Page 24 of Heir of Illusion

Taking off his right glove, he holds out his arm to show me a tattoo on his wrist. A single red rose engulfed in flames.

Death’s sigil.

A triumphant gleam enters his eyes. “This tends to gain me entry to any court I wish.”

Only those in the God of Death’s most trusted circle bear the mark. Reaching for his hand, I try to get a closer glimpse at the intricate symbol, but he pulls away. I scowl at him as he puts his glove back on.

“I can’t wait to see what the king does when he learns his trustedwraithis the infamous Angel of Mercy.” He smiles wickedly.

The truth of his accusation is a gut punch. I know exactly what Baylor would do if he found out I was betraying him. Pushing those thoughts away, I search for something to turn the tide of this conversation.

“You’re searching for the whisperer,” I announce, wanting to shock him.

The smile slides off his face at the mention of the item he and Darrow were discussing.

“What do you know of it?” he demands.

Nothing, but I’m not telling him that. We stand in silence for several minutes before he releases a sigh, likely realizing I have no intention of answering him. His head cocks to the side as he observes me, the silence stretching on until he finally breaks it.

“I could use someone with your peculiar talents.”

“Don’t pretend you know anything about my talents, Reaper.”

“I’d be interested in finding out.” His eyes glimmer with challenge. “You appear to have a knack for remaining unseen.”

“Is that what you’re after?” I ask, putting the pieces together. “You want my help finding your weapon?”

He waves me off. “Weapon is such an ugly word.”

“Then what would you call it?”

He rolls his lips, thinking for a moment before answering. “A unique object.”

I laugh without humor. “I’ve had bad luck with men who abuse such objects.”

He cocks his head, questions forming in his gaze as he studies me. “What if I swore to you that’s not my intention?”

Discomfort blooms under his inspection, causing me to shift my weight back and forth. “In my experience, people only seek such objects for two reasons. To avenge an injustice. Or to commit one.”

He takes a careful step closer. “And if I claimed the former?”

I lift my chin. “I’d remind you that no one is as honorable as they pretend to be.”

“Including you?” he asks, his voice softer now as he snares my gaze with his own.

“Especially me,” I admit.

His pupils dilate, the darkness nearly covering his blue irises completely. “What motivates you, then?”

“Guilt.”

The word tumbles out before I can stop it. A far too honest answer to offer someone I don’t trust.

I shake my head, retreating backwards. “It doesn’t matter what you want with the object. I won’t help you.”

Disappointment flickers across his handsome features, and when he speaks again he sounds resigned. “Then I’ll tell the king what you’re up to.”

“Do that and you ruin any chance of ever using my ‘peculiar talents’ to your advantage,” I remind him.

---