Page 62 of To Catch A Rogue
"Wait, Chiyoh!" the stranger barked, gliding out of the dissipating smoke. "Don't kill her."
The knife eased against her throat.
"Niko," the woman warned. "She could be an assassin."
"She could be." He strode toward Lark. "But a dead assassin tells no tales. Convince me to spare your life. Whom are you working for?"
Lark's eyes rolled. She couldn't see who had her, but the woman was taller than she was. And the knife was sharp.
"The Ravens? The Feodorevna’s? Sergey?"
"No one! And I'm not an assassin!"
He tore the scarf from Lark's mouth and nose and flicked his fingers. A burst of light seared her eyes, making her flinch back into the caress of the woman holding her. It looked like some sort of magic, but she could hear the chemical hiss of something as it burned.
Then she was looking into a face carved of angles; all cheekbones and fine aquiline nose. Full, almost sulky mouth, and hazel eyes that sat beneath dark brows.
The pair of them started.
It was like looking into a mirror. A male mirror.
"What devilry is this?" he breathed.
Lark forgot everything. The knife at her throat. The fight. She could barely breathe. "Who are you?" she whispered.
"Let her go," the stranger snarled.
"Are you certain—"
"Did I just give you an order?" He turned those cold eyes on the woman he'd called Chiyoh.
Lark suddenly staggered as the knife left her throat. She crouched low, instinct preparing her to defend herself, but shock rampaged through her system.
She couldn't have run in that moment, even if she'd wanted to.
"Kolya?" she whispered, for the woman had called him Niko.
From what she'd managed to piece together after the attack, the carriage carrying her brothers and father was assaulted on the way home by a handful of unknown assassins.
Ones hired by Sergey, of course.
But if there was a possibility Dmitri had escaped, then why not Nikolai too?
But why...? Why was he not the Prince of Tsaritsyn?
Why had Sergey been sighted here?
Was he working with Sergey?
With... the enemy?
Niko grabbed her by the throat, slamming her back against the wall and putting the tip of his knife directly to her carotid. Any hint of warmth evaporated from his face, his eyes as a deadly as a shark's. "You think this is a game? Who hired you? Who paid you?" He turned her face to each side, examining every inch of her. "It's an excellent likeness, to be sure, but it's not difficult to find a second-rate actress. Did they think I'd be merciful if I saw your face?"
Lark clung to his wrist, trying to ease the press of the blade. "Nobody... paid me." She tilted her head back, trying not to breathe too sharply. "Was looking for... a... friend."
"In Grigoriev Palace?" A sneer curled his lip. "Do you think me a fool? You went straight for the passageway. You knew how to open it. Who gave you that information?"
Someonehadbeen watching her all along.
