Page 33 of The Guardian's Curse

She shook her head. “I work at a coffee shop. I just do this on the side.”

“And why do you not work for the Auberon already? Surely Eduardo’s payment is more generous than this coffee shop,” he said mildly.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure I want to be beholden to the court.”

“But you welcomed our protection,” he said. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be cared for?”

She scowled, and he realized he’d overstepped. “I only need your protection because I did a job for the Auberon. I don’t need vampires to pay my way.”

“Why are you angry at the thought of someone paying for your skills?” he said. “You’re obviously quite talented. Do you not value your work?”

His compliment did nothing to soothe her. “Of course I do. It’s just...it’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” he mused. The warmth in her eyes had turned into angry heat. He nudged her with his elbow, hoping to contain the flame before it burned the tenuous connection between them. “Shall we play again?”

“I want to ask you a question first,” she said. His mouth dried. “Are you cursed? Is that why you can’t be in the light?”

“That’s right,” he said carefully. That was Paris’s cover story.

“How did you get cursed? Is it related to the statue in the alcove?”

He felt as if she’d punched him in the gut. “What do you know about the statue?”

“It’s obviously cursed,” she said. “I can sense it. And you have the same thing, along with Paris and Dominic. What did you guys get into?”

He hesitated. “It’s related, but it’s a long story. As you said, it’s complicated.”

“I’m here for a long time,” she said.

“We made enemies of a powerful Night Weaver,” he said. Her eyes widened again. “And she cursed all of us.”

“That’s terrible,” she said. “What’s wrong with Paris and Dominic? Obviously the light doesn’t bother them.”

He shook his head. “Their afflictions are their own, and not my place to tell.”

“But...” she sighed. Then she gave him a determined look. “Is the statue a woman? Or a statue?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“I think your evasion answered my question.”

He nodded grimly. “Lucia drew the ire of the witch. She was innocent, and her only mistake was loving one of us. The witch made her pay for it.”

Shoshanna’s face fell. “That’s horrible.” Then she averted her gaze, picking at one nail. “What would you say if I wanted to try to break the curse?”

“I would say that much more experienced witches have tried, and the Night Weaver is much more clever than we gave her credit for,” he said.

“Maybe I am too.” Her head tilted. “Maybe I could break your curse, too.”

The mere thought of it made his heart ache. The hope was painful, because he knew it wouldn’t happen. “It would be lovely, but I won’t get my hopes up.” Fire ignited in her eyes, as a tiny line formed between her brows. There was something charming but naïve about her determination. And yet, it made him angry. Who was this young, foolish thing to think that she could do better than witches four times her age?

“Then maybe I’ll surprise you,” she shot back.

“Maybe you will, Miss York,” he said. “Shall we play again? Herr Liszt could use our attention.”

They spent another hour playing together, interspersed with conversation about her job, where she made overpriced coffee and baked muffins. He still couldn’t understand why she worked for so little when she had such rare and valuable skills. He deftly avoided questions about himself, instead turning the conversation back to her work. Finally, she yawned and swore when she checked her phone to find it was past three in the morning.

“I lost track of time,” she said with a yawn. “This was fun. Thank you.”

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