Aftermath

It was a dramatic tale, and the hotel's entire night staff had found reason to hang around in reception to hear it, apart from the maid who had been sent scurrying to lay fires in their rooms. Vale was not as versed in deception as Kai and Irene, but he was doing a pretty good job of it nonetheless. The night porters gaped as he relayed the dramatic events that led to the destruction of Le Meurice, and how he, his friend and his friend's wife had escaped the anarchist bomb and walked through the night to find somewhere else to stay.

Of course, anyone looking for holes in the story would have found several – such as the timeline – but in Kai's experience people didn't look for holes in a good tale. Not unless they were trained to do so. In fact, even if they'd told the truth, about an attack by an errant dragon king and a mad fae murderess, these people would probably have lapped it up. It beat the usual boredom of a night shift in the dead of winter.

Kai was happy to stay back and allow Vale to do the talking. He'd assisted Irene into a chair by the fire – she was playing the part of the shocked and frightened wife which enabled her to give in to her genuine exhaustion without losing face. She was still shivering slightly despite the heat of the flames, and was resting her head against his side as though sitting up was too much effort for her tired muscles. He kept an arm around her and stroked her hair, all in the interests of their cover story of course.

He'd be glad when it was all over though and he could get inside their room. He was worried Irene wouldn't hold up much longer. He wanted badly to be alone with her, so he could take care of her properly. Get her warm and comfortable, take a moment to talk properly, appreciate her simply being alive. He'd come so close to losing her that evening...

She must have felt him tense, because her eyes flew open and she quickly scanned the lobby, checking for threats. She frowned as she tried to focus on the darker corners.

'It's OK,' he murmured, bending low over her. 'We're safe.'

'For now,' she muttered back, her voice catching painfully. He'd seen the blood on her hand when she'd coughed earlier, and it frightened him. He pressed her a little more snugly against him, and she yielded to his embrace. That scared him too.

'Perhaps we could go to our rooms now?' he called in French. 'My wife needs to rest.'

To his relief, there was general agreement with this, and he was able to help Irene to her feet and escort her to the staircase. Vale caught Irene's other arm, taking some of her weight, and she gave him a weak smile. 'Those anarchists have got a lot to answer for,' she whispered hoarsely. At the sight of the stairs her face darkened. Kai's heart squeezed as he saw the thought process, saw her wondering how she'd manage them.

'It's best if you allow me to carry you,' he said softly, in English. 'It will fit our cover.'

She didn't even try to protest, just gave a curt nod and closed her eyes, possibly to hide the relief. Kai gently caught her up in his arms and started to climb. Even battered and weary, he didn't find her weight any problem. Vale followed. 'How long shall we sleep for?' he asked as they ascended.

Kai considered. 'My lord father did not specify any time to report to him. And my family can find me easily whenever they wish. Perhaps we should sleep for as long as we can, and consider travelling back early tomorrow afternoon. If Irene is up to it,' he added, with a doubtful look at the head currently resting on his shoulder.

'Of course I'll be up to it,' she protested feebly, her breath warm on his throat. 'I've managed to keep walking round half the night in the snow. I think I can cope with sitting on a dragon whilst you do all the work.'

He put her down at the top of the stairs more from habit than because he wanted to let go. He knew from experience that no matter how injured she was, Irene would always prefer her own two feet to being carried. She clung to him for a moment to get her balance, then gave him a smile that was thanks – both for the lift up the stairs, and for not pushing his luck.

'I will wish you both good night,' said Vale. 'The room to the left appears to be yours.' He held out a key – a proper old fashioned heavy brass one with a red velvet tassel. 'I am in number twenty,' he indicated further down the corridor, 'Call me if you need me for anything.'

'Take care Vale, and sleep well,' said Kai courteously, accepting the key. 'And… thank you.'

