Page 111 of The Mirror of Beasts

“—of course, that can be easily arranged.”

His skin prickled, a growl curling in his chest. Endymion.

He hadn’t noticed that the rider wasn’t with the others, but he should have known. Endymion desired power above all; it was inevitable that he’d weasel his way in closer to Lord Death to position himself as the most faithful deputy.

He might have been the lead rider, but he was not their master’s seneschal.

“How fare the searches?” Lord Death asked, his voice rumbling.

“I’ve set several of the men on Excalibur’s trail, but I believe it is not in this world and may be no concern to you,” Endymion said.

“Then you are an even bigger fool than I thought,” Lord Death replied.

“My apologies, I should not have assumed to know your mind,” Endymion groveled.

“The Lady of the Lake’s sword is no mere weapon,” Lord Death warned. “Not even demons escape its touch. Until it is in my hand, and I decide whether to wield it or eliminate its threat, remember that.”

The Lady of the Lake. Yes. His master had mentioned such a blade to him.

“Of course,” Endymion said.

“It’s just as well I’ve another set of eyes searching for it,” Lord Death said.

“My lord?” Endymion said, startled. The seneschal felt his own breath catch at that unexpected information. “May I ask who?”

“You may not,” the king said. “But if I were you, I’d fear them finding it first.”

“I will find it first, then,” Endymion said quickly.

The seneschal’s top lip curled into a sneer. Why hadn’t he been tasked with this?

“And the other search?” Lord Death prompted. There was the sound of clinking glassware, and the smell of Scotch bloomed in the air. “For the soul I tasked you to find?”

Yes, the seneschal thought. The soul. The woman who had been taken so cruelly from his master.

“It continues,” Endymion said. “I believe the next sorceress rat we catch in our net will have more information on its whereabouts. I’ll keep her alive long enough to pry the information from her.”

“Good,” Lord Death murmured. “Good. Then you’re dismissed.”

The large gem he wore at the base of his throat pulsed with the light of the souls swirling inside. All those who hadn’t been made into riders were imprisoned inside the dark stone—but, somehow, the little girl’s soul had escaped.

Instead of alerting his master to it as he’d intended, the seneschal backed away from the door swiftly, crossing the foyer to the stairs. If she was a hallucination, it would only make his master despise him more.

“Secrets, secrets …,” the little girl whispered behind him.

The taunt curled around him as he made his way up the stairs. The little girl trailed behind him, skipping up the steps as she sang.

“As the bud blooms to flower, as the moon passes to mark the hour …”

“Stop,” he begged.

She didn’t.

“As Lord Death rides upon his cold power, so the Goddess built the tower …”

But when he turned, there was only his own bleak face staring back at him in the mirror on the landing.

“Well, well, well!” one of the hunters cried from below. “Look who’s finally turned up—”

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