Page 62 of Fae Farewells

I jumped back to my feet, pacing the room to burn some energy. Being cooped up was leaving me with too much time to wander mentally. If I were eavesdropping on thoughts, then I might be better occupied. But there were only so many fae in the palace, and their minds were depressing.

Stone and Palmer were slowly driving me insane. Their quiet intensity was a miserable boredom that made me want to scream.

How had they lived together for months and not spoken when they were in the same room? The demon was just a quiet fucker; that was easy to understand. The mage wasn’t, unless he was reading. And even then, he’d stop mid-page to explain shit no one cared about except the sad sap who wrote the book and him.

All I wanted to do was talk to fill the looming, suffocating silence. But no. I got left in a luxury prison with the only two assholes I knew who could avoid my conversation starters.

“How many people do you think she’ll kill while we’re here?”

“Three,” Stone grumbled without opening his eyes.

Palmer grunted in agreement.

“It’s usually the wolf who grunts,” I commented. “Don’t you have a guess, Mage?”

“I was so close to dozing off,” he complained, glaring at me from the dainty sofa. “Could you shut the fuck up for like—”

Knuckles rapped against the double doors to our suite, and the three of us froze before glancing at each other.

“Who is it?” Stone questioned in a whisper.

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Read their minds.” He stood from the armchair, prowling closer to the door. “It’s not like you have any issues with privacy.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m trying to understand Trouble’s views on unsuspecting strangers’ privacy when it comes to the thoughts they’re practically shouting—”

“Novak?” Palmer interrupted, widening his eyes like I was missing the point.

“What?”

“Who is knocking on the door?” he slowly enunciated.

“Why do you assume I know who’s on the other side? I didn’t invite anyone.”

Stone growled in frustration as he snatched the door open. “What?”

His attitude was met with a feminine giggle that most definitely did not belong to Sloane. Or Vaughn’s sisters. And I highly doubted the maid would laugh at him in such a flirty tone.

“Who is it?” Palmer asked, sitting up to peer around the back of the sofa.

“No one who should be visiting us,” I mumbled under my breath.

“I think you have the wrong room,” Stone politely told the woman in a voice that sounded way too professional for a demon… But not a dentist.

Was this the elusive customer service demon? Did he actually have a bedside manner?

A purple hand extended beyond the doorway, held in that weird position that signals they want you to kiss the top of said hand instead of removing it.

Gods. Where was Trouble?

I needed someone around who would appreciate my commentary. I could think of other things to do if she were here, but my standards were dropping every minute they ignored my sarcasm and humor.

“A gift from your prince,” purred a slightly English accent.

Stone snorted with laughter as soon as she finished her sentence. Palmer cackled like a lunatic, his head tipping back to hit the arm of the sofa as he wiped imaginary tears from his eyes.

And I suddenly realized I wasn’t as bored as I thought I was. I certainly was not bored enough to invite strangers into this suite. The suite the queen had so graciously tried to lock us in while she figured out what to do about the rightful ruler of the realm coming home for a quick visit to fuck shit up.