The kiss comes rushing back, my eyes closing as I relive the heat, the passion. Valen’s hands. His mouth. My shirt torn. My legs around his hips. I cannot deny it, even if I instinctively try to. I do want him still.
But Valen wants something from me, and it’s not just my body. I need to discover what it is before he seizes the upper hand. My eyes narrow, cycling through the things I do know. The Bauers wanted Alasdair gone and me in power. But it cannot be that simple anymore. Maybe Valen wants to make things right, but not his father. Vincentius is too power-hungry to be satisfied with simply righting a wrong. I was a pawn on his chessboarduntil a better player to manipulate entered his arsenal. He made that abundantly clear when he failed to support me as Heir.
I was a child, starved for a father’s love. Vincentius used that, treated me as one of his own, just so I’d follow blindly. But he underestimated me. Now he’ll face the woman I’ve become. The woman he created.
Vincentius, for all his scheming, cannot claim Archweaver himself. It’s weaver law. Power and control must go downstream. It cannot flow up or across. It’s why my aunt cannot claim the position. The two of them aged out the moment the next generation was birthed—Alasdair and me. I can still claim the title until the next birthing cycle comes. Then a child from that generation will snatch the title from us.
My eyes flare. Likemychild. Valentin the Seventh, Vincentius’ ultimate dream. Valen and me and our one-day son. If Vincentius is hoping to corner my father by using his lineage obsession against him, then Vincentius would need to breed one of his two children to Atticus’. Valen said that Alasdair refused Emilia, so now the only hope Vincentius has for this scheme is for Valen to seduce me again before the next birthing cycle.
A seed of a plan sprouts and I pull the drawers open to inspect my options. Lips twitching, my tongue slides along my teeth. I run my other hand through the silks within.
I take the poor, tired moth in my fingers. Like an oath that I’m swearing, I whisper to its wings, “You, me. Team. Always.”
I must get Lucas out of this house before Vincentius returns. I have no doubt that he will crush Lucas, even if I sob for him to stop. It would be his right since we broke into the estate. Vincentius wouldn’t hurt me, but he wouldn’t see a magician worthy of mercy.
I pull out the silk to set my plan in action.
CHAPTER 13
Magic shifts in the room. A subtle breath whispers past my lips, but I dare not move from where I pretend to be asleep on the bed. The door clicks open and the steady rhythm of Valen’s footsteps is unmistakable. He pauses for a second, and an unidentifiable soft clicking sounds before he approaches the bed. Anticipation curls within me, bringing a wave of languid heat that nearly has my thighs flexing.
The footsteps stop at the foot of my bed. What I wouldn’t give to peek at him. The blankets are barely covering me, and I chose the sheerest chemise in the dresser to pair with a blue silk corset. It was a struggle to remember how to lace up the back and I had to use magic in the end, but Valen always loved to unclasp the steel busks while kissing me.
I’d carefully placed my hands above my head on the pillow to make my nipples peek over the top of the corset, the sheerness of the chemise’s lace teasing them.
Unable to resist any longer, my eyes flutter open. He’s watching me from beside the bed with an unspoken question hidden within his gaze, one that he doesn’t voice, but I read clearly. I smile softly in response. Yes, I do remember the last time I wore this particular lingerie set. Shimmying into it andmagically adjusting it to fit my older body was like feeling his hands as they slid over my skin all over again.
It was our last time together, and it was beautiful. Every time was beautiful, but I chose this color because it matched the engagement ring he gave me.
Slowly, I slide up on my elbows. “Valen?”
His eyes close briefly, his jaw tight. When they open, the ice is back in place. “We need to talk.”
I nod and point to the armchair across the room, where I strategically placed my matching silk robe. “Do you mind?”
He could use his magic, but instead, Valen crosses the room and collects the robe. It’s a challenge to hide my cat-like smile as I slide to the edge of the bed. He turns, his cold gaze sliding up and down my form when I uncurl to standing. It’s subtle, but I can see the signs of my plan working on his usually implacable mask. There is a war that wages within him, his center tipped off balance, and he sways slightly. He hesitates, his jaw tightening in resolve before he dares to approach me. The robe is held out like it’s a shield between us.
I accept the offer, my smile slow and voice husky with false sleep. “Thank you.”
His gaze falls to the bed beside me. “You’re welcome.”
I take my time pulling on the robe. “I hope you don’t mind that I took advantage of the clothes in here.”
He steps back. “Of course not. They were once yours.”
I let the moment hang while I pull the ends closed. The sash tightens around my middle, accentuating the corset’s curves there. “Did you find anything in your search, or is this a…” My eyes dance playfully. “Social visit?”
The corner of his lip twitches. He nods towards the armchairs. “Come sit with me.”
On the table between the chairs is a small tray with a carafe of coffee and two cups. He must’ve brought it in with him, whichexplains his pause earlier. I take my seat, helping myself to the caffeine eagerly. The porcelain is preheated. Such class. I pour a hearty amount of cream.
Valen watches me, his gaze far.
I pause. “What?”
“You’re taking cream now.” He slides into a more alert position on the chair, his back straight. The coffee steams as he pours his own.
I blow lightly to cool my cup. “I learned life is too short not to enjoy the pleasures it has to offer.”
