Page 2 of The Puppeteer and the Poisoned Pawn

“I assume you came here for something specific since you’ve had us on your heels for five years.” Aurick takes a seat behind the desk, pouring himself a glass of scotch.

The muscle in Dessin’s jaw twitches. “The Vexamen Breed took something from me. And you’re going to help me get it back.”

“What did they take?”

“None of your concern.”

I want to interject and scold them for getting us nowhere. But I can’t. I’m frozen, trapped in a glass shell. A broken doll to gawk at.

“It is if you want my help,” Aurick argues with a cool smile.

“Oh, you’ll help without that information. Because you’re the one that wants me to win this war.” Dessin looms over the desk like a grim reaper, shadows casting around him. And my stomach dips as his hands grip the edge of the desk, causing the wood to make a whining sound from his weight.

“Fine.” Aurick leans back in his chair. “But I know you. There isn’t anything I can say in this arrangement that will make you believe I won’t try and double-cross your plan.”

The room is so silent we can hear the voices outside the room loudly.

“And to be frank, I don’t see a scenario thatyouwouldn’t double-cross me. I’d have no choice but to lock you all up, pump you with Mind Phantoms, and try my best to rearrange the rebellious part of your brains.”

I look at Aurick like a tornado coming my way. A dooming presence. Why did we think we could trust Demechnef at all? They won’t help us. He’s admitted to it.

“I have something that will change your mind. Would you like to know the name of the man that blew up your betrothed? The same man that is also a Vexamen spy lurking in our city?”

Aurick pops up. “One of your tricks?”

“I have irrefutable proof.” Dessin doesn’t blink. “But if I give it to you, you’ll write a treaty right now stating my terms of our surrender. We train on my conditions. Go by my rules. No methods of torture. No Mind Phantoms. I call the shots.”

“Kind of feels like we’re eavesdropping, don’t ya think?” Niles whispers in my ear. Before I can roll my eyes, Chekiss pinches the back of Niles’s arm.

After a moment to consider, Aurick nods. “Let’s see it.”

“Write the treatyfirst.”

It seems as though Aurick knows better than to argue with Dessin on this. We stand here for the next fifteen minutes while they negotiate the fine details of our stay with Demechnef.

“Get behind me.” Warrose is suddenly at my side, signaling for me and Ruth to move quickly. I give him a questioning look, glancing at his focus shifting to the corner of the room.

“Now, please,” Warrose whispers, a strand of long dark hair falls over his eye. I take a small step back, standing up on my tiptoes to peek over his shoulder to watch what happens.

Dessin signs the bottom of the parchment, then reaches in his pocket to reveal an envelope. Old and crinkled. I squint to get a better look.

Wait. Is that the envelope my father left behind for Kane?

Aurick rips it open, tossing the shredded paper to the side as he pulls out a photograph with what looks like a letter. His eyes widen, hands clamping into fists, and he stops breathing.

Warrose reaches back to me and Ruth, gripping our arms to keep us put.

The room shifts like there’s a stench in the air. Dessin remains perfectly still, watching Aurick, waiting for him to react. And it’s one quick glance up from those blue eyes. An avalanche of emotion.

“Masten,” Aurick snarls, swiping his hands across his desk, sending all of its contents skittering across the floor. His bottle of scotch shatters, cold liquid bursting over our shoes.

Masten. He’s the Vexamen spy. He killed Red.

“Find him!” he barks at three of his men.

Dessin steps out of the way as Aurick breaks free of his crisp composure, kicking over his desk, bellowing into the room at no one in particular.

Warrose chuckles. “You don’t want to subdue him?”

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