The great detective frowned. 'The correct solution to a mystery is not always necessarily the one I would wish to have found,' he stated, his eyes seeming to bore into Kai. His friend always saw more than Kai would strictly like. He knew Vale wouldn't have been fooled by his brave words about his uncle's treachery being less important than his father's approval. Even though they were true, they also didn't do justice to the sickening pain he felt at Ao Ji's betrayal and all that lay beneath it. But Vale wasn't the type to probe deeply into emotional matters. He saw Kai's pain, he silently acknowledged it, and he left them with a polite, 'Good night Strongrock, Winters. Until tomorrow.'

Irene said her goodnight and her own thanks whilst Kai unlocked the door and automatically ran through the standard Library procedure for checking a hotel room for threats. It was so instinctive by now that he couldn't imagine entering a new room without doing it. He had just finished the process when Irene softly shut the door. 'All clear?' she asked, just as she had a hundred times before.

'No assassins, fae, angry book-owners, obvious surveillance equipment, traps or enchantments,' he confirmed. 'Window opens sufficiently to climb out, sturdy looking drainpipe to the left. No adjoining doors, trapdoors or air vents. And the pillows are goose feather.'

It was a nicer room than many they'd used in their time together on missions. The maid had done a good job of the fire, and the air was already pleasantly warm. The bed was a four poster, large and inviting. The full length window had satisfyingly heavy velvet curtains to keep out the chill, and offered a good escape route. It felt snug and cosy.

He came to a stop beside her, just inside the doorway. For a moment they looked at each other, eyes locked, trying to interpret the whole maelstrom of complex emotions swirling around after the events of the last few hours. Then as if in response to a silent signal, they fell into an embrace. He grabbed her almost roughly, and likewise her fingers bit into his shoulders as she pulled him against her, resting her forehead against his. He exhaled a long breath, as the tension left him. At last they were alone, with no one to impress, no one to fight, no political games to play. No need to hide or pretend.

They held each other fiercely, and everything they were too tired and too careful to say was somehow communicated through their contact. The hurt, the fear, the relief, the hope. The hope was the most terrifying and overwhelming feeling of all. He'd felt despair that night - dreadful powerlessness as she drew her last breaths in his arms. But even that didn't hold the same giddy, swooping fear as the thought that things might turn out all right after all. He had an opportunity to stay with Irene, to perform an honourable role at his father's personal request. The responsibility of having a chance to get things right was more frightening than a peril he couldn't defeat.

It was only when she sagged in his arms that he broke the intense hold. He lifted her in place and moved across to the bed, shushing her protest. 'Sit,' he instructed her, placing her on the edge of the mattress and releasing her carefully to ensure she didn't just flop straight over. He knelt down and took her left foot in his hand, beginning to carefully unknot the frozen, muddy lace of her boot.

'I can do it,' she complained, but it sounded half-hearted.

'Indulge me,' he said simply, tugging the heavy shoe away. He caught her foot, surprisingly delicate despite being clad in what appeared to be several layers of sock. He squeezed gently, easing his thumbs along the arch from heel to toe, lingering on the pressure points.

She made a sound that he recognised from the previous night as pleasure. 'That is heavenly,' she murmured.

'Hold that thought,' he told her, and moved to fumble with the laces on the other boot. Once he'd removed it, he gently swung her legs up then settled himself cross legged at the foot of the bed with her feet in his lap. She lay back on the pillows, watching him with drowsy eyes, utterly trusting. He turned his attention back to her feet. 'However many pairs of socks are you wearing?'

'Mmm… a few. People kept giving me bits of clothing. Like that house-elf in the more annoying versions of the Harry Potter novels. To warm me up. I think it was their way of saying thank you.'

'Typical Librarians,' sighed Kai, peeling away the damp layers. 'Such largesse when all you'd done was save all of their lives, and the fate of any number of worlds from inevitable war.'

'They gave me more time with you. That's a gift worth having.'

She spoke quietly, and sincerely, and he looked up at her. 'Yes,' he agreed equally quietly. 'For both of us.' He rubbed her feet gently, massaging the soles and working his way along her toe joints.

'That is so nice,' she breathed. 'I could just drift off.'

