Page 9 of Cinder's Trial
“It’s obvious you two have a past,” Killian stated with a shrug.
“Oh no we don’t,” I huffed. “As if I’d date him.” I preferred my potential partners to be bookish and less kill-stuff-with-a-sword.
“I’m sorry, princess. Does my presence offend thee?” mocked Levi.
“Just your attitude. I shall eat popcorn and cheer the day someone adjusts it for you.” Funny how I could be meek about certain things and around some people; however, something about Levi roused the prickly porcupine in me.
Killian sat his ass on the edge of my desk. “So, Agent Jones, I hear you’re to be my liaison with the bureau. Not quite sure what that entails.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “But given my specialty is digging for information and putting the pieces of it together, most likely, I’ll be screening guests and ensuring Levi here doesn’t accidentally decapitate someone you actually like.”
“If they pose a threat, then I will do what I must,” grumbled Levi.
“Without killing if you don’t mind. We don’t need a diplomatic incident,” I reminded.
“I know how to do my job,” Levi grumbled.
“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be in charge of the Grimm Knights. I’m just suggesting you don’t make a mess while doing it.”
Killian spread his hands. “She is right. Blood is devilishly hard to rinse out of the uniforms my mother made me pack.” He turned at me to confide, “They’re white, which is very impractical, but she insisted.”
My lips quirked. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot of white from the hopefuls.” A lot of Cinderella-cursed ladies tended to chase their princes in wedding gowns.
“I’m thinking we should discuss the ball and other things over lunch. Any suggestions?” Killian queried.
“Depends. Fancy sit-down, casual sit-down, or stand-up eating from something that can drive away?”
His laughter rang out. “Oh, Agent Jones. If I was in the market for a wife, you might just be perfect. Give me some diesel fumes with my meal, please.”
“If you’re feeling adventurous, I know a food truck that serves the most insane waffle sandwiches with fresh kettle chips.”
“Lead the way, Agent Jones.” Killian offered me a courtly bow, at odds with his appearance.
“My pleasure, Prince Killian.” I rose from my desk and snared my purse.
“Let’s avoid the prince part. Call me Killian. It will attract less attention in public that way.”
“In that case, call me Cinder.”
“I’m surprised you changed your name, given your stance on the curse,” Killian remarked as we headed for the elevator, trailed by Levi, who continued to scowl.
“Actually, my mom named me Cinderella at birth because she loved that story growing up.” Little did she know what would happen with the Grimm Effect.
“A pity the curse prefers the darker versions of the fairytales,” Killian remarked as the elevator descended.
“Are the nicer ones really all that better, given the curse essentially removes free will?” Not entirely true but the manipulation by the Grimm Effect, which sometimes included transformation, often made it feel that way.
“You make a good po—aaah!”
The prince—and me, I might add—yelled as the elevator suddenly plunged!
4
When the elevator crashed after letting go and plummeting, I didn’t die. Mostly because a large male body cushioned me from impact.
The elevator hit the bottom of the shaft hard, rattling my teeth, eyeballs, and bones, and left me stunned atop someone. It took me a moment to blink my eyes into focus and find my face practically smooshed against Levi’s.
I pulled back and managed a shaky, “That was unexpected.”