Page 164 of Nikolay

Maddie rolled onto her back and tucked one arm behind her head. “I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Should I be afraid?”

“Probably not. This one’s practical.”

I propped myself up on one elbow to look at her properly. “Go on.”

She glanced toward the shelves, toward the chair where some of her clothes had landed in a thoroughly disreputable heap, then back at me. “I want to keep my job at Obsidian.”

The statement did not surprise me. Not really. Maddie had never struck me as a woman who wanted to be ornamented into uselessness simply because fate had chosen her for someone powerful. If anything, one of my earliest failures with her had been assuming she might be flattered by protection when what she actually respected was purpose.

“I love the work,” she continued. “I love the floor. I love the pace. I love being in the middle of everything when the night really gets moving.” Her mouth curved. “There’s somethin’ about a room full of people all wanting different things and me somehow making it run smooth, anyway. It scratches an itch.”

I smiled. “You enjoy controlled chaos.”

“I enjoy competent chaos.”

“That is a notable distinction.”

“It is.” She turned her head on the pillow and fixed me with a look. “I’m tellin’ you because I don’t want there to be any confusion later. I am not about to become one of those women who just sort of... drifts beautifully through a big house while other people bring her tea.”

“I should like to note,” I said, “that you may still drift beautifully through a big house if you choose.”

She snorted. “You are impossible.”

“On the contrary. I am adapting.”

“Mm-hm.”

I let my fingers wander idly along her bare arm. “If you ever change your mind, you could work as my assistant.”

That earned me a long, slow stare.

Not hostile. Merely so pointed it ought to have had legal standing.

“Your assistant,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like with a desk and files and appointments and all your old prince business?”

I considered. “That is a somewhat undignified summary, but broadly accurate.”

She kept staring.

I felt, against all reason, the urge to defend myself. “You would be very good at it.”

“Nikolay.”

“Yes?”

“I am not changing my mind.”

I bowed my head slightly. “An admirably clear answer.”

“Damn right.” Her eyes narrowed with amusement. “Was that your fancy way of trying to keep me under your nose all day?”

“No,” I said, then after a beat, “not entirely.”