Page 36 of The Sinner's Bargain

Oliver and Vance squabbled the way they’d done for years. Useless things that never got resolved, but they kept on about it at every opportune moment. Cyrus stayed at his post by the door, a perfect statue, but I knew he would have his gun out and fired before a person could blink. It was so normal. Or, would have been if the proverbial pink elephant wasn’t in the room.

“Could you take our guest to her room? We’ve got some matters to discuss,” I said to Cyrus when breakfast ended and two of the kitchen staff had cleared away the dishes.

Cyrus inclined his head and started forward to help her out of her seat, but I was already up, hand curled into the back of her chair. Her gaze was fleeting, scared leaping from me and away with a flick when she murmured her thanks.

I said nothing. Not even when she followed Cyrus from the room.

“I don’t trust her,” Vance voiced the moment they were out of earshot. “With everything happening right now, her appearance is highly suspect.”

“She was running for her life. Coincidences happen,” Oliver protested. “She seems much too sweet to be a ... a spy. The very idea is ludicrous.”

“Not when we’re in the middle of a war. It’s perfect timing.” Vance turned away from the man seated across from him to fix his dark eyes on me. “I think we should treat her like a spy.”

“What does that even mean?” my uncle exclaimed. “You want to torture her?”

Thin lips pursed even as Vance lifted his chin defiantly. “I think we should let Cyrus do what Cyrus does best and get answers that way. If she’s innocent, she has nothing to worry about. We’ll return her bag, put her in a cab and send her on her way. If she’s not innocent, well...”

“No. Absolutely not. That is barbaric and I will not—”

“Enough.” I pressed two fingers into the growing pulse between my eyes. “We are not torturing her. We’re not hurting her.” I opened my eyes and pinned my adviser with all the brewing anger rising up inside me just from his remarks. “No one is touching her.”

Vance drew in a breath as if he too were struggling with his temper. “Then what is your solution, Thoran? I understand she is a beautiful girl and distracting when she’s wearing so little, but would you feel the same if she didn’t look the way she does?”

I ignored the finely sharpened question.

“No one touches her,” I repeated, shredding each word like a warning through my teeth.

Vance sighed and sat back. “If you wish to remain blind to the matter, I will not be held responsible for the outcome. I can feel there is something wrong with her and you know my feelings are always correct. She is running from something we do not want at our doorstep, or maybe she is the victim here and someone is forcing her, but whatever the case may be, you cannot allow your perception to be swayed by a pretty face.”

“It’s not about her pretty face,” I said. I lied. “She saw the roses. How long before she tells someone if we let her go, or the person who sent her? It’s already hard enough keeping thieves, treasure hunters, and idiots from breaking in over a simple rumor. Imagine the chaos if it becomes fact.”

The two men exchange glances.

“Well,” Vance dragged out the word over neatly folded fingers, “there is a reason the rumors are simply rumors. Perhaps there really is a simple way of handling it.”

“I won’t kill her.”

The other man sucked in a breath. His nostrils flared. “Then I hope you know what you’re doing because you are making all our jobs harder.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

NAYA

Lacroix.

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