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“That decision is not yours to make, Elizabeth.”
“Stop calling me Elizabeth, Mother. I’m not five, and I’ve done nothing wrong. But if you try and move Alex out of here, I just might. We’re going to have a problem.”
Her mother sipped her wine. “You mean this isn’t already a problem?”
“She’s my friend.”
“You deserve better. You always have.”
Lila stood up again and slowly pushed her chair under the table. “You’ve said what you wanted to say, madam. I do not wish to keep the High Council waiting.”
She turned toward the door and heard the clack of high heels dashing forward.
“Ms. Wilson, stand at your place,” her mother snapped as Lila retreated from the room.
Chapter 18
Lila’s stomach growled as she drove her roadster through downtown New Bristol, its street lamps bright, its lowborn crowd well dressed in tailored suits and tailored dresses, its storefronts clean and inviting. After her mother’s lecture, she’d gone back to her room in an attempt to quell her rumbling belly, inhaling a few of Chef’s cookies and a chunk of fudge.
Obviously, it hadn’t been enough.
Her stomach protested again.
“Shut up,” she grumbled, tapping on the roadster’s steering wheel as she stopped at a light, eyeing a burger joint on the corner with a silly, fries-shaped neon sign and feasting patrons. She could have stopped at the militia cafeteria before she left, but she hated the idea of the chairwoman smirking at reports that she’d eaten somewhere else after storming out.
She’d been right to leave. Her mother shouldn’t have attacked Alex, for her old friend had nothing to do with her family’s crimes, nor was it fair when the slave couldn’t defend herself without risking her master’s wrath. Besides, her mother had no idea what Lila had done to deserve Alex’s treatment. Regardless of whether Alex had been happy to help, it had been wrong to ask her friend to betray her family.
She hadn’t been thinking. She’d merely wanted to solve the case.
When the light changed, Lila breezed through the intersection and sped to Bullstow. She parked her roadster in her usual spot and padded through the back door of the High Council wing. No senators lingered, hoping to flirt their way into a season.
What a shame. She’d spent practically the entire day with Tristan, and still he demanded more of her time. It didn’t matter that she wanted to return to the shop instead of going to Bullstow, to slip back into his bed, to call out his name while his tongue and cock worked at her for hours, while they curled up together and fell asleep, hot and sticky and spent.
Lila shook her head. The entire situation was too much. She needed to take another lover or else her feelings for Tristan might spiral out of control.
She had to pull her head out of her pants. Soon.
Lila opened the door to the High Council chambers. The three women inside looked up, tilted their heads curiously, then checked their palms.
“What happened?” Johanna asked, showing her device to Lila. Large digital numbers blinked back. Six thirty-five. “You’re never early. You’re rarely even on time. Did the empire’s hell freeze over?”
Chairwoman Masson giggled, then cleared her throat. “Sorry, chief, she does have a point. Not that you’re late all the—”
Lila rolled her eyes and turned around, leaving the building once again. Twenty-five minutes might not be enough time to beg dinner from her father at Falcon Home, but it was enough time to stop at a café for a bagel and hot chocolate.
She’d probably be late, but apparently everyone expected it.
Screw the council.
Lila stumbled into Rosebuds, a café across the street filled with simple oak tables and benches under a hundred twinkling lights in the ceiling. They were set to simulate starlight, only bright enough to capture the text on a book or a palm or a laptop. She ordered a bagel and cream cheese and sipped at a mug of hot chocolate while groups of students studied. Their burgundy jackets had been embroidered with golden roses, their breeches slightly wrinkled from their day at school. Most had not a hair out of place, even so late in the afternoon, even as they puzzled over texts and papers.
These students were serious. These students aimed for the Saxony Senate, for Unity, for the prime minister’s chair.
These students aimed to partner with women like her.
It didn’t take long for the bravest boy to wander toward her, a boy who couldn’t have been older than seventeen with his baby cheeks and smooth chin. She’d wanted a senator to take her mind off Tristan, not a boy who couldn’t shave yet.
She shook her head and pointed back at his chair.