'That's the idea. You really do need to sleep, you're running on empty. You used the Language on an entire city. I don't know how that's even possible. Neither did any of the other Librarians. I heard them talking.'

'Oh, they'll be talking about me for days to come. If not weeks.' Her tone was dry, and he found it hard to read. Irene's relationship with her comrades was complicated, and he'd still not worked it out.

'They were admiring,' he assured her. 'What you did was amazing. I'm sorry that I was unconscious for it.'

'If it weren't for you I couldn't have done it. And if we're talking about amazing feats, I was pretty impressed with that water wall you produced. It held off a direct assault from a dragon king, even if only temporarily. I don't think you could have done that when I first met you.'

He allowed himself a smile and a glow of warmth. 'It was rather good,' he admitted. 'I think my father was impressed, and surprised. He didn't realise I had attained that degree of control. I think…' he hesitated, unsure of whether to go on. But then he realised that Irene probably knew or had guessed everything about him long ago. 'My family always assumed that because I have noble blood on only one side, my powers would be weak. Of course, I don't pretend they are anything special. But I have more ability than was initially presumed.' He paused again, watching his hands as they expertly kneaded her heels. 'It is a shame though.'

'What is?' she asked, watching him through half-closed eyes.

'My moment of glory was essentially producing a giant shower of shit.'

She chuckled, caught off guard by his joke. Her smile made him feel warmer still. She was blinking slowly, so slowly that he wasn't sure she'd open her eyes again.

'Are you warm enough?' he asked quietly, matching his voice to her sleepy state.

'Yes. Once I have the covers over me, and you beside me.'

He started in surprise. 'Beside you? I… was expecting to keep watch. I mean… I didn't want to presume… just because of last night…' He realised he was in danger of babbling, and closed his mouth.

She seemed to be too drowsy to tease him, or say anything clever. She simply repeated, 'Beside me. I want you beside me.' And there was no arguing with that tone, half-asleep or not.

'Very well, madam, as you command.' He gave her feet a final squeeze, then rose from the bed and pulled the counterpane back. Once he'd got the covers out from underneath her weight, he gently pulled them back over her, tucking them in. Her eyes were closed now, and she snuggled against the pillows.

He removed his shoes and jacket and placed them next to the bed, in case a rapid departure was necessary. He slipped his hidden blade out from his sleeve and pushed it under his pillow. Irene seemed to be asleep now, or very close. She lay still, breathing deeply, her eyes closed, a pretty flush on her cheeks. He realised he was trembling. He hadn't been nervous the night before. She'd been enthusiastic and wilful, an equal partner. Now she was vulnerable and trusting, and he couldn't help feeling as though he was somehow taking advantage of her, even though he joined her at her request and fully clothed.

Once he'd lain down and settled, he relaxed. He could smell her, feel her warmth, hear her soft breaths. His own eyes began to feel heavy. He'd been so busy worrying about Irene that he'd not noticed how weary he was himself. It hadn't exactly been an easy night for him either. No one wanted to hear that a member of their own family had tried to have them brutally murdered, especially not when family loyalty was the entire foundation of their culture.

He'd always been polite to his uncle, and in the last couple of days he'd tried desperately hard to please him. Surely he hadn't deserved to be sent to the Blood Countess. No one deserved that end. But no matter how deeply it hurt, he also understood his uncle's thinking, in a sick way. Kai was a lowborn afterthought, barely acknowledged, who had caused the family enough trouble. In Ao Ji's implacable logic, Kai's death was a very reasonable price to pay for the king's desired treaty outcome. Kai's life wasn't valuable to his uncle. And he knew that others of his relatives shared that evaluation.

'Kai?' whispered Irene. She must have turned her head, as he felt her breath on his cheek. He'd thought she was asleep.

He turned at once to look at her, his heart rate quickening again, his sharp ears straining to hear if there was any danger at hand. 'Yes?'

He felt her hand fumbling against his side, and suffered a moment of heated confusion until she found his hand and took it, interlacing her fingers with his. 'It's OK,' she said quietly.

