Page 57 of Magic Forsaken

I sucked in a quick, shocked breath. He’d said those words so easily—to someone he barely knew—and with no idea of the pitfalls they entailed. No idea of what my secrets could do to him.

“Why?” I whispered. “Why do you trust me?”

“I’m not sure I know the answer to that.” He didn’t look nearly disturbed enough by his own lack of certainty. “I still believe what I told you yesterday. You’re a protector. But I don’t know what you would die to protect. And that should bother me, but…” He shrugged. “For right now, I have a murderer to find and a Symposium to host. Are you still willing to help me?”

I knew the answer, as clearly as I knew that it was going to hurt me in the end.

“Yes.” I sighed. Tilted my head back and stared at the sky for a moment before looking back at the unbearably handsome king of the shifters. “I only hope you won’t end up regretting this.”

“I won’t.” He sounded so sure.

But the pain in my chest did not ease, because I knew. I would eventually disappoint him, and he would regret ever laying eyes on me.

It was only a matter of time.

THIRTEEN

Despite this tentativenew accord between us, over the next ten days, I saw less of Callum and more of his team as the Symposium inched ever closer. They put me to work on basic, menial tasks, while trying desperately to fill in the gaps in my knowledge—of the upcoming schedule, the guests who would be attending the Symposium, the state of Idrian politics, and most especially the correct way to comport myself as a part of the shapeshifter entourage.

I won’t say they were entirely successful, but I did receive an eye-opening education, along with a disturbing number of new clothes.

Mostly my uniforms were dark and unobtrusive, but also elegant, perfectly tailored, and weirdly comfortable to wear. I absolutely refused to walk around in heels on a daily basis, so after a good bit of frustrated arguing, Angelica agreed to a pair of obscenely expensive boots that I loved with an unreserved passion.

The executive assistant continued to be the Idrian version of nails on a chalkboard—though extremely efficient and capable—while Magnus seemed determined not to possess a personality, and Heather hovered behind them both in a near permanentstate of apologetic anxiety. We ended up working together quite a few times, and I started to feel a little bad for her—she was so nervous that she tended to drop things and forget details, but she was kind to me, always offered to bring me coffee, and even complimented my outfits, despite the fact that they looked nearly identical every day.

The renovations on The Assemblage continued, and by the end of the first week, began to look nearly complete. Round the clock security guards had prevented any further sabotage, though the mustached human officer—whose name, I discovered, was Kevin—still appeared utterly convinced that I was guilty of something, and glared at me with unreserved suspicion every time our eyes met.

Typically, I stuck to smiling smugly and waving my badge as I walked by each day on my way to the team office, but eventually, I decided the situation required more of a plan.

On Wednesday morning, all of us were called into work early. The first delegates had begun to arrive, and it was all hands on deck to ensure that everything was ready for them.

I made sure to get there even earlier and pounced on Heather before she could carry everyone’s coffee inside. She probably thought I was crazy, but handed me my cup without argument. I thanked her, and carried it around to the main entrance where Kevin stood, huddled in his jacket, mustache bristling fiercely.

The mornings had grown crisp and cold, so it had to be unpleasant to stand out there for hours.

“Good morning,” I called cheerfully, strolling up with my hands wrapped around the paper cup in its cardboard sleeve. “Chilly out here, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you’d like some coffee?”

He would. I saw his eyes dart to the cup, but they darted back as he scowled at me. “Petty bribery is an insult to my profession,” he announced sternly. “ID badge please, Miss.”

“Of course,” I responded pleasantly, pulling out my badge and showing it to him. “And it’s not a bribe. It’s for you.” I held it out alongside my badge.

He glanced from one to the other, trying to find the trick.

“Oh, ouch, it’s kind of hot…” I released my grip just a little and he instinctively reached out to take the cup from me.

I smiled sweetly. “Enjoy.”

And then I hurried inside to watch the fun through the window.

Sure enough, he stood there for a few minutes, just holding the cup, alternating between glaring at it and looking around as if afraid someone might be watching. He would shift it from hand to hand as if warming them up, then look annoyed at himself.

Eventually, he pried off the lid and took a cautious sniff of the contents. Put the lid back on. Lowered the cup, then lifted it to eye level.

“Care to tell me exactly what’s so fascinating about watching our security guard drink coffee?”

I jumped a mile in the air and whirled around to face my boss.

I hadn’t seen much of him in the last week—he’d been working what seemed like sixteen hours a day between meetings and phone calls—and I’d almost begun to wonder whether he was deliberately avoiding me.

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