The words stole the breath from him. The second he’d seen the Grigoriev family tree in the file with his name on it, the thought had been constantly on his mind. He had very little recollection of his past, the memories conditioned out of him by Ghost and Dr. Richter.
When he and the otherdhampirescaped Falkirk Asylum, he'd considered them brothers. Family. But the revelation of the way they'd used him had torn that from him. Discovering hemightbe a Grigoriev gave birth to something new within him. Not hope, perhaps, for he knew the entire family had died years ago, when Sergey became the new Prince of Tsaritsyn.
But a sense of identity he'd been lacking all these years.
Obsidian leveled a dead-eyed stare upon Balfour. "If you think to play this game with me, then I warn you to play it carefully."
"Did you never wonder why I wanted you kept alive all these years? Ghost disobeyed orders when he moved to attack you, and he paid with the cost of his life. You were never supposed to be harmed—"
"Just manipulated, with every sense of myself stripped from me. And most likely at your orders." Somehow he was on his feet, one hand on the desk as he loomed toward Balfour. "You think I owe you anything? Give me one good reason not to kill you. Because I could." His voice dropped, a silky whisper of death. "I want to."
Balfour didn't even flinch. "How is this for a reason? If I die, then so does your Company of Rogues' precious Malloryn. What would your beloved Gemma say if you cost her the life of the man she idolizes?"
It froze him, and somehow he managed to choke back the anger and rage.
"I have people in place here, keeping an eye on the situation," Balfour continued brazenly. "If any harm befalls me then a servant will light a fire somewhere within the house and pour a certain chemical into it. I'm told the smoke burns a furious red. You cannot miss it. The second Jelena sees that fire, Malloryn dies. Slowly. Painfully."
It would break Gemma.
She blamed herself for the duke's kidnapping, despite the fact that she couldn't have done a damned thing to stop it.
Obsidian straightened, wiping every ounce of emotion from his expression. "Then what do you want of me?"
"I want you to kill Sergey Grigoriev for me. And I need it to look like an accident. In return, I will give you proof of your birth family and where you came from."
Silence.
"You want me to assassinate a prince of the Blood? He's a blue blood, Balfour. How do I cut off his head or remove his heart and make it seem like an accident?"
"You're the expert. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
Damn him.
"I will... consider it."
"You have less than six days," Balfour told him. "I want it done before the Tsarina announces her chosen heir at her ball."
Obsidian pushed to his feet. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
* * *
By the timeObsidian returned to their rooms, Gemma was pacing the sitting room, the ruffles on her hem swishing about her with every angry step.
She'd have heard everything through the listening device planted beneath Balfour's desk, along with the rest of the Rogues gathered here: Byrnes, Ingrid, Kincaid, Ava, Charlie, and Lark.
"This is insane." Gemma turned on him, her blue eyes flashing. They'd set up the high-pitched oscillating device that prevented anyone from listening in, and though it made his ears ache, at least they could speak freely. "Balfour's setting a trap for you. Why would he want Sergey dead? He practically put him in the position he's in. Sergey took the princedom, but Balfour spent years building him into a legitimate power here in Russia—and now he wants him dead?"
Obsidian hauled the cravat from around his throat, wrapping it around his knuckles and imagining it was Balfour's neck. "A mystery, to be sure."
"Not to mention, it's a dangerous target," Charlie said. He dwarfed an armchair in the corner, his gaze straying toward the young woman perusing the bookshelf in the corner. He probably didn't realize how often he looked at Lark. "Assassinating a prince of the Blood right before the tsarina's final ball? Good way to get us all killed."
Byrnes winced. "The second we do, it wouldn't surprise me if Balfour turned around and pointed his finger directly at us. Then he gets rid of Sergey, who's clearly outlived his purpose, and he manages to neatly frame us for the murder of a prince of the Blood. Two enemies, one stone. And no matter how much we protest our innocence, I'm sure nobody will believe Balfour arranged it. Oh no, his hands will be clean."
Us. Sometimes it surprised him how easily the Rogues had welcomed him into the group. "That did occur to me."
"You could say no," Ava said earnestly. "He cannot make you do this."
Obsidian exchanged a long, slow look with Gemma. "Balfour's being generous. First, he offers me a trade."