Chapter Eight
Rion dried off, dressed quickly, and reentered their shared room to find Selina sitting cross-legged on the floor with a map and an assortment of documents spread out before her. She clutched a mug in one hand, an enticing earthy aroma curling up from the rising steam.
She glanced up once, then returned to her documents without a word. He wondered if she’d already met with her comrades downstairs. He’d heard her leave while he was in the shower.
She wore a new set of pale pink pajamas with a large floral pattern stretching across the middle that reminded Rion of Nàdair’s spring gardens. Thank the gods she’d buttoned the shirt all the way to the top of her throat. Maybe now he could focus.
“Seàn secured the layout of the area this afternoon.” She tapped a finger on the blueprint. “But it looks like there’s a single-floor basement that isn’t on the blueprint.”
“Do you plan on searching the basement?”
“I plan to search everything, but it’s not a priority. They’ll likely have their secrets stashed somewhere obvious. A safe hidden behind a picture frame or inside of a hollowed-out book.” She shook her head. “They think themselves clever, but it’s all been done before.”
Rion leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “And how do you plan on getting in?”
“You did that part with the invite.”
“Right, but it’s not like they’re going to just let you wander the place.”
She waved a hand. “Once they’re all drunk, I’ll sneak off to the bathroom. A female has to check her makeup and all.”
“That has to be the oldest trick in the book.”
“Yet it works every time.” She batted her eyelashes and clasped her hands. “No one bothers to look twice at a pretty female who feels the powder on her nose is misplaced.”
“And if you’re caught?”
She dropped her hands and picked up her mug again. “I’m drunk myself, of course. And lost because the manor is just so big and there are so many rooms. Oh, and an interesting painting caught my eye.”
“You’ll be alone and they’ll be drunk, as you pointed out, what happens when a male decides to take advantage?”
She scoffed as if he were being ridiculous. “Do I look defenseless to you?”
“They could have iron.”
She crinkled her nose. “Doubtful, but if that happens then it’s a good thing my big bad boyfriend will come to the rescue.”
He raised a brow. “And you just . . . trust me to have your back?”
She leveled him with a look. “Are you planning to abandon me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Of course not, I’m just trying to figure out why you’d trust me with this instead of one of the others.”
“They’re not the ones with an invite, for one. And two, it’s your job and last I checked, you have a flawless record. I doubt your pride would allow you to fail on my account.”
Rion stared at her. Her relaxed posture. The lack of weapons or magic. Night had fallen and shadows danced along the wall as the candle flames flickered. Voices trickled up from downstairs, but the second floor was silent. They were alone.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
She eyed him, then the fire. “So many questions. You probably should have asked them before we left Nàdair.”
“As I recall, the details of this mission weren’t exactly disclosed. Otherwise, I might have.”
“You knew you’d be working with us. Last I checked, putting one's life in the hands of their comrades is fairly normal.”
“Not for me it isn't.”
A shrug. “Maybe you don’t give people enough credit.”
“Oh, I have.” His voice was a near whisper. “And I’ve regretted it every single time.” Not just Caol. No, he’d worked with plenty of groups that had wound up dead by his hand. “Three days was the longest any of them waited.”
She stretched out her legs. “Then I guess we’re setting a new record, aren’t we?”
“I want to know,” he pushed and she looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. His breath caught from the way the firelight illuminated her eyes. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
She huffed. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”
“Exceptional.”
Her jaw worked. “Maybe you’re just not who I thought you’d be.”
“Is that good or bad?”
She smirked. “Take it however you want.” She stood and Rion followed her every move as she poured hot water into another cup, refilled her own, then returned to her place on the floor. She set the mug before her and placed a fresh tea ball inside before gesturing to it. “I made you some.”
She’d already had the tea ball ready. His eyes traced her face, her pulse, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. “Is it poisoned?”
At that, she chuckled. “I take great offense to that.” She lifted his cup to her lips and sipped the hot liquid before meeting his gaze again. “Rest assured, Rion of Brónach. When I try to kill you, it won’t be with a cup of tea.”
He couldn’t draw breath and wasn’t entirely sure his voice was steady. “ Do you plan to kill me?”
Another smirk. “I haven’t decided yet.”