Page 18 of Exiled Heir

I slid them on, the fabric soft against my legs. I didn’t even need to tie the waist. It fit around my hips, leaving a small hint of hair trailing between my navel and the top of the pants.

The white T-shirt thankfully fit when I pulled it over my head.

“My work here is done. We’ll have some touch-ups. Have Prince Bartlett bring you by my studio. Nia,home. I need at least anotherten hoursof beauty sleep.”

Rhys flounced out of the room, and Nia grabbed the bag left behind, slinging it over her shoulder.

Other than a grunt, I hadn’t heard her say a single word. She jerked her chin at me, acknowledgment or farewell. Then she headed out.

They both were clearly assuming I knew my way back to Cade, and it wasn’t a bad assumption. I’d seen him go up the stairs. I could follow his scent to his room.

I looked around the room, but there was no more food and nothing else for me to do. My eyelids were drifting closed. Exhaustion made it almost impossible to move my legs to the door.

This would be the perfect time to attack. I was alone, unattended, and it was apparently spreading already that Cade had brought a consort home. The person trying to kill Cade might attack now, if I stayed here long enough, a predator waiting for the careless rabbit to hop close enough to catch.

No, I needed to get back to Cade, if only because if I was a sitting duck here, he was a sitting duck with a big target on his back and a hunter who’d already missed twice. If the third time was the charm, I didn’t care that Cade had unilaterally decided thatnowwas the perfect time for us to catch whoever was after him. I was done being the duck floating on the pond, waiting for the hunter to take his shot.

I opened the door, expecting to have to find my own way to Cade, but instead, I was faced with a servant. He had bleached hair and a tan that revealed every year of his age. Despite his pressed suit, something about him reminded me of a weasel.

He bowed low, the way he probably did to Cade. “Consort Bartlett, if you’ll come this way.”

I looked around the empty hallway, but no one else was around. Shrugging, I followed him.

ChapterSeven

The servant led me down the hallway through a different door. We exited into the sort of luxury that existed in the reality TV shows Declan liked on in the background when he was working. Plush velvet furniture in gem tones was lit by glowing lights, dimmed in the middle of the night.

I tried to get my bearings, tried to figure out the lay of the house, but it was impossible. The servant was walking so quickly that we passed a formal dining room, two sitting rooms, a small breakfast area, and what might have been a library or study. We walked through the enormous foyer again, the stairs curving from the entryway up to a second level, the banister gleaming with golden accents.

I started to head up the stairs, where the trail of Cade’s scent was the strongest, but my guide cleared his throat, indicating a door beyond the foyer. Frowning, I said, “What, us servant types have to use the back way? Our feet are too dirty for the gold-plated stairs?”

When I opened the door, I realized it wasn’t servants’ stairs. It was an intimate reading room. The marble flooring of the house had chilled my feet, but as I walked forward, I encountered soft, plush rugs. On my left, the wall had a built-in bookcase, and lamps with delicate stained-glass shades were placed strategically next to the furniture.

Two women sat in red chairs, the leather buttery soft. I didn’t sense danger, but for all I knew, they were highly trained assassins. My body went tense, observing every detail for some sign of what was going to come next. As I observed them, my body relaxed in increments. If they were going to try to kill me, these weren’t women who’d do it directly.

One woman had pulled her white hair into a neat bun. Her face looked as though a very expensive plastic surgeon had stretched all the lines out of it, her cheeks smooth and lips pulled taut. Only her hair and her eyes indicated her age.

The other woman looked a few years older than me. She had dark black hair and a thin nose with sharp cheekbones. Pale skin and plump lips made her look striking, even beautiful.

Tyson’s scent clung to her skin and clothes, strong enough that my eyes swept the room again, making sure I hadn’t missed the wannabe alpha hiding in the shadows.

“Thank you, Keith. We’ll ring if we need anything,” the older woman said, indicating an honest-to-godbellon the table beside her. “We do appreciate you alerting us, despite the hour. Your discretion, as always, is valued.”

She nodded significantly at an envelope on a table near the door, and Keith swiped it quickly, pocketing it as though that would hide what it was: a bribe.

Keith bowed, saying, “My ladies.”

Then he was out the door, so smoothly and quietly he might never have been there.

“When Tyson told me, I didn’t believe it.” The younger woman rose, approaching me, and the smell of wolf was even stronger up close. She only stood to my chin, but when she examined me, I felt like I was on my knees. This was a woman used to having a whip in her hand.

“You are Prince Bartlett’s consort?” the older woman asked. When I didn’t respond right away, she repeated the question more slowly, as though she was concerned there was something wrong with my head.

“Yes,” I said, unsure if I should clarify that we weren’t bonded yet. If Tyson had recognized that we hadn’t actually bonded, he’d definitely told these two women.

After all, I was pretty sure I was looking at the mage who owned Tyson’s collar.

“Unbonded,” the woman who smelled like wolf said dismissively. She retook her seat, crossing her legs at the knee.