“Look who finally decided to join us,” Alaric said, sprawled comfortably in my private quarters in Naked Den. “I was beginning to think you were never coming back.”
He was lounging in my favorite high-back chair, arms draped like the lazy duke he was, a wide grin devouring his face as he watched me with sly amusement.
“Do you not have pressing duties in Frostmoor Keep?” I asked dryly stepping inside, weary from the journey. “Perhaps something noble like reviewing the old Book of Spells?”
“Please.” He waved a hand, grinning like a damn cheshire cat. “After you ignored all seven of my letters? Duties can wait. The moment I caught the faintest wind that you were returning, I knew I had to come welcome my dear old friend.”
“And by ‘wind’ you mean Vincent and his infamously loose lips.”
“Y
