“Or?”
“Or we keep it.” She looked up at him. “As a backup. A safe house. The wards my father taught my mother are still some of the best protection magicaround. And it's far enough from Mythic that if we ever needed somewhere to disappear to...”
Brandon understood immediately. Just in case the Consilium found them. In case Silas's cover story didn't hold.
“Good idea,” he said, coming to sit beside her. “We can strengthen the wards even more. Layer my techniques on top of your father's work and turn it into a fortress.”
“And I could keep the gardens going.” Her voice went soft. “Visit regularly. Tend the herbs my mother planted. It was her sanctuary. I'd like to keep it alive.”
“Then it’s settled.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “We'll go this weekend. We’ll pack up what you want to bring here and secure what stays there.”
“Thank you.” She leaned against him. “For understanding. For not thinking I'm being paranoid.”
“After what we've been through? Paranoia is just good planning.” He kissed the top of her head. “Besides, I like the idea of you having a place that's connected to your mother. Our relationship doesn't mean you give up pieces of yourself.”
She smiled.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just remembering something Ana said about mating bonds not changing who we are, just creating a better version of ourselves.”
“She’s a wise woman.”
“Speaking of keeping things,” Muriel said, “we should do something to thank everyone who helped with the rescue. The pack, Zarek's team, Ana and Vlane—everyone.”
Brandon smiled. “Vlane's annual masquerade ball is in three weeks.”
“The masquerade ball?” Muriel's eyes widened. “That's a huge deal, isn't it? Jessie mentioned it once. She said it's like the social event of the year in Mythic.”
“It is. Everyone who helped will be there. It would be the perfect opportunity to thank them properly. Publicly.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I've never been to anything like that.”
“Then it's time.” He pulled her closer. “You’re part of this community now. Something tells me if you don’t go, we’ll have the entire SLUT club pounding at the doors.”
Muriel laughed. “Okay,” she said. “Let's do it.”
Brandon adjustedhis silver mask in the mirror and tried to remember the last time he'd attended Vlane's masquerade without dreading it.
Usually, the annual event was something to endure—hours of small talk, deflecting questions about why he was still alone, watching couples dance while he talked to others about magical artifacts to pass the time.
This year was different.
This year, he had Muriel.
“I can't believe you talked me into this,” she said from the bedroom, and he turned to find her in the doorway wearing an emerald green gown that made his breath catch.
“You look beautiful,” he said, once he managed to find words again.
She blushed, adjusting her matching mask. “It's so fancy. What if I trip? What if I say something stupid?”
He crossed to her, gently adjusting her mask. “Then I'll catch you. And everyone will think whatever you said was charming because they already love you.”
“You're biased.”
“Extremely.” He kissed her softly, careful not to smudge her lipstick. “But also right. You belong here, Muriel. You belong with me. The rest is just details.”
“Is it any wonder I love you so much?” she murmured.