Page 62 of Ruling Destiny

But is that because you had an audience? What if it had been just us?

“And even now,” she continues, “I could’ve easily sat back and watched you climb inside. Not that you would’ve gone anywhere, seeing as how the conditions weren’t right, but not only did I stop you, but I rushed out of that construct because I could tell you were up to no good. And now that I’ve told you, my conscience is clear. So tell me, Nat, are we good? Have I managed to redeem some small part of myself?”

I want to believe her. Mainly because being able to trust Elodie would make my life here at Gray Wolf a helluva lot easier. So I take a deep breath and say, “Thank you. For saving me yesterday.”

She nods, brings her chair to a stop, and collects her wig from the floor, flopping it over her arm in a way that makes it look like she’s cradling some sort of strange, faceless dog.

“You might want to take a closer look at whoever sent you out there.” She runs a hand down the bodice of her dress as she stands. “Because clearly, they can’t be trusted.”

As she’s making her way up the stairs, I call out to her. “You mentioned something about it needing to be just the right conditions.”

Gripping the banister, she turns to face me.

“What did you mean?” I try to get a good read on her, but the way the chandelier reflects off her features makes it nearly impossible to catch her expression.

So, all I can do is take her at her word when she says, “It follows the cycles of the moon.”

I nod, sensing there’s more.

“And the conditions for disappearing are right when the moon is in its waxing phase.”

I blink. Swallow. Incapable of moving, speaking, doing much of anything other than open-mouthed staring.

“The waxing phase,” she repeats. “Just like it was yesterday.”

35

By the time I make it back to my room, I’m so distracted by what Elodie said, it’s a moment before I notice there’s a freaking Leonardo da Vinci painting casually propped in the corner.

Or at least I assume it’s theSalvator Mundi, because it’s not like I check.

Because right now, it’s just one bigwhatever.

Right now, all I can think about is how Freya might’ve directed me toThe Magicianduring the waxing phase on purpose—that she might’ve actually set out tomake me disappear. And the worst part is, she has access to my room during the times I’m not here.

I flip the switch next to the hearth and warm my hands before the fire, trying to think of the best way to handle her, when there’s a knock at my door.

My first instinct is to ignore it. If it’s Freya, I can’t risk speaking to her until I’ve sorted it out. But then the knock sounds again, followed by: “I know you’re in there.” And I immediately recognized the voice as Mason’s.

“Do you want to sit?” I usher him through the door and gesture nervously toward the velvet settee. It’s the first time he’s been in my room—the first time we’ve spoken since yesterday’s Trip—and I’m not entirely sure where I stand with him.

Mason ignores the offer and wanders the space. Pausing before the Salvador Dalí, he says, “The Persistence of Memory?” He shoots a squinty look over his shoulder, his eyes slowly taking me in. “Do I want to know what you stole to get your hands on that?”

“Probably not.” I sink onto a chair and watch as he continues his inspection.

After taking a moment to studyVanitas, he heads back toward me. “I’m sensing a theme,” he says. “Time, memories, vanities…” He nods toward the easel. “And that one?”

I shake my head. “It’s not mine.” Then, desperate to change the subject, I say, “I hear you did good today.”

“You heard or you saw?” Mason cocks a brow.

“Both,” I admit, my belly clenching when he wanders over to the easel, lifts the cloth, and flings it aside.

Other than the crackling of flames in the hearth, the room is quiet enough that I can hear his quick intake of breath when he takes in the sight of the da Vinci masterpiece.

“It’s real,” I tell him before he can ask. But by now, he’s probably already guessed that.

“So—” He turns away from the painting and settles onto the velvet settee. “Is there a reason you didn’t at least try to warn me?”

---