Page 79 of Librarian

A tray lands on my lap before I can leap out of bed and attack Pierce with a baldness spell. Westley makes a gallant attempt at snatching a piece of bacon but is carefully shooed away by Jasper.

I don’t notice any of it.

‘Future Mrs Kyrith Carlton’ is embroidered over my breasts in gold lettering.

Kyrith. Carlton.

I rotate my jaw, praying for patience.

This isn’t a romantic notion. No. This is a puerile taunt aimed at the rest of my men. If North or Dakari had seen it, he’d probably get the reaction he was looking for, but Jasper just hands me a glass of something bright red and fizzing.

“Eat up. We’ll get Pierce back later.”

“Let me guess, with a shirt that says, ‘Future Mrs Kyrith McKinley’?” I grouse.

“I mean, I’m nae opposed, but I think ‘Future Mr Jasper Childerhouse’ sounds better.”

I choke on my drink.

He raises a single brow at my surprise. “Dinnae act shy now. You’re the one who put a ring on it.” His grin and pointed head tilt in the direction of his crotch lighten my hangover almost aswell as the mouthful of sausage and potato. “I’d say we’re pretty committed.”

I hum under my breath, cheeks heating as I scold myself for wishing he’d delivered breakfast wearing nothing but the cage.

My head throbs again, and I rethink that position.

“Indeed,” I splutter. “I don’t suppose you have a hangover scrap?”

He reaches over and taps the tray. “Way ahead of you, lass.”

I didn’t notice the tiny piece of paper before, but I grab it gratefully now, funnelling power into it until it burns away. When the grogginess has passed, I take another mouthful of food, then glance at the clock.

It’s three in the afternoon.

Oh stars, I am never drinking again. “I’ve wasted an entire day in bed.”

Jasper is about to reply, but a loud whoop comes from the corridor, cutting him off.

“Congrats, bro! That’s awesome!” Lambert’s voice cuts through the door so clearly he might as well have been right next to me.

Thank goodness I used the scrapbeforehe forgot what a reasonable human volume sounded like.

Whoever responds is inaudible, but Lambert whoops all over again.

“We’ve got to get cake. No more booze for you, though. Not after last night.” The door handle turns. “Boss! Guess what—No, wait. You tell her.”

Leo’s sigh is distinct this time. “Lambert?—”

The man himself bursts into the room, dragging Leo by the lapel of his long woollen coat. Magic. He’s bouncing again.

“Tell her. She’ll be impressed.”

Leo shrugs out of his brother’s hold, clearing his throat as he looks anywhere but at me. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Tell me what?” I ask, curious despite myself.

Lambert is still rocking on the balls of his feet. I haven’t seen him do that since we lost the Arcanaeum.

In contrast, Leo is much more reserved as he holds out a piece of paper.