She clenched her fists. “We need to talk about breaking into the Brotherhood. I want to get in there now.”

“I’ll join you in a moment, and we’ll talk.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “I’ll keep my gaze on the floor, if you want.”

“Good.”

Orcus’s heels clacked over the flagstones. “Master, I must heal your neck.”

Rosalind rose, holding her ripped shirt closed, and strode across the cold flagstones in her bare feet. She pushed open the door into a stone washroom. A silver, clawfoot bath stood in the center, filled with bubbles and herbs, and candles guttered in spidery sconces. A silver-framed mirror hung over a sink.

She draped the blanket over a chair before slipping out of her underwear and padding over to the tub. She climbed in, lowering herself into the warm water scented with rose petals and foxglove. She leaned back, resting her neck on the tub’s edge. If she weren’t battered by worry, this would be heaven.

As the water melted the ache from her body, she mentally ran through her plan. Magic was useless in the Brotherhood’s chambers, and technology controlled the whole building: retina scanners, key cards to get in and out, auto-locking doors, sensors that detected magical auras, the sprinklers of iron dust… If she controlled the technology, she controlled the Chambers.

She dipped lower in the bath, inhaling the steam. It all started with a laptop. What were the chances that Orcus had a laptop lying around—that he spent his nights gaming or watching online porn?

Behind her, the door creaked open, and she turned her head to find Caine, his eyes downcast. “I’m going to be exercising a lot of restraint for this conversation.”

“I need a laptop.”

“A what?”

“A computer. You know—a digital device? Zeros and ones? Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”

“I’ve heard the word before, but Maremount technology is about four hundred years behind yours.”

She turned to look at him. “Well, magic is no use to us in the Chambers, so we’ve got to use what’s available. I don’t suppose you have a spell that creates a laptop?”

“No. Most of our spells are medieval. I could blight someone’s cabbage crop without a problem.” He pulled off his shirt, and she caught a glimpse of the red streaking his perfect chest. Facing the mirror, he grabbed a cloth, scrubbing at some of the blood. “What, exactly are the details of this plan?”

“If I can hack into the Brotherhood’s computer systems, I can control the building. We can get in; the prisoners can get out.” Suddenly excited, she sat up, and the suds dripped down her skin. “I can turn off the dust, shut down the scanners, unlock the doors. I can control it all.”

His eyes met hers in the reflection, and he paused, his cloth hovering mid-air. He swallowed hard. “I forgot what we were talking about.”

“We were talking about you looking in another direction.”

“Right.” He finished cleaning off the blood and pulled off his pants.