Page 62 of Fallen Court

Étienne bent his head to Roark. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course.” My penumbra inclined his own. “We’ll look into it.”

The vampire strode gracefully from the room, taking the last remnants of tension with him.

“What did he want?” I asked Roark when he was gone.

“Our assistance,” Roark said through gritted teeth. Or maybe not all the tension. “If you took the signet back from Ciara, you wouldn’t have to ask me for details.”

“I’ll pass.” I’d maintained my poker face during the meeting, but I had my own reservations about the strength of the bona fides spell. Ciara needed to be prepared to take the throne. Roark needed to accept that. It meant working on their relationship, whether they liked it or not.

He raked a hand through his hair. Symbols blinked over his knuckles as his eyes narrowed. “A witch is missing from First Parish. Thalia. No one has seen her for two days. She was a friend of Corinne’s—Étienne thinks that’s why she was so worked up at the meeting.”

“She’s always that worked up.” But I frowned at the news. “Do they have reason to be worried?”

Roark chewed on his lip ring for a second. “With the bona fides in place, they know she can’t have left the city, but no one can locate her.”

The last thing we needed was more friction between the covens. “Have our people make a sweep. It’s probably nothing.”

But these days, nothing was ever simple in New Orleans.

“I think it actually went well,” Roark said as we stepped into the lobby.

I snorted, not feeling an ounce of amusement. “Compared to what?”

He held up his hand, ticking off a list on his fingers. “No blood. No bodies.”

“What a standard we’re setting.” I nodded to a group of passing guests. It was strange to see humans back in the Avalon, but we couldn’t keep it locked down forever. Every choice we made was a message to both those outside the city and those inside it.

The Gage family was still in control. We weren’t ruffled. We weren’t afraid. It was the same bloody business we’d always handled.

Roark fell silent as they passed.

Even without the signet ring connecting us, I knew something weighed on his mind. “Out with it.”

“Have you told her?” he asked.

“What?”

He crossed his arms, the fabric of his jacket straining like it was trying to stay in check—and near failing. Roark lowered his voice so no one could hear us over the usual noise of the lobby. “What will happen if you can’t return to the Otherworld? What happens if she doesn’t return?”

I knew what he was implying. “That’s a touchy subject at the moment.”

“You can’t stay here forever, Lach, and neither can she,” he added quietly.

I knew that, but knowing it didn’t mean I could change anything. “It’s a moot point until we find a way around the memento mori.” I drew a breath so deep that it burned my lungs. “Besides, I’m not sure she wants any part of our world.”

Roark shook his head. “She wants you, and you belong in the Otherworld.” He pointed around the gleaming marble of the hotel. “Not this one.”

We stood in silence, neither of us quite knowing what the other was thinking for the first time in our lives.

“Need to blow off some steam?” he asked.

I huffed. “What do you think?”

“Want to shoot something?”

Or maybe he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Oh gods, yes.”