Page 63 of Heir of Illusion

The lock on his door was surprisingly easy to pick. I expected more of a challenge from anenchanter. Perhaps a trap or some sort of alarm? But the entire process was disturbingly easy.

The silver gleam of my dagger flickers through the dark room as I rest the cool metal against his throat. The steady rhythm of his breathing changes slightly.

“What a strange dream I’m having,” he murmurs.

“I’d prefer to be described as a nightmare.”

His eyes blink open, connecting with mine instantly. “I’m honored to be threatened by you for a second time in as many weeks, but couldn’t it have waited for a more reasonable hour?”

“Blame yourself.” I shrug. “If you don’t want people to break into your room, perhaps you should make it more difficult to pick the lock. I could have been a murderer.”

He gives me a flat look. “If you meant me harm, you would have been electrocuted as you passed over the threshold. Never underestimate anenchanter, my dearwraith.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I have the sudden urge to dig the blade deeper into his skin. “But since you’re perfectly fine, it would appear that this pet is all bark and no bite.”

“Don’t,” I warn him as I slowly drag the blade across his neck, my pressure not quite hard enough to draw blood. “I didn’t come here with violent intentions, but a girl can always change her mind.”

His throat bobs as he takes in my sinister smile. Stepping back, I return the dagger to its sheath and make my way to the other side of the room.

“Noted.” He grabs the robe from the end of his bed and wraps it around himself before sliding off the mattress. “So, why did you seek me out?”

“I require information,” I say as I walk over to the armoire. Opening the top cabinet, I find it stuffed full of various suede jackets and satin shirts. What a curious amount of clothes to pack for what’s supposed to be a short stay.

Rolling his eyes, he knocks my hands out of the way before shutting the cabinet. “I should start charging you.”

“You owe me.” I keep my tone light, but we both know there’s truth under my words. “What do you know about thealmanova?”

“The what?” he asks in an even tone as he slips his feet into silk slippers.

“Oh, my apologies. Would you prefer I call it the whisperer?”

His eyes widen slightly. “It appears you’ve been quite busy, Lady Iverson.”

“I trust you’ve heard about Grell Darby?” I ask, helping myself to the cushy chair in the corner.

He nods, pursing his lips. “Have there been any updates?”

“He paid a visit to his wife after stealing the sword,” I tell him. “She claimed he had a nasty injury on his leg.” I lean back, watching his reactions closely. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No.” His expression betrays nothing.

I narrow my eyes. “He didn’t come to you seeking aid?”

“If he did, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been at the shop since the last time I saw you,” he reminds me.

“Mhmm.” I cock my head. “That wouldn’t that have anything to do with a certain dark-haired gentleman, would it?”

“I simply wanted to take a few days off.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Do I need to explain my comings and goings to you?”

“I’d rather you explain how thealmanovais connected to my collar.”

He stiffens. “It’s not.”

“You have a bad habit of lying to me. Perhaps we should break you of it.” I pull out a folded piece of paper from my coin purse and hold it up to Darrow. He glances impassively at the illustration of the sword. “Those stones look familiar, don’t they?”

“One ruby is much like another.” He shrugs. “What makes you think they’re connected?”

I bite my lip, unsure how much I want to reveal. He’s being cagey, and I’d rather not give up more than is completely necessary. Still, I need answers.

“There’s something going on with my collar,” I admit finally, twisting uncomfortably in my seat. “It’s been… behaving oddly.”

---