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Valentin’s eyes burn. ‘Then we visit him.’
‘Sire,’ Gideon says carefully, ‘Rowan requested you remain within the Tower until she finishes the first diagnostic ritual.’
Valentin smiles. It is a beautiful, terrible thing. ‘Rowan requests many things she has no right to request.’
I push the tray away and swing my legs over the side of the bed. ‘If you’re going, I’m coming too.’
Both men look at me.
Valentin’s expression is immediate thunder. ‘No.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘You nearly bled to death hours ago.’
I shrug. ‘And now I’ve had soup.’
Gideon’s mouth does something heroic in its attempt not to react.
Valentin steps closer. ‘Eira.’
I lift my chin. ‘Selphine is connected to this. Tavish, one of the men directly connected to Tezra’s death, is connected to this. I sure as hells am connected to this, whether you like it or not. If Orlan Vey knows where those roads meet, I need to hear it. Unless you plan to throw me into the dungeon again?’
His gaze burns as it holds mine.
Oops, too soon?
Low fucking blow, little hunter.
Through the bond, quieter, rougher, I feel his exasperation as he says, You should be resting.
And you should be consulting Rowan instead of chasing warlocks with cheekbones and rage issues.
His eyes narrow. Cheekbones?
Focus, vampire.
The faintest flicker crosses his mouth.
Then Gideon, wisely pretending not to notice the silent exchange, says, ‘We’ve already placed surveillance around Vey’s townhouse. Iskander and Cassian are preparing transport routes. Luca asked whether he remains permitted to kill things, provided he asks politely first.’
Despite everything, I snort.
Valentin does not. ‘Tell Luca restraint will be rewarded.’
Gideon nods. ‘He will find that disappointing.’
‘Good.’
Gideon leaves with the efficiency of a man delighted to escape before nudity, violence, or both resume.
The door closes. Valentin and I stare at each other.
The Heartshard Glass pulses once behind him, red light crawling through its broken veins.
‘Orlan Vey,’ I say.
‘Selphine Rousseau,’ Valentin replies.
