[ Reggio's men have been promised to do their finest work in their darkest hour, but Daemon seldom trusts them to get anything done. Someone moved into his home, tried to attack his family. The assassin is gone, but the threat looms over what could have been a lovely morning.

Daemon's grip tightens in a way that could almost deem threatening. A truer indication of his feelings than his answer, which deflects with his mouth pressed against her breastbone beneath the sheerness of her sleeping gown.]

They've increased the guard on the manse. [ He doles out information between pressed kisses, aimless in their ambition. He's just needily close. ] Reggio's informants have been working in the city to track down the assassin and who hired them.