Free King's Gambit by Ashley Meira Page A

still attractive, but it made me feel embarrassed more than anything else.
    “Suffering is the curse of the fashion savvy?” I said sheepishly.
    “How are bags not fashionable?”
    “Not bags, clutches. Because they have no strap and it’s a waste of a hand to hold them.”
    “I still don’t–”
    “Can I use your phone or not?”
    He fished the device out of his pocket and handed it to me. For the first time this week, Alex actually answered his phone. Yay. The thought came to me in a spiteful little voice; it took more than being stabbed to get rid of my bitterness.
    “Hello?”
    I put the vial with Franklin’s blood back into my cleavage, ignoring Khalil’s look. “It’s Morgan. Can you meet me? Up the main staircase and down the west hallway, fifth door on the left.”
    “On my way.” No questions asked. I appreciated that. He appeared a minute later and quickly closed the door behind him when he saw the state of the room. “Umm…?”
    “You two should go,” said Khalil. “I’ll handle this.”
    “What?” I frowned, my brows coming together. “I can call this in.”
    “And risk getting caught with those vials? Best to go see Elise now and pay lip service to Flavius later.” He pulled out a handkerchief and grabbed a handful of Robert’s ashes with it. “Give this to her, too. Just in case.”
    Alex took the hanky, tied it off, and put it in his pocket. At our look, he said, “I don't see a purse.”
    Khalil grinned. “Do you think that would fit in your–”
    “Thank you for taking care of this, Khalil,” I said firmly before softening up. “Be careful, okay? If Flavius thinks you and Marcus are behind this…”
    “He doesn’t know we’re working together.”
    I placed a hand on his arm, ignoring Alex’s frown. “If he thinks you’re involved with anything like this, you’re as good as dead. You don’t have the clout Marcus has, Flavius won’t care what happens.”
    The corners of Khalil’s lips quirked up. “And you do?”
    “We’re partners, aren’t we?”
    The quirk turned into a full smile. “This whole night has been an exercise in overused phrases, hasn't it?”
    “Not to interrupt your little moment,” said Alex, “but are we leaving or not?”
    “You should,” Khalil said flatly, looking at Alex like he was a fly buzzing too close to his ear. “Your boyfriend appears to be up past his bedtime.”
    Alex stepped forward. “You–”
    “Whoa.” I came up between them, pressing a hand flat against each of their chests. “Enough. You want to whip’em out and measure’em? Go ahead. Later. When there isn’t a twice-dead body around and assassins aren’t breaking through windows. Let’s go.”
    “Assassins?” Alex asked, looking fifty percent confused puppy and one hundred percent pissed off alpha male.
    “I’ll explain on the way,” I said, the cold floor numbing my feet. “Um, could I borrow your socks?”

    “I’d offer you something to drink, but…” Elise trailed off, gesturing vaguely into the air.
    “It’s fine,” I said. “Unless you’ve got some alcohol on-hand for thaumaturgical rituals.”
    “Unfortunately not,” she said with a small smile before looking me over, wrinkles forming in her forehead. “…Would you like to borrow a pair of shoes?”
    I looked down at the dress socks I was wearing. They were surprisingly comfortable to walk in, even outside. However, I barely made it a foot past the lobby door before Alex insisted on carrying me. I felt like an overgrown child the entire time, but couldn’t bring myself to protest the closeness.
    I made a mental note to ask where he bought them before nodding to Elise with a sheepish smile. Alex was sitting next to me, in the same spot Khalil had occupied last night, looking as if everything around was about to jump up and bite him. Apparently, he wasn’t fond of thaumaturges. I didn’t blame him. The majority of renegade mages the Order hunted were either infernalists or crazed