Page 101 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Though the wine hadn’t affected his ability to speak, the same couldn’t be said about his ability to walk. Using the wall for support, she helped him to his feet. He swayed on the spot until she took his arm and slung it around her shoulders, then guided him to the bedroom. Mavery couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d found themselves in a similar predicament. The next time she took him to bed, she hoped he would be fully present—and that it would be under better circumstances.
His orb of light, still tethered to his magic, had followed them. He made a fist, and Mavery blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. Rain spattered against the bedroom window, though with less fervor than before. It all but drowned out the soft rustle of fabric, the creaking of the bed frame.
As she began to turn away, Alain grasped her hand. Neither of them mentioned their argument about the sofa as he pulled her into bed with him. They said nothing about the Covenants as he draped his arm over her and pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his.
It had been months since she’d last shared a bed with someone in this way. Long enough to forget how much heat could radiate from another person’s skin, how that could warm her more deeply than layers of blankets. She returned his embrace, and he clung to her more tightly. She stroked his hair, and he sighed deeply as his head fell against her chest.
The rain continued as they both drifted off to sleep.
Thirty
When Mavery awoke the next morning, her first thought was that she was still dreaming. Outside, the storm had ceased. Pink clouds streaked across a steel-blue sky as the final stars blinked out of existence. Alain had rolled off her at some point during the night, but he hadn’t run off to tweak potions or practice spells. He remained beside her now, fast asleep.
She shifted onto her side and studied the contour of his profile, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the lingering wine stains upon his slightly parted lips. Whatever he was dreaming of, she doubted it had anything to do with research, or what he’d revealed to her last night.
No, this was real. And for once, he looked completely at peace. The sight alone filled her with warm levity.
Whatever she felt for him had progressed beyond friendship, beyond mere attraction. To deny that would be to deny the passage of time, the heat of the sun. But she now understood why he was reluctant to break the Covenants, why he struggled with the idea of being someone’s lover again—especially if that lover was his assistant.
Regardless of whether he felt the same about her, she wouldn’t force the matter; that would make her no different than Conor, as far as she was concerned. If Alain wanted to pursue this thingbetween them, it would be on his own terms. Until then, maybe what he needed wasn’t a lover, or even an assistant. Maybe what he needed, above all else, was a friend.
Mavery slipped out of bed, careful to avoid shifting the mattress and disturbing him. Her sleeping shift provided little protection against the cool air. She shivered as her skin prickled with gooseflesh and the frigid floorboards numbed her bare feet. She made her way into the sitting room, where she relighted the hearth and dressed herself before stepping into the kitchen.
It had been years since she’d last lived somewhere with a private kitchen, and so her cooking skills were a bit rusty. At least she could still manage to fry up eggs and toast. Tea-making, however, proved more challenging. Though she’d watched Alain countless times, she’d never gone through the preparations herself from beginning to end. From his collection of tins, she chose a dark, peppery variety that left even her unable to sit still. Alain had become immune to that side effect, but Mavery decided it couldn’t hurt; once he awoke, he would need every scrap of vitality he could get. She spooned into the teapot what she assumed was the correct amount of leaves, heated the water to what was probably the right temperature, and left it to steep while she worked on breakfast.
She had just finished frying the last of the eggs when Alain shuffled into the room, appearing close to needing another shot of resurrection serum. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “good morning,” then sank into a chair. Mavery slid a plate of food in front of him, and he gazed upon it as though it were a priceless work of art.
“You didn’t need to do all this,” he said.
“You probably know a recipe for a hangover-curing tonic, but I figured this would be more appealing.” She finished preparing her own plate, then took the chair opposite him. “Besides, I need it almost as much as you do.”
He poured himself a cup of tea, took a sip, and winced.
“It’s a tad strong,” he choked, “but I can safely say I’m awake now.”
Mavery dug into her meal with enthusiasm, breaking the golden egg yolks and sopping them up with her bread without any needfor knife and fork. Alain still managed to eat with dignity, cutting his food into bite-sized pieces.
“So, about last night,” he said hesitantly. “I remember our conversation in the storage room, but not much beyond that. Did we…?”
Mavery shook her head. “We only slept together in a literal sense, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Right, I remember now.” He gulped down another mouthful of tea. “Apologies. Last night, I crossed a boundary I shouldn’t have.”
“We both did. I’ll take the sofa going forward. Better yet, maybe I should find my own place.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, so long as my mother doesn’t come prying. She’s the traditional sort who would take issue with an unwed couple living together.” Alain froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “Er, not to imply we’re a—”
“I know what you meant.” She played it off with a laugh while her stomach fluttered. She began to take a bite of toast, then paused. “Hold on. Your mother would take issue with that? She had an affair with apriest!”
Alain shrugged. “She’s always followed a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ approach to morality.”
Mavery shook her head. She took a sip of tea and gagged. It was more than “a tad strong”; it was undrinkable. As she pushed her cup aside, Alain reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. His thumb stroked her knuckles, and Mavery was on the verge of melting into her chair. That light caress was more intoxicating than all the wine they’d shared the previous night.
“I also want to apologize for something else,” he said. “The other day, when you pressed me about the Covenants, I should have told you how I’d courted an assistant before, and that it hadn’t ended…on the most desirable terms, to say the least. But I was afraid you would judge me for what I’d done, that you would even hate me for it.”
“I could never hate you.” She turned her wrist, cradled his fingers with her own. “And I’m in no position to judge. Had your little accident happened when we first started working together,I probably would have left you for dead and run off with your money.”
He looked up, frowning. “Nonsense. You’re too good of a person to do something like that.”
