Chapter 30: Let The Towel Hit The Floor

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Thank you to kalliopi041 for getting me into this bird and comparing it to Dagen. I cherish this bird with my whole heart.

Edit: so a reader let me know that I didn't have a pre-sex conversation about protection, and I wanted to say that I did WRITE one but my brain thought I'd already posted it but it never actually GOT written into the chapters. I will be working that conversation into the next chapter because talks about protection BEFORE having sex are extremely important and it keeps you safe and healthy :)

Also Smut warning :)

Norah

Norah perched on the bench, dark sunglasses on that were being used for more reasons than just to dampen the early morning sun. Topher sat next to her, face tipped back, drinking in the rays.

"Have we ever met before?" he mused.

"Not that I remember." She watched Eoin, swinging his legs off the bench, hands in his lap as he watched the birds and dragons flying over the buildings.

"You seem familiar," he hummed, more to himself than her.

"Yeah," Norah sighed, as if annoyed by the thought. "I have one of those faces. I always get free drinks because people think I'm someone else."

Topher crooned. "Poor thing."

Norah scanned the semi-busy street from behind her dark shades. No one gave her much notice and she felt more comfortable walking around with her hair dyed. If anyone was looking for Norah Crimson, they would be looking for a girl with long, brown hair, not chin-length, black hair with brown roots.

She made a mental note to get more hair dye later.

Norah stopped a man before he threw out his newspaper into the blue bin and flipped it open. She skimmed over Khalier's attack. The news said it was a dark mage bombing but Norah was more interested in the article about Blackwell.

He'd been arrested for tax evasion and treason. Apparently rumors had spread about a secret love child he'd kept hidden for decades, and then rumors about his closed doors meetings. Word spread too fast for Blackwell to extinguish or pay off officials to turn a blind eye without anyone noticing.

His career was destroyed and the old man would most likely die of old age before he could pay his way out.

Norah's lips pursed, a small smile tilting her lips. She tossed the newspaper into the bin.

She wondered what strings Holland pulled to get such information out.

Dagen came out of the post office, his face flat, his dark brows drawn. His brother hopped off the bench to join him.

Topher looked down from the sky, spread his arms. "I've been out here so long I got tan lines."

Dagen said nothing, only nodded for them to get going. Norah followed, keeping a neat pace.

"What are you guys going to do now?"

"Eat," said Topher, hanging on Dagen's left. "What do you feel like today, Dagen? Eggs? Pancakes? I'm starving."

"Women," Dagen mused, side-eyeing her.

Norah would give him no such satisfaction of acknowledging him and kept her gaze ahead, scanning the semi-crowded streets. "While you guys eat, I'm going to run some errands."

"Where are you going?" Dagen asked, curious. But his eyes prodded her with questions and she found nothing sexual in those sharp eyes. Off to steal and kill? Do you need a thief to save the day?

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