Shatter the Earth (Cassandra Palmer 10)

That won me a glance over his shoulder. “Best part of my day.”

I cheered up.

Of course, Pritkin and I should have been eating back in Vegas, at the Pythian Court, where the food was better and the ambiance was way better. He had been assigned as my bodyguard by the Circle, and it was a little hard to guard my body from the other side of the planet. But Pritkin knew Faerie better than anybody, and since we were about to invade, the powers that be had wanted his advice.

I wouldn’t have minded so much, except that they’d asked to have him “on loan” so often that it practically amounted to a reassignment! It was as annoying as hell, but I couldn’t really complain when the biggest risk I’d had in the past month—barring today—had been a papercut. Or possibly dying of boredom in some of my formal audiences.

Nobody had told me that being Pythia was mostly about listening to rich people whine about their crappy little problems while trying not to yawn in their faces. Somebody had told me that war was a lot of serious tedium interspersed with moments of sheer terror, however. Which I thought described my job perfectly.

It was why I’d come to terms with Pritkin’s temporary assignment, however much I wanted him home. It gave me a break from the tedium, or in this case, from having to explain my recent adventures to my other bodyguards, who had elevated over protection to an art form. Plus, the cafeteria had a bitchin’ butter chicken.

We got some of the chicken, plus some naan bread, a basket full of crispy little poppadums, and some samosas that I thought were going to be stuffed with tandoori chicken, but turned out to be full of mushy peas.

Pritkin laughed, a full-throated sound that had people at nearby tables glancing our way and then doing a double take, because that didn’t really fit their impression of him. As usual, he didn’t look like he cared, or even noticed. I guess a half demon war mage with bulging muscles straining his khaki fatigues, blond hair that defied gravity, and a temper that made drill sergeants run for cover was used to getting looks.

I, for one, was wishing we’d taken the food back to the little cubby hole of a room they’d assigned him, even if it didn’t have a table. We could eat on the bed, and then we could do other things on the bed, if he had time. Which, considering that his demon half was incubus, was a fair bet.

“You need vegetables,” he told me, eyeing the samosas, before I could make the suggestion.

“I eat vegetables.”

“Name the last time.”

“Last night. I had a salad.”

Green eyes narrowed at me suspiciously, because Pritkin is a health nut. “What kind of salad?”

“You know, the usual.” The gaze did not waver. “Taco,” I admitted.

“That’s not a salad.”

“It had lettuce!”

“Eat your peas.”

I sighed and ate peas. They weren’t too bad if you piled on enough chutney, I decided. Pritkin looked like he was going to say something, and then stopped himself.

Pick your battles, I thought grinning, and caught him checking out my suitcase. “Staying for a while?” he asked, and for a moment, it made me ridiculously pleased that he looked hopeful.

And then reality set in, because shit. Of course, he’d think that; anyone would. That’s why they call it an overnight bag, Cassie!

“Um,” I said, right before the tannoy came on. “Mage Pritkin, Mage John Pritkin, to training bay one immediately.”

I felt relief, and followed swiftly by annoyance, because we’d just sat down!

“What do they want?” I asked.

“Don’t know.” Pritkin made a quick Indian taco out of some naan and a pile of butter chicken. And then quirked a blond eyebrow at me. “Want to wait for me in my room?”

Now, why didn’t I think of that? I wondered, grinning again.

“Don’t take too long.”

Chapter Five

I finished in record time, and not just because the food was good. The war had put me in the newspapers more than once, usually under weird or dangerous circumstances. Couple that with a father who was a well-known dark mage and a mother who was . . . out of this world . . . and there were bound to be glances. With Pritkin there, they’d been a lot more subtle, but afterward, a few people had actually been staring.

I bolted my food and left, still hungry, but wanting to be somewhere else.