Page 46 of Empress of Ruin
That’s my girl.
Rather than dining in tonight, I clear out The MET and bring in my chef to serve dinner. Lyra arrives at 8pm on the dot, wearingthe gown I instructed her to put on. A lovely midnight-blue silk number. I wonder if she also followed instructions on what lingerie to wear.
I expect I’ll find out soon enough.
There’s a noticeable glimmer of life in her eyes that’s been absent since we reunited. It seems I made the right decision when I reignited her hobby.
Her heels clack over the marble floors as she makes her way to me, looking around the museum with wide eyes. I expect she’s been here before, but never when it was actuallyquiet. Usually, the museum is filled with adults, children, and worst of alltourists. The cacophony of noise is untenable. Now, there’s silence, and an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the met.
“How was your day?” I ask pleasantly, offering her my arm.
She gazes at it for a few beats before taking it. I like her small hand tucked in the crook of my arm. It feels right.
“Fine,” she murmurs demurely.
I almost issue an order for her to give me details immediately, but instead, I bite my tongue. After a few moments, I drawl, “I’d love to hear more.”
There. That didn’t sound like a direct command, more of an invitation.
“The first agent was alright, but a bit… green, I think. The second seemed to be a good match. Oddly enough, she’d somehow already read the manuscript cover to cover, and was really passionate about it.”
“Someone who wants you to succeed must’ve sent it forward on your behalf,” I speculate.
“Killian…” she cuts off when we enter the hall of Greek statues, which I’ve been led to believe is her favorite section of this museum. A small, intimate dining table has been set up, hosting a candelabra, a collection of flower petals, and fine dishware. A waiter idles nearby, dressed in a tuxedo with a white clothdraped over my arm. It could be seen as a bit over the top, but I want nothing but the best for my fiancée.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “This is… nice.”
“Glad you think so.” I pull out her chair. “You were saying?”
“Um, yes. The second agent is seasoned and seems pretty aggressive about selling her authors, but she also has a big list of hard-hitters. She might not be so aggressive at championing her mid listers or low listers. I’ve heard it’s better to have a greenie with something to prove than an industry vet who—”
“She’ll push your work,” I say confidently.Otherwise, she’ll be getting a visit from me.
Lyra’s brows furrow. “Don’t do anything to interfere.”
I keep my expression blank. “Alright.”
“Killian, I’m serious. Please don’t do anything to interfere. If I succeed, I want to succeed on my own merit, not because of you. Let the cards fall where they will.”
Not a fucking chance. I won’t let her fail. She deserves to shine. Nevertheless, I lie, “Alright.”
Her expression hardens. “If I find out you’ve meddled—and Iwillfind out—I’m not going to speak to you ever again.”
I highly doubt the realism of her threat, but recent events have taught me that she can certainly give it her best shot—which is more than I can bear. I feel my shoulders stiffen, but I let out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”
She seems to believe me, because she nods this time. “Good.”
“Good.” Would sinking a few hundred grand into marketing count as interference? Or persuading whichever publisher picks her up to do so?Maybe…
Our appetizers are served before I can interject, and the decadent dinner commences.
Somewhere through the third course, Lyra decides to entirely veer off my chosen topics and into a dangerous territory. “What are you going to do about Silas?”
I freeze with my steak halfway up to my mouth, and slowly turn to face her. I’ve had my team sweep this museum for bugs, so I’m not concerned about anyone overhearing something they shouldn’t, but this is not a topic of conversation I want to have.
“We’re not going to discuss that,” I say carefully.
Lyra sets down her cutlery. Her lips thin. “Yes, we are,” she says tersely. “We’re discussing a man who shot the bullet that blew up my life.You’rethe one who gave him that ammunition. I have a right to know—”
