Page 50 of Thief of Souls
“I don’t work with amateurs.”
“Tell me again… howdidBelladonna lure you into a trap?”
“Because I’m trying to play by the fucking rules,” I growl. As Merisel, I gain entrée to the highest circles in the land, but it also comes with its own shackles.
“Wrong.” Keir leans back in his chair. “You’re trying to work alone. You had your sister to watch your back when you stole into my realm. This time, you will have me.”
It’s like arguing with a brick wall. I throw my hands up. “Fine. On one condition: I’m in charge. And you will obey me. If I tell you to do something, then I want to see you do it. Immediately.”
“Agreed.” Just like that, he eases back in his chair.
Oh, no. I’m not that foolish.
He wants something from me and thinks he just managed a way to get it.
But what?
“Talk to me about your plans,” he says.
“Something’s going on with this wedding.” I suckle the yoghurt off the spoon. “Neither the bride nor the groom seems to be satisfied with the arrangement.”
“Did Belladonna give you a timeframe in which to kill Alaric?”
“Before the wedding.” I frown at the wallpaper. “I’m not sure what to do there. I have four days to kill the Lord of Mistmark—or die myself.”
“You’re not going to die.” There’s a faint hint of the growl back in his voice.
Fine. We won’t return to that argument—because I’m fairly certain it’s only going to end with me pinned to the breakfast table.
“So next move?” he asks.
“There was something Anissa said about letters. ‘The letters have to be here somewhere….’” In my experience, it’s the little details that deliver the dragon’s horde. “Since Soraya was posing as her maid, I have to presume she somehow got her hands on compromising letters.”
“Blackmail?”
“Maybe.” I tap the spoon against my lips. “It’s not the way I’d play it. The point is to remain unseen.”
“The question is: Does Anissa thinkSorayawas the one blackmailing her or did someone else take the letters and use her to cover their tracks?”
I have no answer to that. “More questions, no answers.”
“Then what’s next?”
“Mistmark’s assassin, Falion, said he gave the bridal tithe to a questing beast.”
Keir looks up sharply. “Assassin?”
Right. I haven’t quite had a chance to fill His Highness in on the entirety of the previous day. I swiftly tell him about the meeting between Mistmark and Falion in the maze.
“And he saw you in the shadows?” he muses.
I recall the way Falion searched the party. “I don’t think he saw me. I think he sensed someone watching him. He knew someone was there—don’t ask me how—but he didn’t know who.”
Keir brushes his thumb against his mouth thoughtfully. “Hmm. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone in Mistmark’s party matching that description.”
“Do you.... Do you think there’s another Shadow Walker out there?” The urge to clear my throat is incredibly strong. I’ve never met anyone like me before. I’ve never met anyone who even knows what Iamapart from Keir and my father.
His gaze cuts to me. “It’s possible. It was an ancient gift that was bred through the bloodlines of only two courts; the Court of Shadows and the Court of the Moon and Stars. Both royal houses could walk the shadows, thanks to a common ancestor, though until you appeared, I was under the impression the gift had been long-lost to the Court of Shadows.”
