Page 62 of Thief of Night
“Rough night?” she asked.
A flush of heat spread up Charlie’s neck. She looked an absolute mess. “I thought you… well, it doesn’t matter. Adeline kindly let us spend the night, but—”
Fiona frowned. “It’shishouse.”
That stopped Charlie. “What?”
“It’s in Salt’s will. Remy inherits the mansion. You can hardly call it kind to let him sleep in his own house.”
Charlie glanced at Red, but she couldn’t tell whether he’d known that. His face was so empty of expression that it was starting to scare her.
“I think we can find you something better thanthatto wear.” Fiona’s gaze went over Charlie’s pajamas, the coat long enough to drag on the ground, and the comically oversized boots. “Then we can all have brunch.”
“I should—we have to leave.” Charlie’s skin itched to get out of there. She needed to talk to Red. She needed togo.
Fiona’s half-smile didn’t flag. “Not looking like that. Come, we can get you some coffee and food, then you can go directly to wherever you’re going.” She turned to Red. “You ought to change as well. That shirt is wrinkled.”
Charlie opened her mouth to insist on departing, then closed it again. She’d been playing defense ever since she became the Hierophant. Defense against Mr. Punch and the Cabals, defense against Adeline. Trying to stall them or appease them long enough for her to find an angle.
None of that played to Charlie’s strengths. All she knew how to do was lie, trick, and steal her way into getting what she wanted. And maybe she couldn’t do that here exactly, but Fiona Carver was rich, had information they didn’t, and desperately wanted something. All that made her an excellent mark.
A slow smile tugged at the corners of Charlie’s mouth. “What a generous offer. I’d love to borrow some clothes and eat with you.”
Red turned toward her, violence in his eyes. “I need to talk to Charlie.”
Fiona urged her toward the stairs. “You two can discuss things on the way to brunch. I assume you’ll be taking your own car.”
“Now,” he snapped. “I need to talk with hernow.”
Fiona took a step away at the vehemence in his voice. “Then I’ll just go upstairs and lay out some clothes. Don’t be long.”
They listened for her retreating footsteps.
Red turned his gaze, staring at the wall behind Charlie as though he was considering putting a fist through it. “I understand why you’re angry with me. Last night was all my fault, but please don’t take out your feelings on Fiona. Please.”
“Your fault?” Charlie scowled at him, incredulous. “I don’t see how that’s possible. You weren’t the one who drank two gallons of bourbon, fell off her barstool, and punched some trust fund kid. Though you might have been tempted. He had a very punchable face.”
The minute lift at the corner of his mouth was practically a confession, but he shook his head and it fell away. “I am in the habit of obedience. I didn’t realize that it was up to me to get us out of last night until, well, until you sent me from that room moments ago. But that doesn’t mean it was any less my fault.”
She couldn’t agree, but she was immensely relieved that the anger in his face hadn’t been for her. She worried it was for himself, though. “How am I supposed to fight with you, if you’re going to just roll over and show me your soft belly?”
His shoulders relaxed a little. “If anyone could find a way, it would be you.”
“Ouch.” Charlie said, playing along. Then she glanced up the stairs. “But I still think we should go to brunch.”
“What? Why?” There was despair in his face. “I am not who she wants me to be.”
You’re close enough,part of her wanted to say, but not everything ought to be a con. Love, she supposed, shouldn’t. “Why is Adeline letting Fiona stay here?”
“I don’t kno—” He stopped himself. “Oh. Because it’s my house.”
“You had no idea, did you? What else does Fiona know that we don’t?” Charlie asked. “Look, my head is killing me. I need coffee and aspirin and bacon fat before I am going to be even moderately able to face the day. Two birds. One stone.”
“What are you planning?” he asked.
“To get out of these pajamas and mainline caffeine.” Charlie shrugged. “But if you don’t want to spend time with Fiona…”
He sighed, looking up the stairs. “Of course I want to go. But I shouldn’t. She’s not my family. Nothing good will come of it.”
