15. Chapter 15 #3
“Thanks, Margo.” If her voice sounded a little too high, a little too rushed, neither of them commented.
“So spill!” The woman was practically vibrating, bouncing on her toes as she refilled her glass. “Who’s the new guy?”
“I…” Emmaline hesitated, the words catching.
She didn’t even know where to begin. Did she tell them about the storeroom or the way his hands had felt on her skin?
Did she mention the way her body had responded, the way he had looked at her afterward—not like a conquest, nor a mistake, but like someone he would ruin himself to protect? Did she even understand it herself?
She glanced up, only to find both Ursula and Margo staring at her expectantly.
She cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t we wait for Cassidy to get here?” The deflection was weak at best, but she latched onto it. “I don’t want to have to go through all of this twice.”
“Oh, well.” Margo pursed her lips, rolling her shoulders. “She won’t be making it tonight. Some mission far to the south. She couldn’t talk about it.”
Ursula and Emmaline exchanged a glance.
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense, I guess.” It wasn’t unusual.
Cassidy’s work took her all over the Vale, but something about the way Margo said it felt…
off. Cassidy never missed ladies’ night.
Even Lara would show up most nights, too, trotting through the club with all the self-importance of a queen.
Ursula had retrofitted the entire place to be Corgi-friendly just so she could.
“You don’t think she’s avoiding me, do you?” Emmaline scrunched her nose. “You know, because of… everything?”
Ursula took another slow sip of her wine. “Can you blame her?”
Margo frowned, shaking her head. “Of course not. It’s just a mission.”
But the words didn’t land quite right.
“I have to tell Lara, don’t I?” She sucked in a breath. “Even if nobody else ever finds out, I still need to tell her.”
Silence stretched between them.
Ursula looked away while Margo rubbed her temples like she had already played this conversation out in her head. “It’s hurting them, having a secret like that between them.”
Emmaline cursed softly, nodding, though the thought of Lara’s disapproval settled like a lead weight in her gut. Corgis were loyal to a fault, but they were also merciless in their judgment. And no creature in existence had mastered the art of the side-eye like Lara.
“Shite.” The word tasted bitter in her mouth. “You’re right. As soon as they get back, I’ll tell her.” She stared down at the orange liquid. “Do you think they’ll turn me in?”
“No! Of course not.” Margo’s hands wrung together, her whole body leaning forward. “Even though Caelith isn’t your mate, it was an accident. Lara will understand.”
Emmaline looked to Ursula.
“If the worst happens.” She topped off her glass as if discussing something as simple as the weather. “I’ll get you out of the city. Away from the Patrol.”
Leave the Vale? The thought sent a cold shudder through her. It was unimaginable. This was her home, her world, her entire life. Ellyllon did not often survive outside the Vale’s magical bubble, and even those who did… they were never the same.
“Lara will understand that it was an accident,” Emmaline said, more to herself than to them. “Corgis are practical. There would be no value in turning me in.”
She tried to believe it, to let the logic of it settle her nerves, but the gnawing doubt still lurked beneath the surface.
“Exactly!” Margo pulled her into a fierce hug. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Emmaline let herself lean into it, let herself believe it, just for now, just for tonight at least.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Madame? You’re needed downstairs.” The voice was unfamiliar, but the undercurrent of urgency was clear.
Ursula breathed out through her nose. “What now?”
There was a pause, then, “A representative from the Council of Alignments just arrived. They’re asking for you by name.”
Margo’s brows lifted, the tension from their earlier conversation momentarily forgotten in favor of intrigue.
Ursula’s lips quirked. “Well, well.” She stood, adjusting the fit of her leather jacket, then glanced back at Emmaline. “I suppose that means it’s time to make an entrance.”
Emmaline straightened, letting the tension drain from her limbs, grateful for the shift in focus. Ursula, ever the dramatist, could never turn down an opportunity to make an entrance. And for once, Emmaline welcomed the distraction. The rest of it could wait.
Right now, she was going to dance.
Lifting her chin, she turned toward the door with a new energy buzzing through her muscles. But it wasn’t just the music pulsing beneath her feet, its steady rhythm calling her to the dance floor. Nor was it the exhilaration of being free, or finally putting Caelith behind her.
It was anticipation, swirling low and heated, threading through her veins with the edge of something undeniable. Because if Deyric was coming tonight, he was probably already down there, waiting for her—
And she was ready to see exactly how far he would dare to go.