Within These Wicked Walls(29)

“I would never leave you before the job is done,” I said, and he stumbled to a stop in the doorway.

He hugged himself, standing between the warm of my room and the cold of the hall, and then turned on his heel and walked back in. “So, what did you buy?”

“Just a few essentials.”

“I could’ve gotten those for you. Next time just give me a list and I’ll send someone.”

“I needed to get out. It was a nice change of scenery.”

“You used your bonus money?”

I smirked. But he looked so confused, I couldn’t help it. “What else would I use?”

“You don’t need to use your own money on things like this. Not when you live under my roof.”

“I prefer to be independent.”

“Is that why you got yourself thrown out of your training? To be independent?” When I didn’t validate his rude questions with answers he tilted his head at me, like a confused puppy. “Why did you get thrown out, anyway? You never said.”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

“Were you sleeping around with the priests?”

I gaped, glaring at him, then threw my pillow at his head. He barely caught it, stumbling into the hall. “You don’t have to be so insufferable all the time, you know.”

His eyes went wide. “Am I insufferable?”

His reaction implied this was new information, which was strange. Did no one have the nerve to stand up to him? “And disrespectful.”

He nodded, hugging my pillow to his chest and leaning forward a bit, as if listening intently. “What else?”

There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his question. I hesitated. “Impatient.”

“That’s true. Would you like higher pay?”

“No, Magnus—” I took a deep breath. “I want you to do better.”

“You are the first debtera to complain about my personality.”

“To your face.”

“You think so?” He paused and looked down, wiggling his toes in his socks. “I was … a little panicked … when I saw you were gone. I thought you had left forever. I wonder if the others left because they couldn’t handle me, as well.”

“I can handle you, Magnus, even at your worst,” I said, taking a step closer. At my movement he met my gaze again, his eyes full of hope, and something steady and pleasing like contentment. “But that doesn’t mean you can get away with being a brat all the time. You’re a good person, I know. It would just be nice if you’d show it sometimes.”

“I can be good. Can I get you anything?”

“Was that a genuine question?”

He looked at me as if I had to have been joking. “Yes. I want to guarantee you never leave me again.”

I smirked. “That would’ve almost been nice if it wasn’t so self-serving.”

“You’re irreplaceable, Andromeda, I hope you know that.”

“Tell me, and I’ll know.”

Magnus paused, as if shocked that I would make such a demand. “You’re irreplaceable.” He dropped his gaze suddenly, rubbing at his face and scowling at his feet. “But I’m still paying you to do a job. So no more taking off.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hearing you say ‘sir’ drains the life from me. You will kill me before old age does.”

“Magnus,” I corrected.

“Yes?”

I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing.

He opened his mouth to speak, then just cleared his throat instead. Then, after a moment, “Did you miss me, at least?”

I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. It was strange, to feel pleased and nauseated at the same time. “Not particularly.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Vicious girl. After all my efforts to be nice to you.”

“What efforts?”

“I said you’re irreplaceable, didn’t I? Not to mention I inconvenienced myself to walk down the hall and put on trousers.”

“You’re my employer, you should be wearing them in the first place.”

“I mean—” He paused, a sheepish blush spreading across his cheeks. He picked up my bottle of tej, twisting the neck in his hands. “Yes, you’re right. As Esjay says, we wouldn’t want a lawsuit.”

His reaction was … adorable. But admitting that, I could feel my own blush flaring up, so I quickly buried the word somewhere to keep myself under control. “You mean pantlessness is an ongoing problem for you?”

“One other time is not ‘ongoing.’” He uncorked the bottle, recoiling before it’d even made it to his lips. “Oh God! This orange juice has gone rancid.”

“It’s honey wine,” I said, taking the bottle from him and cradling it close. He coughed, then dry heaved like a cat with a hairball. I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you get for not asking before taking a sip.”

“It’s putrid.” He swallowed with effort. “I feel a little tipsy just from smelling it.”

“Oh, hush. That’s not how alcohol works.” I took his arm to escort him to the door, and he placed his hand on top of mine, heat and life burning their soothing mark on me. “I’d like to get a little rest if you don’t mind.”