Page 12 of The Mirror of Beasts

“Are you willing to bet on that? Because I’m always up for a friendly wager,” said a voice from behind Acacia.

Every inch of my skin prickled with sudden awareness.

The shadowed figure stepped out from behind her into the floating lantern’s light.

“I wouldn’t stake your life on it, though,” Emrys said.

I hated that I wanted to look at him.

Hated that I noticed how his chestnut hair had been trimmed and tamed, that he was back to wearing perfectly tailored clothing with his usual disregard, sleeves rolled up to reveal the thick bands of scars across his skin. Hated the warm jacket he’d slung over one shoulder while the rest of us tried not to shiver in the damp cold. I hated that tilt of his head, that smirk, as if his wealth and name might protect him from these sorceresses, too.

But more than anything, I hated that the only mark the last days of Avalon had left on him was a hollowing of his cheeks, when the horror of those last hours had carved our pain down deep to the bone.

The betrayal stung anew, revived in an instant. Any soft relief I might have felt at seeing him alive dissolved, until only the humiliation and smoldering anger remained. He hadn’t just taken the Ring of Dispel, he’d …

What the hell was he even doing here?

“I don’t believe this for a moment,” Hestia declared, ripping the letter back out of the nameless one’s hands.

“Which part, that Madrigal has come slithering up out of her viper’s nest, or that the High Sorceress believed her?” Acacia muttered. Her brows rose suddenly, the bitterness there replaced by some new, no doubt horrible, revelation. “It says we’re to release them, but it does not specify that they have to be alive.”

Look at me, I thought, staring at the perfect lines of his profile. Look at what you did.

He wouldn’t. It began to feel like a challenge. I was baiting him, daring him to look. To see the venomous fury that was coursing through my veins and risk my gaze turning him to stone.

But then, that was one of the privileges of wealth, wasn’t it? Never needing to face the consequences of your actions.

“Actually,” Emrys said smoothly, leaning over Hestia’s shoulder to point at something on the paper, “it does riiiiight there—bottom of the third paragraph? Put in the request for that one myself.”

“Wow,” Neve deadpanned. “What a hero.”

I gritted my teeth, resentment billowing up inside me. I didn’t want his help. Didn’t need it. The mere fact that he thought we might welcome it … I’d rather have been torn apart by the sorceresses.

“And just there,” Emrys continued, pointing farther down, “you’ll notice the High Sorceress makes a special request for you to return to the Council for a new assignment. But look, she also sends some praise for a job well done, so bravo.”

Acacia looked as though she’d love to stamp him out like a roach beneath her bootheel, and I would have loved nothing better than to watch.

“Why would Madrigal vouch for them, after what they’ve done?” Plum Hair scowled. “She never sticks her neck out unless it’s in the hope someone will clasp a diamond necklace around it.”

“Working every angle, as always. Her standing has suffered since … well, you know,” Hestia said.

The others did know, apparently. My infernal curiosity perked up its ears, but no further details came.

“Can we be done, then?” Hestia continued. “Your vault is rather lacking in creature comforts, Acacia.”

“Though, truly, it has wonderfully evocative atmosphere,” Plum Hair said, gesturing to the bleak stone walls around us.

Acacia sniffed, allowing the compliment. “Then let us go before the Council agrees to waste yet more of our time.”

“A wise idea,” Emrys said pleasantly. “We never know how many days we’ll be given.”

Acacia turned on her heel with a noise of disgust, making for the vault’s entrance. The others scurried after her, exchanging pleased looks behind her back.

Emrys cleared his throat, and they stopped.

“What is it now, you pestilence?” Acacia demanded.

He gestured helpfully to the stone bars, and to our restraints.

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