Page 38

The results had been encouraging, and before he knew it, the money began to return to the Drake coffers. It was a slow job, ten years of his life spent incognito, but it paid off. All the banks in Gloamtide owed their existence to the Drake family, personified by Cyrus.

He’d set up some reputable lenders, helped build what little law enforcement there was, and still remained in touch, very aware of the world down at the bottom of Caelemar. Now he monitored, enforced when necessary, and found himself more often than not buried in Gloamtide financial matters.

It had worked out for everyone, although he’d kept most of it as quiet as he could for the past years. His involvement was a great deal less...a visit now and again to chat with a friend or two, or discuss business.

Had he ended poverty? No. He had learned long ago that money could repair a roof, fund a patrol, keep a lender honest, or give a family breathing room. It could not mend everything that was wrong with Gloamtide. But some streets were safer than they had been. Some businesses survived. Some people had choices they would not otherwise have had. For now, he took what victories he could get.

Of course recently there’d been more failures than victories.

He drummed his fingers on his desk, once again drawn into the puzzle of the murders. Who was killing, and why? What did they want with an assortment of unconnected body parts from different types of people? A pair of ribs, a hand, a couple of fangs...

He sighed. There was no pattern he could discern, no connection other than they were bits of what constituted a person.

Could they be parts of some horrible recipe? Had someone found one of those ancient receipt books and decided to try their hand at spell making? That was an area he probably should explore with a witch from the Gilded Lady Velvet House.

But not today, he had work on his plate.

Determined to accomplish some of it, Cyrus put in a few hours with pen, paper, and reference books. It was not simple, and there were more than a few crumpled sheets of paper on the floor when he was done, but he’d whittled down quite a bit of the mundane chores, and that pleased him.

Leaning back in his chair and stretching, he glanced at the clock and his mind immediately wondered what Mae was doing.

His body tightened as he took a breath and smiled at the thought of her busy with something, focussing on whatever it was, and perhaps laughing now and again.

She was a distraction he’d never anticipated. His reaction to that fact shocked him, for the simple reason that it had never happened before.

He felt good when he thought of her. Something warm was unfurling inside him, something like lust, but more. When she smiled, he wanted to smile with her. When she laughed, it touched him in places that surprised him.

Cyrus was not a serial lover, taking as many women as possible in whatever free time he had. There were too many of those sorts of men around Caelemar, and the society they frequented thought nothing of taking a new lover every week.

He’d mentally assigned the Theryns to that category, since they were a well-known name in the Caelemar society registers.

His attendance at their ball had reinforced his opinion as he’d noticed Mae’s aunt behaving in a less-than-exemplary fashion with several high ranking gentlemen. When flirting became something more, Cyrus’s innate dislike for public displays of overt affection leapt to the forefront.

He’d been so close to leaving.

And then came Mae and that machine.

In one instant, with one dance...everything had changed.

He knew it, deep inside. His life had taken an unexpected turn, offered him something he’d never imagined, and now it was up to him to decide whether to pursue this entrancing woman as a mere pleasurable interlude or...or...

He shook his head at himself, acknowledging the truth.

She was no interlude.

Mae, Lady Maelin of Theryn, was his. And that was all there was to it.

Chapter Fourteen

“Did you sleep well, Miss Mae? Good dreams?”

Inkytink’s voice woke Maelin from a sound sleep, and she blinked for a moment, trying to get her bearings.

“Ummm...”

“Still takin’ your time to wake up.” The tickerkin chuckled. “Some things won’t ever change, I suppose. Anyway, when you’re ready, here’s your Crownmist tea, just the way you like it.”

“Mmm.” Maelin sighed and stretched. “Bless you, Inky. Just what I need.” She pulled herself up on the pillows and smiled at the tea tray set right beside her bed.