Page 72 of Spark of the Everflame

“A blessing from the Old Gods, that’s what it is.” He shrugged. “When they present an opportunity like this, we have to take it.”

I frowned at him, but his gaze was fixed on a palatial estate that began at a bend in the road and ended somewhere far, far,faraway.

“Evrim Benette is the head of House Benette, one of the Twenty Houses that control the realm,” he explained. “He has a hand in most of the weapons in Emarion. If we could intercept one of his shipments and put some of them in mortal hands instead of Descended, it would go a long way in leveling the odds.”

He turned to look at me, cupping my chin and pulling me close. “You could save a lot of lives today.”

I nodded. “I can do it. Iwilldo it.”

“Good.” He gave me a quick kiss before releasing me. “Now go on. I’ll follow in a few minutes and wait nearby. Remember—just get in and get out safely. Don’t pick any fights.”

“When have I ever picked a fight?” I asked, barely able to get the words out before Henri shot me an unamused glare.

“I mean it, D. This isn’t like the trouble we used to get into in Mortal City. The Descended kill people like us every day, and they think nothing of it. If you want to take them on, you have to learn to blend in, not stand out.”

Something about his words sat wrong in my heart, the plunk of a distant piano hitting a sour note. Thevoiceinside me seemed to shudder with equal distaste.

I flexed my leg, feeling the outline of Brecke’s knife press into my calf—the only weapon I’d bothered to bring with me. I’d never admit it to Henri, but if things went wrong, this knife and I were on our own. I would die before I’d take him down with me.

I rolled my shoulders back and turned my gaze to House Benette. “Time to be a spy.”

* * *

“Who the hell are you?”

There was something very humbling about being sneered at by a child wearing silk.

The boy in the doorway glared at me from beneath a splash of white-gold curls, his cobalt eyes taking in my scruffy apparel with blatant contempt. He looked to be barely a teenager, but he carried himself with the unearned cockiness of a far older man.

“I believe someone in your family called for a healer,” I said.

“And they sentyou?”

“I can leave, if you’d rather heal the patient yourself.”

He said nothing, only looking me over with the same snobbish air.

I shrugged and turned away. “Suit yourself.”

“Wait.” He pulled the door open wider. “If you’re all they’ve got, then come in, I suppose.”

I followed him into the front parlor, trying not to gape at the endless floor-to-ceiling ivory marble. Unlike the palace’s bright colors and showy details, this home reflected a more muted elegance. Every surface was glossy and polished to pristine gleam in a sterile palette of whites and creams that only the very wealthiest could afford to keep clean. Standing in the midst of it, I looked like a glob of mud splashed on a wedding gown.

“Stay,” the boy ordered as he turned for a nearby hallway.

I gritted my teeth at being commanded like a stray dog. My guilt over betraying this family was evaporating quickly.

The moment he was out of sight, I quietly followed his path. A long corridor, column-lined and soaked with sunlight streaming from the arched glass roof, revealed a row of open doors. Most of the rooms appeared to be for entertaining guests, some with mile-long dining tables carved of milky quartz and others with regal busts perched on alabaster pedestals.

Eventually the hallway forked in opposite directions. To my left, the clink of pots and pans mixed with the wafting aroma of smoky meat and fragrant spices. I turned instead to the right and crept deeper into the interior, where rumbling voices floated from a room ahead.

“The last three shipments have been missing half of what we ordered. If Sophos can’t hurry up their research, we’ll have no choice but—”

“Father?”

“Not now, Lorris. What was I saying? Right—we’ll be forced to turn to Umbros to fulfill our needs. I have no desire to work with that whore Queen and her little army of sex slaves, but you tell Doriel that I will if I ha—”

“Um, Father—”

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