Page 67 of Dead Wrong

It wouldn’t be the last.

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“I was beginning to think you’d died, Reginald.”

Cirian addressed me as I entered Mother’s office, carrying the silver tray.

“Apologies, Master Cirian. The kitchen was overrun with hungry soldiers, and it took some time to get everything in order.” I set down the tray, making it a point to set Mother’s place first, then the Cardinal’s, and finally Cirian’s.

Mother scoffed, her nostrils flaring. “Those lollygaggers have been slacking ever since we made the Chateau into a base of operations. I mean, really, their entire purpose is to cook, so you’d think they’d be excited to do it for more people?”

I poured Mother’s cup, then set the plate of shortbreads down in front of her. She eyed them with gluttonous intent. Not matter how powerful she was, her head could always be turned by a sweet.

“Good help is so difficult to find these days, isn’t it, Adoranda?” Cirian asked, motioning toward me. “Sure, Reggie here may have dedicated his life in service to the Source, but does that mean he can slack off when I’m not looking? I say, no way.”

The Cardinal let out a quiet huff, a dissent to the conversation if I’d ever heard one.

“Tell me about it,” Mother responded, picking up one of the cookies and dunking it into her steaming tea. “I always knew I felt a kinship to you, Cirian. You’re a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it—nay, demand it. It’s a rare trait in Adored men, unfortunately. Most lack the gumption to even speak to me, let alone commiserate over the staff.”

“That is their loss, then,” Cirian replied, raising his teacup in a gesture of goodwill to Mother. “Because every conversation with you is a delight.”

I could practically hear the Cardinal’s eyes rolling around her head.

A soft knock on the door and one of the maids poked her head through the opening.

“Yes, what is it?” Mother barked after swallowing her mouthful of cookie.

The maid hurried over to the desk, bending down to whisper in Mother’s ear. I kept a comfortable distance from them, so I wasn’t able to make out any of the message.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mother said, sliding her cup forward as she stood and dusting the crumbs from her jacket. “There’s a matter that requires my attention. A lady’s work is never done, aye, Sancha?”

“I suppose not,” the Cardinal responded coolly.

“Don’t take too long, now,” Cirian added, standing as Mother exited the room. Once the door shut behind her, he sank back into his chair.

The Cardinal shifted in her seat, straightening out her robes. “Must you be such a shameless flirt, Cirian? I am finding it difficult to keep my breakfast down.”

“This is why I told you I needed to be here,” he replied with a sly grin. “If I’d left you to your own devices, you two would be sitting here in an awkward silence.”

The Cardinal made a noise I can only assume was a laugh. “This is no improvement, I assure you.”

Cirian bowed his head toward his master, though his smile was still prominently displayed. “My apologies, Your Eminence. I will do better to dim my charm and wit so it does not offend you.”

“Any dimmer and you’d be acting like her tawdry son, may his soul find peace.”

Cirian’s smile faded, and he did his best not to look at me.

“You trained me to use every tool in my arsenal in service of the Source, so I must remind you that this shameless flirting is all your fault.”

The Cardinal let out another clipped laugh, reaching for her teacup.

I couldn’t help but empathize with Cirian. I’d spent the majority of my first life using my charms and magic to woo and flatter and ultimately manipulate others into doing what I wished. Well, what Mother wished, but that didn’t absolve me. How many lives had I ruined in the process? How many hearts had I fractured with promises I never intended to keep?

How many of those promises did I give to Cirian during those long afternoons spent in my chambers?

And perhaps that explained the moment Cirian and I shared earlier today. It was the ghostly remnants of a decade-old affection, heightened by the urgency of the moment, nothing more. Another empty promise divvied out.

I couldn’t consider it more. Not now.

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