“Lachlan Weir.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Never heard of you.”
“Edie! Who’s at the door?” a female voice with an American accent calls from the stairs, and I see a young woman come upbehind the little girl. “Oh! I was expecting you tomorrow,” she says, her large blue eyes boring into mine.
I had nowhere else to go.
“That’s okay,” she says quickly, seeing my hesitation. “Come in. I’ll make some coffee.”
I step inside as the little girl skips away, and the woman turns to face me. Taking her casual clothes and curly hair in fully, it takes me a moment to realize I’m staring attheLady of Darkness.
Lady Harlow Windsor.
“Right, first things first. The guys might make you call them the Lords, but you can just call me Harlow,” she says, matter-of-factly. Her eyes skim over my face and neck before she crosses her arms. “You must be Lachlan?”
I open and close my mouth, suddenly realizing the little girl must be her daughter.
Theirdaughter.
“That’s me,” I say slowly, holding a hand out.
Harlow takes it, her grip firm. Her face is bare of makeup, and she just seems so much more… normal than I expected.
Thisis the deadliest person in the world? She can’t be more than five foot three, and she looks more like a Uni student than a deadly assassin in her oversized jumper and baggy jeans.
“Come on. I can make you coffee, and Rose made some sandwiches earlier. We can talk and get to know each other.”
She turns and walks away, and I have no choice but to set my bag down and follow her. The house is… brighter than I would’ve imagined. The white curtains are pulled away from all the windows. The way the light bounces off the fabric illuminates all the dark crevices of the old house. Modern art with colorful paint strokes, lighter-colored furniture, and pops of color everywhere. It’s not like I have experience with posh houses but I guess Ialways thought they’d be stuffy and dark, filled to the brim with dark wood and gilded paintings of royal ancestors.
Once we reach the kitchen, Harlow walks over to a fancy looking machine. “So? Coffee, tea…?”
“Do you have anything a bit stronger?”
She smirks. “Of course. I’m sure Alaric won’t mind if I get you a bit of his favorite whiskey.”
She walks past me, and I hear the tinkling of glasses coming from what I presume is a dining room.
“Come on. We can get started while we wait for the others.”
I walk into a formal dining room, surprised to see paperwork already set up at five of the places. I stand behind one of the chairs, not wanting to sit until I’m told. Harlow sets a glass tumbler full of amber liquid in front of me before sitting down at the head of the table, hands clasped together.
I take a seat next to her.
“So…” she says slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “Your scores were the highest out of all the people we tested. And yet… you didn’t even finish secondary school.”
“Ah. Diving right into it, then,” I joke, reaching for the tumbler and relishing in the smooth burn all the way down my throat. I haven’t had a drink in…five years.
Harlow watches me expectantly.
“What, exactly, do you want to know? Being who you are, I can assume that you already know everything there is to know about me.”
“I do. But I want to hear it from your mouth.”
“Alright. The reason I didn’t finish school is because I went to prison. Twice, actually, because I violated my parole and they sent me back. While I was there, I spent my days with books. I taught myself advanced maths and science. I read all the classic literature, and I have all the important historical dates memorized.”
Harlow’s lips twitch, and she leans forward slightly. Her dark blue eyes feel like they’re taking hold of my very soul, and as they narrow, I suddenly understand why she’s so good at her job.
“You’re not seriously telling me that you learned how to assemble a hand-made bomb in prison, are you?”
