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The mansion has stood at the edge of Caervast for generations, every Virel before me living here while they studied at the academy too.
Rowan rolls his eyes before glancing back up at me. “No.”
Is that annoyance? After the nightmare of an evening he had? I’m not including our date, obviously, but whatever the fuck happened after that.
If someone was following Rowan tonight, I’ll deal with it. I always do.
Shrugging at the towering black stone arches disappearing into the amber light overhead, I glance back at him. “Yeah, well. We’ve never really done modest.”
He gives me a look that almost makes me smile, his band still glowing amber while he pretends he’s perfectly fine despite the fact that he was shaking in my hands fifteen minutes ago. Stubborn little mouse. Now he’s in my house and apparently thinks he gets to decide he’s fine again.
Which is cute, but unfortunately for him, this is my territory now, and I decide what counts as fine here.
“I mean,” Rowan says, still hovering near the entrance hall like he’s afraid to touch anything, “I appreciate you bringing me here tonight, but I’m fine now. I can just go back to the dorm, or sleep on the couch or something. A few cushions would honestly be fine.”
From somewhere deeper in the room, Rafe snorts without even looking up from his multi-slate. “Oh, you’re definitely still not getting it.”
Rowan’s confusion is so obvious that I can’t help laughing. “Nope, he really isn’t.”
Next to Rafe, Lucan shifts beneath the blanket tangled around his legs, his shirt still half-unbuttoned as he gives Rowan a slow once-over before looking back at me. “Well. That’s new.”
“Long story,” I mutter.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “I bet.”
Rowan shifts beside me, finally noticing the rest of the house is still awake. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were all awake —”
“Relax.” Lucan pushes himself up against the couch cushions, the blanket slipping lower around his waist. “I’ve seen worse things dragged through that door after midnight.”
Rowan just blinks at him.
Lucan’s grin turns wolfish. “Usually they’re Ciaran’s latest bad decision.”
“Careful.”
Lucan looks back at Rowan. “Always, cousin. Anyway, what about your friend?”
“Damaris.” Rowan lifts his wrist, opening his multi-slate. “Good Light. I need to message him.”
“Don’t bother,” Lucan says. “Your friend already knows where you are. Honestly, I figured he’d come sprinting over here.”
“No, you wanted him to.” Rafe chuckles.
Rowan’s head snaps up. “What?”
Lucan lifts his own multi-slate. “What, what?”
“You texted him?”
Lucan practically preens. “He answered very fast.”
“He was worried,” Rafe deadpans.
“Mm.” Lucan looks insufferably smug. “Another ten minutes and I think he would’ve shown up at the gates personally.”
Rowan’s face shifts through about five emotions at once.
“I was a little disappointed, actually,” Lucan adds. “I already had a whole welcome prepared.”
