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The dark-haired woman gathered the papers from her lap.

“You’ll have to forgive Tone. She was raised by wolves.”

“That’s not true,” Marigold said without looking up from her drawing.

The woman on the sofa lifted an eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

“My mother would scare wolves.”

A laugh pressed against my lips. I tried to hold it back, but the smile came anyway.

The dark-haired woman rose. “I’m Samira.”

She was beautiful in a quiet, unstudied way. Thick dark hair had been pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and several strands had escaped around her face. Her eyes lingered on mine with calm attention, taking in the exhaustion, and whatever else I failed to hide. She crossed the room and offered her hand.

“Adriana.”

Her grip was warm and firm. Samira gestured toward the woman still settled into the sofa.

“That’s Izzy.”

Izzy raised her teacup in greeting.

“I would stand, but I've only just found a position in which none of my organs feel crushed. I fear that if I move, I may never find it again.”

Her free hand settled over the heavy curve of her stomach. She looked so close to giving birth that I found myself wondering whether there were towels and boiling water hidden somewhere nearby.

“You were raised better than this,” Samira teased.

“I married Raze. Whatever manners I once possessed died during the first year.”

Samira released my hand and indicated the empty armchair near the fire.

“Please sit.”

I lowered myself into the chair.

The moment my weight settled against the cushions, exhaustion came down on me with the force of a collapsing wall. My shoulders dropped. My legs became heavy. I had spent so long forcing myself to remain alert that I had forgotten how much strength it required.

My gaze drifted toward the closed door.

Demitri remained downstairs with the men.

Samira followed my attention.

“So,” she coaxed, “what is he like?”

I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to find someone behind me. No one was there.

Samira’s mouth curved.

“She means DeMarco,” Izzy corrected.

“You probably know more about him than I do.” I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the armrest. “I only met him a week ago.”

Izzy studied me over the rim of her cup. “That’s still a week more than we’ve had.”