Silas braced himself in his room, secured to the wall by a set of runed bindings that should secure all magic. Amelia had fixed the bindings before midnight, standing back to admire her handiwork with a quiet smile. “I don’t like that look,” Silas had said warily. Biting her lip, she backed away, a hint of mischief there that had him shifting restlessly beneath the bindings. “I like you like this,” Amelia admitted. Silas narrowed his eyes. “Tied to the wall?”
