Page 153 of Bitten & Burned
“That obvious?” I muttered.
“Only to those of us who’ve seen it before,” Anton said, his voice softer now. “Do you want me to say something first, or…?”
“No,” I said. “This one’s mine.”
Quil didn’t say anything. He just glanced at me, then at the doorway, and waited.
Anton gave a short nod. “Then we’re with you.”
I steeled my resolve and moved forward again, with Anton and Quil flanking me as we approached the door. I took one final breath and stepped inside.
My father stood at the fireplace, peering up at the clock on the mantle.
He looked… older like this. Maybe it was the months since I’d last seen him. Or maybe it was because he’d let his guard down and wasn’t carrying himself with his usual precision. There were new streaks of gray at his temples I hadn’t noticed before.
Or maybe he was just exhausted from traveling all night to be here.
In his hand, he held a glass of what I was almost certain was brandy. Brandy with a twist of orange. That was his drink. Vael had taken his hosting seriously, it seemed.
“Father?” I said softly.
He turned.
Green eyes that matched my own flashed in recognition. “Rowena,” he said, setting the glass down on the mantle and stepping towards me.
His gaze moved over me—not unkind, but appraising. The same way he looked at a silver clasp or a half-set gem. Measuring. Searching for flaws or cracks that might dull the shine.
Not really. But it always felt that way to me.
He smiled, then, in that small, thoughtful way he always had. “I’ve missed you.”
I smiled back. “I missed you, too.”
He held out his arms, and I walked into them. Into his familiar scent of sweet tobacco and peppermints. His warm embrace hadn’t changed since I was small. He tightened it slightly before letting me go again, and looking at me once more. He crouched slightly to acknowledge Fig.
“And you, sir, pleased to see you again,” he dipped his head, and Fig batted at it. He smiled and scratched behind his ears before looking back at me again.
“That wound still bothering you? Your… Mr. Vexley said it hasn’t gotten better?”
The sigil throbbed at his words, sharp as though it wanted to answer for me.
“I have, but perhaps it’s better to wait until everyone is here before we speak more,” I said.
“Quite, Mr. Vexley said there are five residents of Halemont besides yourself?”
“I’m a temporary resident,” I explained. “Because of the wound, it’s easier if I don’t travel.”
“That explains the lack of visits from you in the past few months, at least,” my father said.
I swallowed thickly. “Yes, well, I suppose I should introduce you to my companions.” I turned toward Anton. “This is Anton Mercier...”
Anton stepped forward with a languid sort of grace, unhurried and entirely at ease. He gave a slight, elegant bow.
“Mr. Marlowe,” he said smoothly. “Your reputation precedes you. It’s a pleasure. Your daughter is… extraordinary.”
My father’s brow lifted. “Is she?”
Anton smiled, unapologetic. “Undeniably.”
