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Iate everything. So did the fox. We had similar tastes in men and food apparently.

Phobos was more than happy to trot alongside Lucian, and when he felt like it, he leapt into his arms—and Lucian caught him like they’d done it every day for years.

Lucian indulged us both, buying anything the fox or I sniffed with interest, until I was so full I couldn’t have fit a single morsel more.

The street food merchants in the city square were geniuses. Meat softer than butter, crisped and covered in the most delicious sauces, were sold on skewers, in buns fresh out of the oven or wraps. Apples covered in spices, bananas positively slathered in dark chocolate were baked and offered on top of pancakes, with fresh strawberries that weren’t supposed to be this tasty in December. And then there were the things I couldn’t recognize, the mysterious blue-tinted meats, the strange, diaphanous sour candies that glowed in the eerie light of the square. I ate it all, and regretted it on our way back.

“I would be the size of a house if I lived here,” I groaned.

“Hardly. You don’t eat like an army if you’re used to everything.”

I doubted him. It was all that good. “How do you think Zazel will take to Phobos?”

“He’ll attempt murder,” Lucian replied lightly. “But Phobos can take care of himself.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. But I was also worried for nothing. We’d only just entered the house when Zazel lazily strode in, stretching his long legs. Phobos rolled to his back, and the demon cat consented to come sniff him. Then they were hopping off—probably to find nonexistent mice.

“He’s right at home, isn’t he?”

Lucian smirked. “Mrs. Francis was right, I think. Phobos took to me. He’ll insert himself in my life just fine. Zazel can’t stand me, and he managed.”

I wanted to argue Zazel must have seen something to like, given that he followed him and remained in his home, but frankly, my short acquaintance with the cat suggested what he liked was this place, compared to wherever he had come from. Lucian, he was thoroughly indifferent to.

“Do you need a nap, or should we get back to work?”

I could have done with a nap. But I had an attacker to find.

And then we were back at the entrance of the enchanted library. I noticed a word engraved on top of the arched door that I hadn’t seen the first day: θ?κη.

“Theke,” Lucian read for me. “Technically, the manor’s actual library is the one downstairs, so this is Theke. If you’re lost, you can call it out loud; one of the runes might come help you if they feel like it.”

Because his house’s runes hadfeelings.

There were ten books on the table again. I took one and returned to my seat, disturbingly comfortable here.

I had mostly been joking when I said I didn’t want to leave a day ago. Now, I was fairly certain I meant it.

But I had a job to do, and it wasn’t wise to let him see just how insane I was by begging to move in. He might kick me out before we figure out who was trying to curse me—and how to stop it.

30

LUCIAN

Iwas getting used to this.

I’d technically had an animal around the house for half a decade, so one would have thought that I wasn’t new to it, but Phobos actually liked me. He sought me out, demanding scratching and attention. On Wednesday, he found two socks bundled together from my laundry basket, and brought it to me. I was thoroughly confused.

“He wants you to throw it,” Kleos prompted. “It’s a little like a ball, isn’t it?”

I tentatively tossed the socks, watching his ears stand up to attention, and then he was running after it.

Theke wasn’t impressed. The runes kept flying at Phobos in an to attempt to deter him. He just tried to bite them in the air, delighted.

I asked Ronan to bring me a package of tennis balls, and kept one in my pocket, newly magicked to lie flat, at all times for emergency play sessions. How was that my life now?

Zazel was thoroughly disgusted by the whole affair, but didn’t seem to blame Phobos for it. He merely watched imperiously from Kleos’s lap, nails flexing, just in case I dared suggest he might want to chase balls too.

Kleos was another thing I was getting used to. I didn’t let her out of the manor all week. By that, I meant I plied her with promise of food, and saving time, and squeezing in an hour of research after dinner, so she wasn’t tempted to return home. The fact that she woke me up every morning with the smell of vanilla or chocolate or apples was only one of the many reasons I was considering permanent abduction.