Chapter 2 #2
Miss Blair continued to work at the chip in the desk, slowly peeling layers of wood until the sliver had grown into a gash. From the way her attention shifted, it was clear the action was subconscious. Another shared trait, it seemed.
“She broke into my home,” Kieran supplied, after the silence grew tiresome.
Captain Blair rubbed his temple like he was trying to dissuade a headache from taking root. “I apologize for my sister,” he started, mechanically, “Did she take anything?”
“No.”
“Break anything?”
“No.”
“Great. Then it’s just trespassing, is it? Well, that’s an improvement, I guess. Maybe next time we can shoot for a civil infraction instead of misdemeanors.”
“I’m not pressing charges.”
Their identical eyes snapped onto him. Which was quite the sight with mirrored expressions and indistinguishable face structure. Twins. He would bet anything.
Neither moved for half a minute, but their unnerving stare never wavered. Ignored or center of attention. His curse to bear.
“You’re not pressing charges?” Captain Blair repeated after several seconds.
“She broke into your—” he referenced the report, “Bedchamber in the middle of the night. Why? What happened in there?” His tone turned accusatory, and the accusation was toward Kieran.
Interesting. He may find his sister a disappointment, but not above his protection from predators.
Or, perhaps, that was just the effect Miss Blair had on those around her.
Kieran was sitting in this iron riddled inferno of a building because he too had wanted to ensure her safety. Was this power wielded with intent?
Kieran watched Miss Blair as he ignored the insinuation and said, “I won’t press charges on the condition that she works for me.”
Miss Blair’s annoyance with her brother shifted to incredulity at him. “Work for you?”
“I am in need of a secretary,” Kieran lied. “She can work off the charges in my service.”
“In your service? If you’re implying—”
Kieran stood up, rising to his full height.
Considerable, even for a fae. “We are not all ruled by our baser instincts, Captain. My honor is unquestionable. She’ll not be harmed in my care.
” He said the words while meeting Miss Blair’s eyes, intending to convey his full meaning.
He had no other way to protect her from Hawthorne aside from his own vigilance.
He owed her that much. Cole Hawthorne was a Winter Fae which made him Kieran’s responsibility. Unfortunately for all involved.
“Why then?” Miss Blair pressed.
Kieran nearly, nearly, rolled his eyes. A display he was not prone to use. “As stated, I need a secretary. You’ll save me a lot of trouble.”
“And then you’ll drop the charges?” Her brother continued. Kieran had thought it tiring dealing with one Blair. Together, they were insufferable.
“Yes, one less blot on her record. More than fair. And while she’s working for me, you can be assured that law breaking will be kept to a minimum.”
Captain Blair laughed. “If only that were true.”
“Wow, would anyone like my input or are you going to trade me like cattle?”
“It is entirely your choice to accept my offer,” Kieran said, adjusting his sleeves and coat, ready to be returning home. “In fact, I’m hoping you’ll decline. Save me the headache. But, if you should accept, I can offer you safe lodging and—”
“For me and a friend,” she interjected.
Kieran stopped adjusting. “What friend?”
“Yeah, what friend?” Captain Blair parroted.
“Just a friend. Is that a deal or are we done here?”
Kieran considered her for a moment. “You are not in the position to be making demands.”
She stood now, not matching him in height but making up the difference in ferocity. “Do we have an understanding or no?”
“Is this friend from a similar situation?”
Her nod was tight, but confirming. Perfect. Another soul in Hawthorne’s oily grasp. Kieran may as well open a fucking rescue.
“Fine. Agreed.” Kieran turned to leave, throwing over his shoulder, “Thank you for your time, Captain, but I’m afraid we no longer require the Watchmen’s assistance.”
When Miss Blair didn’t follow, Kieran motioned that she hurry.
“I need to get my things. And my friend,” she insisted, catching up to him.
“Naturally.”
He had all the time in the world. He was just going round taking in strays and saving women who break into his house.
Might as well go on an errand in the middle of the night.
It’s not like he had important meetings to attend in the morning.
And a full afternoon. And more meetings spanning well into the evening.
“Perfect, we live just inside Demon Row.”
Kieran glared at the back of her pretty head as she jaunted forward. Demon Row? What the hell was a human doing in Demon Row with Cole Hawthorne?
