Page 14 of This Dark Descent
“Reid,” Damien called from the armchair he occupied beside an empty hearth, a book balanced in his lap. “Be kind to our guest.”
Reid scowled, but that wasn’t what made Mikira stop short; it was his clothes. Silver and white, with a lion’s head silhouette sewn into the breast.
Kelbra colors.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Mikira asked, one hand already on her knives.
“I don’t joke about clean floors,” Reid replied with such seriousness, she balked.
Damien’s lips quirked. “I don’t think she cares for your waistcoat.”
“That makes two of us,” Reid grumbled.
Damien must have seen her apprehension growing because he added, “Relax, Miss Rusel. Reid doesn’t work for the Kelbras any more than I do.”
“Then why—”
“Let me make something very clear,” he began, and Mikira felt suddenly cold. This was the voice he’d used with that guard last night, moments before he’d snapped bone. “We may be partners in this endeavor, but the rest of my house’s operations don’t involve you. When you visit, you’ll be escorted directly to my quarters or the stables. You won’t ask questions. You won’t wander. We’ll conduct our business each day and nothing more. Do you understand?”
Mikira’s nails dug into her leg, but she nodded.
Damien shifted his attention back to Reid. “Go change.”
“I’m in the middle of an experim—” Reid paused at a look from Damien, scowling, but did as he was told. He marked a page in his journal before disappearing through an open door to her right.
“You’ll have to forgive Reid his manners. I’m afraid the dead didn’t make for good company growing up,” Damien said lightly.
She blinked at him.
“He worked in a mortuary as a child,” he clarified.
Well, that certainly explained his disposition, if not the elements scattered across the desk. “And now he works for you doing, what, exactly?” she asked before realizing that might stray too close to house business.
“A little of everything.” Damien gestured at one of the armchairs that formed a crescent shape with a low-backed chaise. “Please, sit.”
“I’m okay,” she replied, her gaze catching on a series of black-and-white photographs of Damien with a gray-eyed Celairen man. In each, they stood alongside winning horses draped in flower wreaths, holding up medals from some of the city’s most famous races she longed to compete in. She’d known House Adair built their fortune on whiskey, and thatthey’d since diversified into verillion, but she hadn’t realized how successful they’d been in racing too.
Reid reappeared in the doorway, clad once more in all black, with a tiny black cat perched like a bird on his shoulder. He clutched a tray with a pearlescent teapot and cups, and the incongruence of the image made her snort.
He brushed past her and set the tray on the low table between the chaise and chairs. It was covered in stacks of books, several of which had been arranged into the same height to form an even surface. He sat down on the chaise and poured tea. She counted four cups, and only three of them.
A knock preceded a Kinnish woman’s entrance. She was tall and curvy, her damp, dark curls loose down to her waist, and she wore a simple blouse and flowing skirt. It was the angry purple bruises ringing the olive skin of her throat that really caught Mikira’s attention, though. They looked like fingerprints.
Damien closed his book, setting it aside as he stood. “Arielle, you’re just in time for tea. Are you feeling better?”
The girl’s deep brown gaze settled on Damien, narrowing in a considering way that Mikira couldn’t fathom. What about a dangerous lord made her so bloody curious? She might as well be fascinated by death.
“Much, thank you.” Arielle descended the stairs and took the seat Damien indicated to his left. She had a keen elegance to her, the kind of graceful movement that drew the eye, and not in the way Mikira did. Mikira made people uncomfortable, made them angry. Arielle made them want to look and linger.
Damien inclined his head to Mikira as he retook his seat. “This is Mikira Rusel, our sponsored Illinir jockey. Mikira, Arielle is the solution I told you about. She can create undetectable enchants.”
Mikira started. “What? How?”
He gave her a shrewd smile. “Thatis house business.”
Arielle’s dark eyes watched Mikira, her face unreadable. There wassomething tight and controlled about her, like the hammer of a gun about to snap down. Only a powerful enchanter would work for someone like Damien Adair, but to be able to create undetectable enchants? That was something else entirely.
Damien continued, “What I can tell you is that I know you race in the tunnels. I know the Kelbras want your ranch, and I know your father’s an enchanter.”