Sharing a bed in the literal rather than euphemistic sense was clearly more complicated than he'd realised. Without him making a sound, she had picked up that he was distressed, presumably from his body language and breathing alone. He took a breath, enjoying the feeling of his hand in hers. 'Yes. Yes, it is OK. Try to get some sleep now.'

She gave a sigh and shifted so that her head nudged against his shoulder. 'I suppose we'll have to find ourselves an Embassy,' she mused.

'I hadn't really given it any thought.' A sudden idea made him smile, pushing down the memory of his uncle's treachery. 'If we do, let's make it significantly larger and grander than Silver's.'

Another sigh, although he thought it was an amused one. 'Kai, we're all on the same side now.'

'That's going to take more than a few hours to get used to. And I still want a bigger embassy than he has.' He tried not to sound petulant. The memory of the fae's lips pressed to Irene's still stung him. Childish though it was, Kai couldn't help feeling pained that he couldn't kiss her back to life himself. He might not have fae magic, but is depth of feeling for Irene surely exceeded any glamour the lecherous libertine could summon.

He felt her lips on his cheek, sending a hot shiver through his core. 'He might have woken me from the dead, but it's you I choose to share my bed with.' She squeezed his hand, and he had the disturbing thought that perhaps she could actually read his mind. She continued in a lighter tone, 'Still, if it makes you happy, we shall have the biggest Embassy in London.'

'And we'll need proper clothing,' he added, warming to his topic. The idea of shopping for clothes always cheered Kai up. 'You could get some of those Worth gowns, just in case Bradamant comes visiting.' He liked the idea of Irene wearing a really beautiful dress, rather than the determinedly drab garb she insisted on whenever she had the option. Something frivolous and stunning, something worthy of her value. She deserved to enjoy the simple pleasure of an extravagant outfit.

She snorted a laugh. 'I like that our main concerns in this worthy and frankly terrifying endeavour are getting one over on our enemies and improving the luxury of our living conditions.'

'We're already thinking like politicians, and we were only appointed an hour ago. Well done us.' He shifted a little, allowing their bodies to press warmly together. 'You're supposed to be sleeping.'

'Why is it that no matter how tired one is, as soon as you tell yourself to sleep, you can't?' Irene complained. She still sounded tired, her voice blurred with it.

'The perverse nature of the human mind.' He rubbed her palm with his thumb, and pitched his voice low and hypnotic. 'Breathe deeply now. Imagine… imagine we're on a flying sleigh. Wearing second hand clothes, and coats with fur collars. You're tired, very tired, and bruised, aching. Just like you are now. You're a little cold, but I put my arm around you and pull you close, and now you're beautifully warm, my body heat and yours combining together. You know that you're safe, that I can protect you from any harm that might come your way. The air is cool on your face, and your limbs are warm and heavy. You rest your head on my shoulder. I tell you to get some sleep. You try to resist, but gradually you drift… drift… safe, in my arms, high above the world.'

He paused, and to his surprise her breath was slow and regular, her head lolling against him. He hadn't expected to lull her to sleep so easily, exhausted though she clearly was. The sight of her sleeping always aroused fiercely protective feelings in him, an urge to physically cocoon her and shield the vulnerable human body from the cruel world. In sleep, she gave the impression of being yielding and soft. It was a dangerously misleading impression, and yet in this matter Kai wanted to be misled. He needed her to have that edge of well-hidden vulnerability, else what could he protect?

Kai lay back in the flickering firelight to watch over her, a red glint in his own eyes. He knew he never wanted to watch her nearly die again. They'd had so many close shaves in their time together, but the aftermath of the attack in the hotel room had been the worst. For a few seconds, that had felt eternal and would be forever etched in his mind, he'd really thought he'd lost her. The aching chasm of loss that he'd thankfully only glimpsed must not ever be opened again. He smiled down at her sleeping face, and his lips silently formed the word he wouldn't risk using directly to her.

'Mine.'