Page 91 of Arcane Entanglement
“Yes.” Solomon tucked his hands in his pockets, his brow furrowing. “TheNoctis Bloombusiness is booming.” He glanced at Evander. “Looks like someone is intending to use a boatload of dark magic soon.”
Evander’s brief reprieve faded as the thrall filled him in onNightshade’s most recent findings, including whispers in the underworld hinting at some kind of large-scale sinister plot on the horizon.
The mage sensed there was something else on Solomon’s mind from the brooding looks the thrall occasionally stole at him as they walked.
Solomon finally spoke when they neared Mayfair.
“Your Grace, may I be frank?”
“Of course.”
Solomon hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“This thing between you and Viggo. I have concerns.”
Evander stiffened, conscious the thrall was overstepping the mark. What he and Viggo chose to do was their personal business. Still, he was curious to know what was troubling the Brute’s right-hand man.
“What sort of concerns?”
Solomon didn’t answer straight away.
“Viggo has been through a lot,” the thrall finally said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “He doesn’t trust people easily, especially not mages. But he trusts you.” Solomon glanced at him. “If that trust ends up being misplaced, I don’t know what it will do to him.”
Understanding dawned on Evander. Solomon’s apprehension wasn’t based on prejudice or disapproval.
“You’re worried I’ll hurt him,” he said quietly.
A muscle twitched in Solomon’s cheek.
“Viggo is more than just my boss. He’s one of my dearest friends. I’ve seen him weather storms that would break most men. But this? If this goes wrong…” The thrall trailed off. “He has never looked at another man or woman the way he looks at you.”
Evander swallowed, thrilled in part by Solomon’s words and equally nervous by their gravity. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had similar worries, particularly in view of the secret he had yet to reveal to Viggo.
“I understand your disquiet. And I appreciate your loyalty to Viggo. But I want you to know that my feelings for him are genuine. I would never intentionally hurt him. I—” Evander stopped and clenched his fists. “Viggo means a lot to me.”
Solomon studied him intently, as if trying to read the truth in his eyes. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, at least for now.
“See to it that you don’t,” he grunted. “Viggo deserves happiness.” He hesitated. “And for what it’s worth, I think you might be good for him.”
Evander’s townhouse came into view.
“See you soon, your Grace.” Solomon slowed and melted into the shadows.
Evander climbed the steps to his front door, his mind full of the exchange he’d just had with Viggo’s right-hand man. He was barely inside when Hargrove appeared, a strange look on his face.
“You have a visitor, my Lord,” the manservant said as Evander gave him his coat. “The Ironfist—I mean, Mr. Stonewall is here to see you. I’ve shown him to your study.”
Evander’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, Hargrove. I’ll see to him now.”
He made his way swiftly to the study and paused outside for a moment to collect himself before twisting the doorknob.
Viggo was standing by the fireplace, his broad frame silhouetted against the light of the dancing flames. He turned when Evander entered. His dark eyes scanned the mage from head to toe, as if checking for injuries.
“You’re late.”
Evander registered the concern underlying his gruff note. A mixture of emotions clogged his throat at the sight of the Brute, his composure rattled once more.
“My apologies.” He forced a small smile. “The investigation took longer than any of us expected.”
