lawyer with a secret that undoubtedly would end up with him having her committed. Not gonna happen. No way! Her trust in Quentin would only go so far. She had no other choice but to lay her secret to rest with her grandfather.
Grace snagged four tissues from the dark cherry bookshelf behind the desk, then blotted her eyes and softly blew her nose. Through her grief, her even-numbered demon still managed to rear its ugly head. After glancing down at the thin tissues in her hand, she sighed and shoved them all in her pocket.
With one final glance around the room, she left in search of Quentin.
If there were carpet under his feet, Quentin would have worn a path from his pacing by now. Gentle sobs from under the door of the study caused him to pause. Self-doubt painfully twisted at his insides, an emotion foreign to his kind. Once Guardian to Christophe, he was now Guardian to his granddaughter. What if he failed? What if he was wrong for her? The gnawing was relentless. So was the pull to console her; however, duty kept Quentin’s feet planted on the dark wood flooring. After a few moments, his feet gave in to the nervousness and continued to pace up and down the wide-open hallway.
Generations of family portraits watching him on his nervous walkabout did little for his nerves. If anything, they made things worse. They all seemed to be judging him from the perch of their perfect mountings. “What the hell are you looking at? I got you guys through it, didn’t I?” He scowled. In fact, he’d fulfilled his duty with every single one of them. So, why was this one so different from all the others? The answer was obvious…Grace.
Quentin wasn’t afraid of dying. He’d lived so long that he often fantasized about it. What he did fear was failing. He feared her dying, because of him. A shiver ran up his spine at the thought.
Others must know about her by now, he thought. The contents of Quentin’s stomach rose in protest at the notion, and he pressed a hand to his chest as if to suppress it. A slight jangle from the office door handle pushed his queasiness back down. The seneschal band around his left bicep warmed beneath his shirtsleeve as soon as Grace stepped through the doorway, pulling his emotions and focus back to his purpose, to his duty. Unfortunately, the man in him marveled at how tall and beautiful she had become. He had to tear his thoughts from wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked, or if her mahogany hair would feel like silk running through his fingers. His gaze moved back to her face, catching the sheen in her round, moss-colored eyes, which stared back at him expectantly.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“No.” The pain in her voice cut through the membrane surrounding his heart, making his insides hurt.
Instead of asking a host of lame questions to fill the quiet, he waited for her move. After all, he did understand. Christophe wasn’t just another Chosen. He was a close friend—a brother. Quentin was beyond saddened by the death of the Chosen. He truly grieved him.
A piece of Quentin’s spirit broke the day Christophe left his mortal body. The fact he would never see him again, in this life or the next, made his passing that much harder to accept. He could only imagine what Grace was going through. And because he could understand a little, it seemed reasonable he would feel the impulse to console her.
“I’m not sure where you’re supposed to fit in to all of this, but…” she said, and then looked solemnly at her knotted hands as if lost in thought. “I’m sorry. I really don’t even know what to ask you.”
Quentin had to force his arms back down as they automatically came up to envelop her. “You don’t have to say anything.”
A small smile crinkled the edges of her luminous eyes when she brought her gaze back up to his. Remaining tears covered them like glass, mirroring almost his full reflection. Grace stood erect, but the pain in her eyes was a giveaway she was close to collapsing. Her sorrow was palpable. The pull to embrace her, to comfort her, rocked him and left him a little unsteady.
“What about the bank?”
“It’s important, but you can take a couple of days to mourn, Grace. The safe deposit box will still be there when we get there.