Page 26 of A Murderous Crow
To their credit, my brothershadarrived slick-backed to the occasion of cleanup on aisle thirteen. There was no need to advertise the Iron Wraith’s presence in such dirty deeds, should anyone happen along at the right place at the wrong time for us. At any rate, that was why she had no idea who we were that night. There were absolutely no clues.
“I believe that should answer the majority of your questions?” I said pointedly, a less-than-subtle hint that I would really rather she not ask any more.
“Yes, um, thank you,” she murmured. With a trembling hand, she took up her fork to resume our meal. I expected her to pick at her food or to merely shuffle it around on her plate, but it would seem she hadn’t lost her appetite with the new information provided to her.
Her esteem went up a notch in my book for that.
We finished our meal, and I could see other burgeoning questions and queries lighting up her eyes. I waited for a time until she began to shift in her seat before relenting and saying, “Go on, ask. I won’t promise you I’ll answer, but you can ask.”
“Oh, um, I mean… how long?” she asked.
“Since the club’s inception,” I told her, which I knew was a non-answer, really, being as no one could really know, except for the club itself, how long we had been going on.
“I see,” she said, and she looked thoughtful for a minute before finally accepting that at face value.
“You all, um, go way back?”
I smiled then, and nodded, the question evoking nostalgia for the days in our mutual boarding school when it was just me, Syn, and the core group of a few others.
“We do,” I said. “Some are newer to the club and came after its creation. But they aren’t too far behind, and they’re as important to us as the next brother.”
“I never understood how any of that was meant to work,” she confessed as the door opened and the final course was served, though they only brought the one plate.
They set it down in front of Savannah with a single dessert fork and set a glass of top-shelf bourbon at my place setting. I nodded with appreciation as the staff set about clearing the rest of the dishes and cutlery away, leaving us with just our drinks, the dessert, and the faintly glowing candlelight of the centerpiece.
“You’re not having any?” she asked.
“I’m not much one for sweets,” I told her.
She looked at the slim slice of New York-style cheesecake, drowning in a bourbon-and-peach-glazed compote, and took up her fork.
“Mm!” She rolled the first bite in her mouth, letting the flavors soak into her being, her eyes slipping shut, and her expression lighting with pleasure.
My lips flickered into a smile of pleasure of my own at just watching the spectacle of her before me.
“That isamazing,” she said, and her delight was a real and palpable thing.
“Yeah?” I asked, and I couldn’t help my grin.
“Mm-hm,” she hummed around another bite.
I enjoyed watching her savor every last morsel of the dessert, and she sat back, sighing in satisfaction.
“That was definitely the crown jewel in an otherwise sumptuous meal,” she said. “Thank you for that.”
“It wasn’t hard to guess that peaches are something you like,” I told her.
She blushed faintly at that, and said, “Let me guess… my perfume?”
“Indeed,” I told her.
She smiled, then a thought occurred to her, and the smile slipped ever so slightly. “So, what happens now?” she asked softly, and my smile grew.
“Now, it’s my turn for dessert,” I told her, and her solemn blue eyes met mine. I loved watching the uncertainty creep back in.
I snapped my fingers twice, and the door opened. Savannah jumped slightly as three staff members entered the chamber. One took her plate, while another used a candle snuffer to put out the centerpiece.
The third member of staff took the centerpiece away, while the man with the candle snuffer removed the top-most layer of linen, leaving the clean one beneath. All three filed out of the room, the door shut, and the dim light of the crystal chandelier rose ever so slightly to make up for the light that’d just been whisked away. The door closed, and Savannah turned at the snick of the lock being thrown.
