and settled beneath my skin instead of locked somewhere beyond my reach.
“I’m glad you’re fine,”Sir adds after a measured pause, his tone softening by precisely one degree.“Dramatic, but fine.”
“I’ll take that,” I murmur, managing something close to a smile. I will warm his heart yet. It may take years, but I am patient.
I turn my head carefully, the movement costing me, and my voice comes out rougher than I expect. “I’m sorry,” is all I can croak out.
Maceo stands closest, his posture tight and coiled, his attention fixed on me with an intensity that makes it plain he has not moved far from this spot since they brought me back inside. His eyes track over me like he is still running the inventory, checking for damage. Lucien stands just beside him, composedas ever, arms folded across his chest, rings catching the low light, though the crease between his brows betrays him. Ezra sits near the edge of the chaise, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him, his expression quietly open, his hand moving in long, slow strokes up and down my leg in reassurance.
“No need for that,” Ezra says, his voice calm and unhurried. “You’re awake. That’s all that matters right now.”
“Yes, I am,” I reply, voice raspy.
Maceo exhales, long and controlled, the tension in his broad shoulders releasing just slightly, as though he has been holding it for hours. “You scared the hell out of us.”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though I can still feel the echo of everything that happened tonight sitting deep in my bones like an aftershock.
“You rebuilt the wards and then passed out cold,” Lucien says evenly, his eyes focused on mine. “You are more than allowed a moment to collect yourself.”
I push myself upright anyway, bracing my palm flat against the cushion until the room stops its slow rotation. Sir shifts fluidly with me, adjusting his position without a word of complaint, though his tail flicks once in clear and deliberate disapproval of my pace.
“How did you find me?” I ask, once the room holds still again.
Ezra glances briefly down at Sir before answering. “He told us.”
My brows draw together. “Sir?”
“I had no choice,”Sir says at once, his tone sharpening defensively.“You were in distress, and the three of them were taking far too long to grasp the severity of the situation. Someone had to be efficient.”
Maceo lets out a quiet, disbelieving huff of air. “Still going to take some getting used to,” he mutters.
“You can all hear him?” I ask, looking between them.
Lucien inclines his head with a small, measured nod. “Very clearly.”
Sir lifts his chin with great dignity.“It was a temporary allowance made under extraordinary circumstances. Do not mistake it for an open invitation.”
“Sure,” I reply, letting the word stretch out with every ounce of skepticism I have left.
“I felt it,”Sir continues, ignoring my tone entirely.“The precise moment something was wrong. The connection between us is not decorative, Keisha.”
“We went looking for you the moment we realized you were not in the shop,” Ezra adds, his jaw tightening slightly at the memory of it. “The crate was shattered by the door, broken bottles scattered everywhere. You were simply gone.”
“It appears Montgomery used a concealment circle,” Lucien says. “A sophisticated one. It took time to work around it.”
