Page 215 of Bitten & Burned
Thirty-Four
PLANNING
Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune
3 Vony, Year 810
The summons came lessthan eight hours later.
I woke up to Anton’s voice, soft in my ear. “Rowena? Darling, I’m sorry, Cassian needs us all in his study. If you’d like, I could do everything for you… dress you, carry you, hold you…”
I was confused for a moment because I could have sworn I’d fallen asleep with Quil. I looked in the bed next to me, only to find it mussed, but empty.
“Cassian needed Quil. He sent me in here to wake you up,” Anton murmured, kissing my cheek. “So… about that everything I was going to do for you…”
My eyes fluttered open. “Just because my magic is gone doesn’t mean I can’t walk, Anton.”
“So yes to the other things, then?”
I smiled and swatted at him playfully.
By the time we walked into Cassian’s study, everyone else was already there.Like always, the fire was roaring in the fireplace. Thecombined crackling and the dulcet tones of lowered voices made for an eerie scene indeed.
Quil was leaning against the wall across from me, looking at once as if he were part of the wood paneling and as if he didn’t belong. His dark eyes caught mine, heat still smoldering from the night before. My thighs ached, and my throat was sore. I flushed at the memory of our night together, and the way he was looking at me now didn’t help. I felt wanted and well-loved. It was a nice feeling to pile on top of all the uneasy ones I had in abundance.
Speaking of uneasy, Vael was sitting at the head of the table, his posture sharp and deliberate, looking over one of the maps and pointing something out to Cassian, standing just behind him, looking over his shoulder and nodding.
Dmitri was at Vael’s other shoulder, looking but not reacting to whatever he was saying.
Anton sprawled in a chair nearby as if it belonged to him; he lounged, but every one of his lines was sharp and taut. He pulled me into it with him.
As soon as all the others realized I’d entered, the entire room shifted around me, enfolding me into its action, mixing me in as if I were the ingredient that had been missing this whole time.
I wanted to simply listen in, hear what they were saying about this mission that was really just about me and my sigil woes.
Anton hooked his arm around my waist and hoisted me over into his lap. I folded into him as if it were the most obvious place for me to be. I wasn’t complaining; this was clearly the seat I’d been angling for.
His grip was firm, not decorative, his fingers tightening as if testing to be sure I was real and safe. Even though I’d been back for nearly two days, Anton’s anxiety had not subsided.
I could hear better from here. Vael and Cassian were arguing about some part of a plan. Some part that involved me.
Anton was listening as well; I could tell by the way his fingers flexed at certain parts, the parts where Cassian was talkingabout me. Where Vael talked about me as well. Anton kept me anchored against him; his weight felt protective and unyielding.
Vael glanced up to catch my eye, saw where I was sitting and what Anton was doing, and swallowed thickly, his gaze quickly moving away as Cassian began to speak again.
His gaze tended to do that lately, I’d noticed: when others were speaking, when I was speaking, when he was speaking—his gaze would flit around the room, but always back to me. Always steady and grounded. It almost felt like it used to before all of this. Before the bond and before everything had gone so spectacularly to shit with us. But now? Now it felt different.
Vael sat back in his chair, fingers steepled, lips pursed. He didn’t interrupt—just let the others speak, adding a word here and there in that calm tone he used to smooth rough edges. It made the conversation easier to navigate.
“I think you’re all underestimating how clever Silas is,” I said. “He was my professor. No matter what I can or can’t do, he’s been doing this longer. I can guess at his next move, but nothing concrete.” I shrugged. “And he could still pull something out of his back pocket that I’d never expect.”
“Rowena’s point is sound,” Vael said. His eyes flicked to mine—just for a breath—before turning back to the others. He didn’t push, didn’t prod, just let the words settle between us.
The talk circled back to Silas, to what he was capable of. And whenever the others deferred to me, Vael’s gaze would return. Each glance was a quiet pull through the bond, static against my skin.
Every look struck something deep. Not jealousy, not regret, but something heavier, harder to name. For the first time since the day he’d dropped me, Vael was giving me space. Giving me what I’d asked for.
“All of this is conjecture until we figure out how to get rid of the sigil,” Quil said, sounding cross and annoyed with the others. “The sigil isstillbleeding; therefore, stillcalling. I can feel it; it’s no wonder that my kin could as well.”
