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She would have to find out more.
Later.
He might have bumbled his pursuit for a reason.
Unfortunately, Mr. Nottingham would have to wait. Lila had other matters to attend to.
Chapter 11
Lila woke to a staccato knock at the door. She groaned and curled deeper under her crimson blankets and sheets, covering her head with her pillow as Isabel entered. Fresh linens filled her arms, and the newly risen sun peeked through the drapes.
“Sorry, madam,” Isabel squeaked as she took in the bed and the person still sleeping in it. She da
rted from the room and nearly slammed the door.
Lila peeked out from under the pillow, far too late to catch a peek of red hair.
Alex wouldn’t have retreated. She would have come in, shaking Lila awake and telling her to get out of bed like a grown woman, asking her why she’d slept in.
She would have wanted gossip.
She would have demanded it.
Unfortunately, Alex would never speak to her again, not after last night. If someone forced the slave to do so, she’d become a bitter, angry version of Maria, only saying yes, no, sorry, and thank you. She’d keep her hands busy, eyes burning, throat choking on the words.
Lila patted the bed, searching for her palm. Eight o’clock had come far too early. She should have left for the security office half an hour before, but she’d been researching until half past three.
Barely awake, Lila crawled from between the sheets, checking her messages as she stumbled into the bathroom. Instead of looking at her new messages, she opened the ones she’d already memorized. The ones from Tristan. The first asked her what she wanted for dinner, the second asked when she’d be coming over, the third asked if she’d come over at all.
The last, sent at one in the morning, said that he’d missed her.
It was a lot coming from him.
It was too much, coming from someone who wouldn’t even have sex with her. He was playing some sort of game, and the game was growing old.
Lila hadn’t responded to the messages, especially the last one. At first because she feared she might drive to Shippers Lane as soon as he asked, and then later because the last message had confounded her and twisted her stomach all at the same time. Part of her had grinned when she read it, and wanted to return the sentiment. The other part, the highborn part, had been annoyed with the entire thing. She needed to take another lover, or she’d get too attached. Perhaps she already was. After all, the first thing she’d done when she woke up was grab her palm to see if he’d sent her anything else.
That wasn’t her, and it wasn’t highborn behavior.
Not only that, but the oracle’s words had unnerved her.
Sighing, she cycled through the rest of her messages. Nothing of value had come in from her spies, but Reaper’s partner had not been silent. Prolix, I waited all day for you to reply. Perhaps you aren’t taking me seriously because I haven’t asked for anything? I could, you know. I could ask, and you’d have to dance.
Lila dropped her palm onto her bed and threw on a militia tank, workout pants, and stretchy gloves, wincing at the blotches of purple on her shin and arms. Then she trudged downstairs.
She left her palm behind.
Isabel bowed at the entryway. “Chief Randolph, I apologize for—”
“It happens, Isabel. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Thank you, madam.” She smoothed her hair behind her ear, blush fading. “The chairwoman has requested your presence at breakfast.”
“Damn it to…” Lila rubbed her sleep-filled eyes, too tired to finish her rant. “Why? When? And who’s suffering with me?”
“The prime minister is in residence this morning. I believe Pax will be joining you as well. Your matron wishes the family to breakfast together in one hour.”
“Where’s Jewel?”
