I froze. “Oh shit. Is this a disability thing? Do you have chronic pain or something?” I hadn’t noticed a limp, but I hadn’t been looking for one.
“No, I just thought it was important to note.”
I stopped outside the suite door. “You’re right. I’m a loud and proud asshole, but not about the things that count. It just seems like teleporting costs you more energy than walking.”
He stared at me quietly for a moment, then nodded once. “It does. I’ll walk from now on, unless it’s an emergency.”
“So … no more panic-teleporting?”
He ignored the question and said, “I’d like to get changed.”
“Right, of course.” I opened the suite door and guided him to my bedroom. “Pick out whatever fits best.” Then I closed the door to give him privacy. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone with my things, but if he planned to steal anything, he would have already taken what he wanted and teleported away. Whatever had brought him here—a damsel in distress, an evil plot, a curse that had stuck us all in a loop—I doubted it involved petty theft.
“How is he?” Kit asked.
“He’s an idiot,” I replied blandly and joined them on the couch.
“Teleported again?”
I nodded.
Kit sighed. “He’s going to be a handful.”
“You’ve already taken him under your wing,” Father said. He’d brought work with him and spread several files out over a table.
Kit cocked their head to the side. “I don’t think he’s ever had anyone take care of him before.”
The door opened and Wilde stepped out. He’d only taken a simple white shirt and a pair of dark blue pants, avoiding the more colorful options of my wardrobe. The shirt sleeves were rolled up into thick bunches, exposing his forearms, and the pants were tucked into his boots. The fabric bulged out the side, too much excess to contain.
I said goodbye to my fathers and Kit and joined Wilde. Together, we walked to the meeting, taking it slow even though we were late.
Chapter Nineteen: Wilde
A Short Walk Later
Fitz’s Private Residence
Quest Planning
Fitz looked up from his book as the door opened. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, like they always did, and he adjusted them with a quick, unconscious push. “Excellent, that’s the last of them.”
Delilah waved enthusiastically at me, gesturing for me to sit with her on the couch. I eyed the empty space next to her warily, wondering what she wanted to say. I should have joined her, gotten it over with. Instead, I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms as I surveyed the room.
Maximus’ gaze shifted between Trey and I, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Anger? Jealousy? Whatever he felt, he didn’t have a right to it. Like a lovesick pup, he’d followed Trey around on their first quest and snapped at me with pointy little teeth if I got too close. Yet when it mattered most—when Trey was in danger—Maximus failed to protect him. He hadn’t even been one of the people who ran forward to help. He’d simply stood frozen, his hands uselessly raised, and watched the scene unfold in shock.
Of the royal champions, only Angelica didn’t register our entrance. She focused on her book so completely that when Fitz cleared his throat, she jumped. The book went flying from her hands, hitting Delilah in the head.
“Ow!” Delilah turned around and hissed at Angelica, lips pulling back from her dull teeth. “You did that on purpose!”
“I didn’t,” Angelica insisted, scrambling to her feet to retrieve the book.
Delilah snatched it up first, her brow furrowed in confusion as she read the title. “Why are you reading about orcs?”
Angelica froze, then carefully adjusted her posture, shoulders back and hands folded demurely in front of her. “If we’re going to fight an evil mage, we should familiarize ourselves with his minions.”
“Good point,” Fitz said, scribbling a note. “We’ll need to make a list of potential opponents and determine their weaknesses.”
Delilah turned the book this way and that, examining the title first, then opening to another page. “But this isn’t research, this is aromance.”
