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“Obviously.” I clean my brushes, thankful for the apron that kept me from smearing paint everywhere on my skin and clothes. “I’ll finish up here and decide what to do with the rest of the night.”
“If you need me, ring the cow bell,” she says. Yes, she has dedicated a giant cow bell painted pink, with Mutter Udder Maniacs along the side, as my official way to call for servants. The fact that anyone seems happy to come with food or bring clean towels or talk romance novels with me still makes me giddy.
“Thanks Bess.”
“You can’t leave without saying goodbye.” She stares at her hooves as though refusing to consider the possibility. “I meet the deliveries whenever the portal opens, so I’ll have a last chance to convince you to stay.” With that, she clip-clops away before I can say a word.
I sketch and putter until it becomes obvious that Leander isn’t coming on our last night together. Bess’s suggestion about sleeping in my room circles in my brain, but I refuse to hide. If he wants me to go, he can just say so himself. At least I can leave without wishing I had done more. I glance at Oggie, who’s curled on my pillow. “You coming?”
He blinks back at me and settles beneath his outstretched wing.
Fine. Everyone’s finished with me, it seems.
“Okay,” I tell him, like his dismissal’s no big deal. “Just scratch at the passageway door if you need us.”
I head toward Leander’s suite, which would fit my entire apartment and part of my mom’s. The doorway dwarfs me, although it fits Leander and his horns without him having to stoop or angle. Dim lights fall onto the hallway floor, and I figure he hasn’t come back yet from whatever court business has kept him busy, except I can hear his voice—low and clipped. It’s a voice for secrets.
“You know that Meg goes home tomorrow,” he says. “The deal’s done. Magic’s back and our obligation’s finished.”
My stomach goes sour and my head woozy. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but it’s hard not to when I’m the topic of discussion. Worse, who is Leander talking to when he’s so coldly discussing me?
I can’t hear the other person. Just my minotaur—no, he’s not my anything if he considers our contract to be over. Pressing into the wall, I inch closer to the doorway, staying quiet except for my pounding heart.
“Of course I’ve thought about what to do afterward,” he says. “In the few days since the return of my magic, I contacted over a hundred different realms. Some through official channels, others through spies. I’ve barely seen my mate.”
Some of the tension eases out of my chest. I’m his mate. He hasn’t said so in those exact words, but with the magic and everything that has happened, I must be, right? A second later, he speaks again.
“She’s in her tower. Where else would she be?”
Her tower? What the heck’s he talking about? I’ve never been in the tower. Is there more than one tower, because I’ve only heard of the workshop where Belaya lives? Belaya. My heart sinks, and my breath stutters and stalls. Belaya is his mate? Then what am I?
I should stay and demand that he give me answers, but I need a minute. Hell, I need a stiff drink. I move away, unwilling to confront him until I get myself together and have a plan—other than screaming, throwing things, and having a toddler-worthy tantrum.
Rounding the corner to the great hall, I crash into Darnell, who looks like he hasn’t slept since the market. He drops a goblet of what smells like sacred wine on the floor, and it puddles beneath my feet.
“Sorry,” I say and crouch down to pick up the empty metal cup.
Seriously, the wine on the ground has the same scent and color as the stuff Leander licked off my skin. Here I thought it’d been something special. So much for sacred.
“Whoa, Meg.” Darnell’s horrible breath reeks, and spit droplets land on my cheek. Gross. The warlock’s eyes could double for a road map app. “Don’t be in such a hurry.” His slur makes the last hard to decipher, but I’m glad when he staggers off toward the kitchens.
Setting his empty goblet on a nearby table, I go in search of something to mop up the spill. The castle staff work more than their share. The least I can do is help Bess and the others while figuring out what to say to Leander. Plus, cleaning distracts me, and I definitely need that right now.
The closest supply closet is at the base of the stairs leading to the tower, just a few steps away. I grab a bucket from the shelves, but water sloshes out, leaving the floor and me a filthy, dripping mess. Great. Where are the sorcerer’s dancing brooms when I need them? Instead, I look like the unlucky Cinderella who swam a moat to the castle instead of taking a queen’s chariot or portal or whatever.
“Get lost on your way back to your world?”
While I don’t recognize the feminine voice, I know that nasty-nice tone. I’ve heard it in countless school hallways and bathrooms. It has the cut of my ex’s cruelty, delivered with the precision of a practiced bully.
Belaya. She’s hauntingly beautiful up close, with pale blue skin, wide dark eyes, pointed ears, and the body of a runway model.
I could hide in my room until Theo comes, tell myself that two weeks in another realm had never been my plan, that my heart will heal from the hurt Leander has caused. But I’ve done that before, and what did it get me? Nothing but the loss of hard work and a year’s worth of game creations to put a little cash in Dirk’s pockets. I took off after finding my ex with another woman. Now I might be the other woman. I need to know.
“You and Leander?” I almost stutter on his name. “Are you…” Involved? Screwing? Engaged in an open, inter-dimensional relationship?
“We’re mates,” she says. “Committed to each other for centuries. Ever since he rescued me from my devastated world. I would’ve died alongside my family if he hadn’t loved me enough to risk crossing into my fallen realm to save me.”
No. While she sounds sincere, I’ve been lied to by the best. “Riiight, that’s why he signed a deal with a demon to bring me to his world. Because you two are the perfect couple.”
