on the feel of her belly under his palm, the soft skin on the inside of her thigh under his tongue.
“Friends,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She nodded. “Good. I’ll see you inside.”
She turned and headed up the walkway, leaving him on the pavement, the only time in his life he’d stood with his heart in his hands.
Twenty
Walking away from him was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do, which was to stand on tiptoe, wrap her arms around his neck, press her body against his, and kiss him in full view of anyone who happened to pass by.
But she kept moving, willing her feet away from him until she was inside the house, leaning against the door, trying to ignore the hollowness in her heart. It was the right thing. There was too much at stake.
She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs, her feet heavy on the treads. When she reached the door to her father’s office, she took a minute to compose herself. She needed to give him confidence that things were under control, especially with news of Mikhail’s body.
“Come in,” her father called after she raised her hand to the door.
Scarlet entered the room and crossed to the chair in front of her father’s desk. He looked even more worn than he had the day before, the creases in his forehead deeper, the fatigue on his face more obvious.
He didn’t bother with preliminaries. “I’m sorry to call you so early.”
She waved away the comment. “Have they checked Mikhail’s glaive?”
“Intact,” her father said. “Just like the others. I had our source in forensics check it twice: once at the scene and once back at the lab.”
“Could we have a mole in the foundry?” Scarlet asked. “Someone who could have made the piece with our brand?”
“I suppose anything is possible, but why? What possible motive would someone have to frame us for the murder of a revenant?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlet admitted. “I guess it would depend on who it was.”
Her father sighed heavily. “I’ll organize a meeting with the Legion’s Council. We’ll allow them to inspect the glaives. Surely that will be proof enough that we are innocent in the death of their revenant.”
But he didn’t sound sure. And Scarlet didn’t blame him. Counting on the Legion to be rational was like counting on the moon to be full every day of the month; you’d be right once or twice, but awfully disappointed the other twenty-nine days.
“What can I do?” she asked.
He stared at his desk a moment before rapping it softly with his knuckles. “Nothing, dear heart. I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, I think there are more important things to discuss.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What could be more important than this?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Let’s talk about Rowen Black. Something tells me there may be more to your relationship than this investigation.”
She silently cursed the heat that rose to her face. Rowen had only been with the Guard two days. How could her father possibly know there was something between them?
“Scarlet,” her father said, leveling his stern gaze at her. She felt like a five-year-old, “You’re not considering lying to me, are you?”
The breath left her body in a rush. “No, Father. It’s just that I can’t afford to worry about men right now. Not even Rowen Black.”
“And why is that?”
She didn’t try to hide her surprise at the question. “Well … because. There’s too much going on. The murder of the revenant, Ivan, your … illness.”
“My dear, I know I have been single-minded in my goal to maintain peace, but it would be my deepest regret if I have led you to believe there are not more important things in life.” He paused, studying his hands. “In truth, it is those things that give our duty meaning. If we are not working to preserve the beauty in life, the goodness, and yes, the love, what is our work for?”
She tried to straighten her back, to take refuge in the shelter of her logic. Except
“Friends,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She nodded. “Good. I’ll see you inside.”
She turned and headed up the walkway, leaving him on the pavement, the only time in his life he’d stood with his heart in his hands.
Twenty
Walking away from him was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do, which was to stand on tiptoe, wrap her arms around his neck, press her body against his, and kiss him in full view of anyone who happened to pass by.
But she kept moving, willing her feet away from him until she was inside the house, leaning against the door, trying to ignore the hollowness in her heart. It was the right thing. There was too much at stake.
She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs, her feet heavy on the treads. When she reached the door to her father’s office, she took a minute to compose herself. She needed to give him confidence that things were under control, especially with news of Mikhail’s body.
“Come in,” her father called after she raised her hand to the door.
Scarlet entered the room and crossed to the chair in front of her father’s desk. He looked even more worn than he had the day before, the creases in his forehead deeper, the fatigue on his face more obvious.
He didn’t bother with preliminaries. “I’m sorry to call you so early.”
She waved away the comment. “Have they checked Mikhail’s glaive?”
“Intact,” her father said. “Just like the others. I had our source in forensics check it twice: once at the scene and once back at the lab.”
“Could we have a mole in the foundry?” Scarlet asked. “Someone who could have made the piece with our brand?”
“I suppose anything is possible, but why? What possible motive would someone have to frame us for the murder of a revenant?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlet admitted. “I guess it would depend on who it was.”
Her father sighed heavily. “I’ll organize a meeting with the Legion’s Council. We’ll allow them to inspect the glaives. Surely that will be proof enough that we are innocent in the death of their revenant.”
But he didn’t sound sure. And Scarlet didn’t blame him. Counting on the Legion to be rational was like counting on the moon to be full every day of the month; you’d be right once or twice, but awfully disappointed the other twenty-nine days.
“What can I do?” she asked.
He stared at his desk a moment before rapping it softly with his knuckles. “Nothing, dear heart. I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, I think there are more important things to discuss.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What could be more important than this?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Let’s talk about Rowen Black. Something tells me there may be more to your relationship than this investigation.”
She silently cursed the heat that rose to her face. Rowen had only been with the Guard two days. How could her father possibly know there was something between them?
“Scarlet,” her father said, leveling his stern gaze at her. She felt like a five-year-old, “You’re not considering lying to me, are you?”
The breath left her body in a rush. “No, Father. It’s just that I can’t afford to worry about men right now. Not even Rowen Black.”
“And why is that?”
She didn’t try to hide her surprise at the question. “Well … because. There’s too much going on. The murder of the revenant, Ivan, your … illness.”
“My dear, I know I have been single-minded in my goal to maintain peace, but it would be my deepest regret if I have led you to believe there are not more important things in life.” He paused, studying his hands. “In truth, it is those things that give our duty meaning. If we are not working to preserve the beauty in life, the goodness, and yes, the love, what is our work for?”
She tried to straighten her back, to take refuge in the shelter of her logic. Except
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