Page 33 of Untraceable
Amori was dipping and slurping, and she looked at him warily. “You don’t have to eat the whole thing. It’s equivalent to two loaves of bread.”
He nodded. “Fine, but I am taking it with me.”
Heyval put her hand on his shoulder. “Eat a meat pie first. There are vegetables in it.”
He grinned. “You care.”
“I can’t stand to watch a man kill himself with carbs and cholesterol this close to his birthday.”
He grinned. “You care.”
“Only about not being labelled as part of your cause of death.”
The chef laughed, and when Amori looked over with narrowed eyes, the cooks vanished.
“So, you get weird about food frequently?”
“No, but they know when to take a break.”
She caught on. “Oh, you have ladies in the kitchen.”
He winced. “I hadn’t thought about it, but it isn’t the kind of thing I should be bragging about.”
“Nope. Definitely not.” She shrugged. “Well, not if you expect me to sleep with you again. It kind of leaves me cold.”
Amori frowned and put the bread down. He reached for her, and she jumped back.
“Your Majesty, your hands are covered with butter, and this is all I have to wear unless I go home and get something.”
He paused and looked at his shining fingers. “Oh. I will ask my assistant to get you something.”
“I don’t need to bother him.
“Her. Hang on. She’s coming.”
A slow and sedate clicking of thick heels approached. An older woman, who appeared to be in her fifties, walked into the space, and Heyval felt her breath rush out of her lungs.
“Heyval, this is my assistant, Miss Azila. Miss Azila, this is my intended, Heyval.”
The woman had silvery hair in a tight bun, black eyes, and a fit body encased in a grey suit. She carried a tablet, and the discrete outline of a phone was poking out of her pocket. What came as a shock were the magical restraint bands around the woman’s wrists, ankles, and neck.
The woman looked at Heyval and smiled slightly. “Very nice to meet you, miss.”
The king said, “Azila, please outfit Heyval with a complete wardrobe.”
“Of course. Formal gown for your party?”
“Definitely.”
“Can I take her out, or do you want all arrangements executed here?” The woman had her tablet up and was typing with one hand.
“Here, please. She’s being stalked with a death sentence.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. This would be the necromancer, then.”
Heyval blinked. “Yes. I am.”
Azila nodded. “Good. Do you have time to come with me?”
