Page 103 of A Reign of Roses
We both looked back at Mari, still rubbing her neck. And then to Griffin, from his spot close beside her. Studying us—my stone-faced commander showed no remorse.
Disappointment soured my expression. He’d acted on impulse, and nearly killed the old man—the only one who could retrieve the false ledger for us.
“Take her outside,” I ordered him.
Not my friend, in that moment. Not my family. My commander.
“But—”
“Now.”
Griffin frowned, but did as he was told. I drew in a steadying breath as both his and Mari’s footsteps sounded down the hallway.
“We’re here for the replicated ledger that was ordered days ago,” I said to Oleander, who had at least exhausted himself enough to halt his unflattering squirming. His nose was indented where spectacles usually sat. The wiry white hairs in his ears and nose long and unkempt. “The one with the false names.”
“I know that,” he spat.
Arwen’s brows creased. “You do?”
“I told your king here I knew what you sought. And that I’d never give it to any of you.”
“So you did craft it?”
“I never would have, if I’d known it was forhim.The demon king of Onyx.” Oleander spat at my shoes, some white froth dribbling down his chin.
Arwen sucked in a gasp.
My eyes fell to my dark boots, speckled with saliva, and my lips curved. I guess I knew now why he’d refused to relocate to Willowridge.
“What has he ever done toyou?” Arwen’s voice held more offense than I felt. Her ire on my behalf was quite endearing. But I’d had many lifetimes of people who barely knew me despising me regardless. Arwen herself had once looked at me that way.
“What kind of question is that? He’s slaughtered good men,” the old man spat, hatred in his eyes. “Sacked my lands. Raped and pillaged.”
Sacked his lands…I’d left all of Evendell alone since I came to the continent. Frankly, it was self-serving—I didn’t need anyone knowing too much about me, or putting together how slowly I aged. I’d only gone to war with Amber when they’d aligned with my father. And I’d certainly notsackedany Garnet land, even when they joined Amber’s forces. They were a mighty kingdom with a mercenary army and armada. But…I raised a brow. “You’re from Amber?”
Oleander’s glare confirmed my suspicion.
Arwen’s jaw slackened. The smell of leather and glue filled my nostrils as I attempted a steadying inhale.
“I am not a man of much patience, Oleander. I’ll give you one opportunity to tell us where the replica is. My procurer paid you handsomely for it, and I’d like what’s mine.”
“The procurer I spoke with said it was for a book-making museum in the Pearl Mountains.”
“Yes.” I lowered my brow at him. “I’m sure you can imagine that was by design.”
“You pompous ass,” Oleander swore. “You aren’t listening. I won’t let my work be purchased by a man who destroyed my homeland. Kill me, if you must, but you aren’t getting the ledger.”
“Well, aren’t you a saint?” I drawled, though my blood was beginning to simmer. “Last chance.”
“Sir,” Arwen pleaded. “I, too, am from Amber. I grew up in Abbington, a small town just outside of Rookvale. I never thought I’d align myself with King Ravenwood, either. In fact, I was raised to hate him. But trust me when I say he is not who he’s been made out to be.”
But the bookmaker only sneered at her and I ground my teeth nearly to dust. “Aren’t I, though?”
Arwen’s eyes slid to mine in warning. “Kane—”
Stretching my palm out to the desk beside him, all three sets of our eyes fell to the rows of paints there. Mauves and plums and mustard seed. They became dust in the air in a scattering of pitch-black night.
“No,” the historian uttered in horror. “Kill me. Do not punish the work. This is all…It’s all I have in the world.”
