31. Syrus #3
Strickland gestures to our escort of wardens, and their numbers thin a little, while the assemblyman turns toward a hallway that runs parallel to the chamber. “Please follow me, Lord Syrus and Miss…?” he looks at me expectantly.
“Renova,” I say quickly, deciding Leah is too human, borrowing the name of a demon friend Asterim’s mentioned.
“Renova is a lieutenant of mine,” Syrus says, picking up my new name without blinking. “She will require sanctuary too. I ask that she be treated with the same respect as myself during her stay in Pax.”
Strickland’s gaze flicks between Syrus and me, and I can see the curiosity on his face. It’s more calculating than I’d like, but this man couldn’t have gotten to his position without a decent set of brains in his head.
“Consider it done,” he assures us as he leads us down the corridor. “Are you a citizen of Infernum yourself, Miss Renova? I only ask because, if you’ll forgive their caution, my security detail like to understand who’s staying in my residence.”
“We decided my true form might be too unsettling for the average Stratan,” I say, making my voice sound amused.
Then, to sell the lie, I lift my hand and let a column of shadow rise from it.
Strickland’s step falters, the wardens around us reach for their weapons, and I quickly extinguish the magic.
“Does that answer your question?” I ask lightly.
Strickland clears his throat. “Yes, thank you,” he says flatly. I’m surprised I frightened the man. It’s a glimpse of something quite human under his confident veneer, and I feel a little bad.
We pass down a few more corridors before the shape of the building changes, becoming smaller—more like a grand house than a state building.
“The chief assemblyman’s residence is connected to the Assembly building,” Strickland explains as we pass through a door flanked by wardens. “It is probably the safest place in Pax.”
That’s no exaggeration, I think, remembering the sharp spikes on the walls and roof outside.
Strata’s politicians might be lax on a lot of things, but they take the security of the Assembly building seriously, making sure it can defend against a winger attack.
Strickland doesn’t spell it out, but he’s saying Syrus is safe here even if the lords decide to ignore Strickland’s order of sanctuary.
“I’m grateful for your help, Mr. Strickland,” Syrus says. “And now seems a good time to remind you of my offer—whatever favor you’d like to request, I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”
Strickland’s step slows. I notice a couple of household staff hovering down the hall, wide-eyed at the sight of Syrus, no doubt awaiting some instruction about the new guests.
“I’m sure you’ll understand if I take some time to weigh up my options, Lord Syrus?” Strickland says, a little bashful. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t currently have anything specific in mind. I gave you sanctuary because I think it’s the right thing to do.”
He beckons to the staff, who hurry forward obediently.
“Now, my housekeeper will be able to find a room for yourself and your companion.” He pauses, eyes widening a little as he perhaps realizes he’s been presumptuous. “…Unless?”
He lets the question hang in the air, and I fight to keep my disaffected expression.
Clearly, Strickland suspects that we’re lovers.
I wonder how he guessed. Was it Syrus’s demand that I be looked after that did it?
Or can anyone looking at us see the way I’m drawn to him?
It’s an unsettling prospect—I thought I was hiding it better than that.
“One room will be fine,” Syrus says smoothly, and Strickland is polite enough to simply nod.
When we’re alone inside said room, Syrus wastes no time flinging himself down onto the bed in a decidedly un-lordly way.
“Darkness, that was tedious,” he says. “And I thought meetings with the lords were bad. I hate politics. Even when I was king, it wasn’t for me.”
“Hmm…” I say, sitting down beside him and finding I can’t help myself. “But you seemed to like it just fine when you stopped to say hi to Lady Handsy back there.”
He tilts his head to look at me, eyes glinting. “Lady Roseingrave?”
“She’s famous for having a long stream of lovers, you know. And she never settles down with any of them. Not that I’m judging,” I say quickly. “I just think you should be warned.”
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” he asks, delighted.
I choke out an unconvincing laugh. “No. I just don’t see why she would think it’s appropriate to start grabbing a demon lord, that’s all. I mean, does the woman have no sense of self-preservation?”
He rolls over and pulls me against him, nuzzling my neck in a way that makes me melt. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be pointing fingers there,” he murmurs against my skin. “Or did I imagine you tackling me last night?”
“Tackle!” I repeat, my outrage losing some credibility given I’m giggling and leaning into his touch. “You’re the one tackling me!”
“Then I suppose we’re both hypocrites,” he says as he leans down to kiss me, and my mind goes blissfully blank for quite some time.