Page 227 of Problematic

I closed my eyes and searched my body. The hunger had quieted. My limbs felt warm and heavy, though no weakness dragged at me.

“Good. Full.” I turned my face toward him. “You?”

His lips spread into a feral smile. “Temporarily less homicidal.” The burn near his collar had faded almost entirely. His shoulders no longer sagged beneath the effort of standing.

By the time we left the bedroom, my legs had regained enough strength to support me, though dignity remained missing in action.

Lux opened the door. Vale stood on the other side with his arms folded, one eye swollen, throat bandaged, and the exhausted expression of a man who had survived torture, a coup, and several years of emotional damage in the last twelve hours.

His gaze moved from Lux’s wrinkled shirt to my badly buttoned one. Then lower, where my tail had failed to tuck itself away and remained curled around Lux’s thigh.

Vale closed his eyes. “That was longer than five minutes.”

Lux smiled, looking healthier, smugger, and far too pleased with himself. “I feel much better. Thank you.”

Vale opened his eyes again. Something inside them had died. “I was standing out here.”

“I know.”

“The walls are not soundproofed.”

Lux’s smile widened. “I know.”

Vale stared at him for one long, wounded second before turning toward me. “You fed him?”

“Among other things.”

His face tightened as though I had struck him. “I didn’t need clarification.”

“You asked.” I waved a hand.

Lux placed a hand at my lower back as we stepped into the hall. “She restored enough of my power for the briefing.”

“And destroyed whatever remained of my will to live.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose. “The press briefing started twenty-seven minutes ago. The city is downstairs watching an empty podium while I invent reasons its ruler has disappeared.”

“Technical difficulties,” I offered, lifting a shoulder and trying not to smile.

Vale looked at my badly buttoned shirt, then at Lux. “I heard the technical difficulties.”

Lux’s smile widened. “You are unusually judgmental for a man who is still being paid.”

“That’s the only reason I’m still standing here.” Vale started toward the elevator, stopped, and looked back at Lux. “Sir.”

“Yes?”

“Please understand the considerable restraint I am showing by continuing to work for you.”

Lux leaned closer to me. “He gets emotional when he’s tired.”

Vale resumed walking. “I would quit, but unfortunately, I chose professional masochism as my career. Elevator. Now.”

The elevator opened onto a lobby that still looked like a warzone because, inconveniently, it was. Cracks split the marble where the Hound had struck. Half the security desk was missing. Burn marks climbed the mezzanine where southern flags had hung a little over an hour ago.

Reporters crowded behind the security line while medics moved between injured guards beyond them. Every screen Vale had managed to restore carried the same live feed. New Abaddon was waiting.