For a long moment, I panted, staring up at the ceiling. In the dim light, the white looked gray.
I listened, straining my ears for any hint of sound. Nothing. Nothing outside the door, nothing outside the window. Just Cade’s even breathing in bed.
In, out. It was as regular as a metronome.
In, out. Too regular. Too regular for legitimate sleep.
“Are you awake?” I asked.
“Yes.” The word was a murmur.
“What’s the worst part about losing your parents?” I asked.
Cade’s breath caught, a gasp of air. No more regular in and out.
“I lost mine too,” I said. Even though that wasn’t why I’d asked.
I had spent eleven years hating him. Hating the entire House Bartlett. All of them could rot.
“Everything,” Cade said finally. “Everything is the worst part.”
That settled between us, and I thought about my life after running away from the only home I’d ever known, my siblings’ murders still visible when I closed my eyes. In a different life, I never would have gone to work for Declan. I never would have even met him.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re right. Everything is the worst part.”
“Go to sleep,” Cade said. “I’m not paying you to be tired tomorrow.”
I snorted. Somehow, the words were becoming like a mantra. As though each time he said them, he had to force himself to remember that I was only his employee.
* * *
The next time I cracked my eyes open, the sun was staining the ceiling. It revealed white paint as clean as fresh-fallen snow. Nothing blemished it.
Water was running in the bathroom, and a moment later, Cade stepped out. I blinked, sitting up quickly. It was impossible.
I never slept soundly with someone else in the room. At my old apartment, I would even wake sometimes if someone walked down the hallway to their own apartment. There was no way he had gotten up, crossed the room so close to me, and I hadn’t woken.
Standing, I stretched, rolling my shoulders and my neck. Cade watched me for a moment, a face towel in his hand. The hair at the top of his head was damp, as though he had just washed his face.
“You’re going to go with Jay today?” He dabbed at his cheek with the towel.
“Yeah. What are you going to be doing?” I asked.
“A council meeting, probably. I haven’t been summoned yet, but after last night, I’m sure I’m about to get an earful.” He walked into the closet, and I headed to the bathroom myself.
After cleaning up, I felt vaguely human again. I massaged at the base of my neck. The muscles were beginning to resemble rocks, almost audibly crunching under my fingers.
When Cade came out, he wore a fresh suit, one of his hands in his pockets. He looked me up and down, then flicked his fingers, sending droplets of black at me. They floated through the air slowly, landing on the clothes and moving across my chest and down my legs.
Frowning, I shook my head. When had I become used to magic? When was it something that I didn’t flinch away from?
Cade extended out his fingers, and the droplets of magic he had splattered on me returned.
“What’s with the Jackson Pollock magic routine?” I asked.
“A freshening up spell for the clothes,” Cade said. “As I’m not willing to sacrifice more of my wardrobe, you’re going to have to wear those clothes for the foreseeable future. We might as well make sure it doesn’tsmelllike you’re wearing the same clothes day in and day out.”
“What? You don’t like myaroma?” I made a show of sniffing under my arm. “I’ve heard I smell like one of those candles.”