His fingers curled into fists. Miss Blair was a bottomless well of delightful surprises. Next, she would tell him this ‘friend’ was a wanted arsonist or dog strangler.
There was one thing about which Kieran was absolutely certain. He was going to regret this whole arrangement sooner rather than later.
Why would North drop the charges? What was his angle?
‘Saving’ her from Cole was likely a ploy meant to encourage Sera to repay him with whatever terms he deemed appropriate. Favors? Passion? It was the sort of currency a woman with no stable income was used to trading.
She didn’t buy a word of what he said while ‘Captain of the Watchmen Gideon’ hovered over them. No chance North had just offered to be her bodyguard for free. She was losing one chain to gain another. Hopefully he would choose a payment that didn’t make her skin crawl.
Sera eyed North as they waited for his carriage to be brought around.
He looked out of place in this predominately human neighborhood.
Even attired like a titled lord in a navy tailcoat that fit to perfection, it highlighted proportions that weren’t entirely human.
The white strands of his hair were swept in a gentle wave that was a touch longer on top and neatly trimmed along the sides, the effect made his pointed ears more prominent.
He adjusted his sleeves like he constantly sought an elusive state of perfection, the motions drawing her focus to strong, slender fingers.
The sort of hands designed for a piano or other refined pursuits.
She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had lessons as a child.
That sort of indulgence sounded accurate for the upper class and North’s bearing screamed Upper Ring.
The Ring was a district of the city reserved for affluent members of society.
Grand estates encircled the city’s central Spire—a white, jutting tower erected at Unity’s center and the seat of parliament.
It could be seen from anywhere in the city, even from her apartment in Demon Row.
All her life she’d marveled at the structure of it.
From each new window, in each new living arrangement she could only gaze from afar and guess at how they supported the weight of the top-heavy structure.
Why circular? Triangles and squares were easier to assemble and durable, strong shapes.
The construction alone had to be approached differently than a standard building.
If she had any dreams in this life, it was to one day get to see the Spire up close.
She had only to lift her eyes to see it now, stalwart and regal above the Garrison skyline. Sera had never ventured into the inner streets of the Garrison, and never as far inward as the Ring, which she imagined was full of castles and moats. A dragon or two. It may as well have been fantasy.
North had not spared her a glance since they stepped outside. She had not been shy about watching him, but he seemed determined not to acknowledge her.
Sera fought the impulse to reach out and tousle his hair.
First, because she loved running her fingers through a man’s soft hair and North’s looked practically downy.
Two, because it was sure to piss him off and serve him right for tricking her into being some damsel-concubine hybrid under the pretense of ‘honor.’
A carriage stopped in front of them and when she looked to North for recognition, he merely gestured with his chin for her to go first. No offer to get the door or even an ‘after you.’ It wasn’t that she expected it, exactly, since she was not from a world where men held open doors.
But since he was in control of this situation, it was his carriage, and he dressed, well, like a gentleman the expectation had squirmed into her thoughts regardless.
Sera took a step up and then immediately hopped back to the ground.
“It’s freezing in there,” she snapped.
He did not react. His posture remained rigid and his arms were crossed behind his back.
“I am aware.”
Her nose flared as she tried to swallow a huff. There were very few discomforts Sera couldn’t tolerate. Cold was near the top.
She debated how best to manipulate him. Would he respond to coy? Pitiful? Maybe picking at his instincts to protect and shield a perceived weaker species? Or, perhaps, the right degree of honesty would prompt him to trust her? She didn’t know him well enough yet to decide. He was too well guarded.
She settled on genuine, for the the time being.
“I know you need cold, but since we’re not built the same you can’t expect me to freeze to death in your care.”
He considered her for a long, awkward, silent minute.
Then he took a deep breath—that might have been an exasperated sigh, she wasn’t certain—and turned without a word to disappear back inside Watchmen Headquarters.
Sera’s hands flew to her hips. Indignation rose up her throat.
She should steal his carriage. Not that the driver would allow it, but still, she would trade a lot to see the look on North’s face if he returned and she was gone…
Should she be gone?
Sera took a step back, looking up and down the mostly empty sidewalk.
Should she run?