Page 64 of Heir of Illusion

One of his blond eyebrows arches. “Care to elaborate?”

I take a deep breath, praying for the courage to be honest.

“It gets hot,” I whisper, gesturing to the object in question. “And it pulses against my neck.”

I tell him everything I can remember about both occurrences. My skin itches as I freely offer the information, but Darrow is the only person who might be able to explain what’s happening. As wrong as this feels, I know this is a chance I have to take. As I speak, Darrow paces across the rug, his extravagant robe trailing behind him.

“Is it possible Darby was still in the tunnels when you felt it the first time?” he asks once I finish.

I shake my head. “According to our timeline, he had already been gone for hours by that point.”

His nose scrunches. “Certainly makes one curious what else is being kept down there.”

“My thoughts exactly.” I swallow thickly.

“And you said the second time you approached the house, the collar didn’t react at all?”

“No.” I shake my head as I lean back. “And all we found there were some blood stains and a woman who was rambling about rats and falling stars.”

He comes to a halt immediately. His gaze connects with mine, his eyes flaring. “She mentioned falling stars? You’re sure?”

I nod as a frisson of apprehension curls around me. “Why?”

“Tell me everything she said,” he demands, his tone more serious than I’ve ever heard it.

I lean forward. “She said ‘he’ was coming for me. I asked if she meant Darby, but she wouldn’t respond.”

His face pales as his gaze falls to the floor. “It’s already starting.”

“What are you talking about?”

Feeling too anxious to stay seated, I rise to my feet. My fingers fidget with one of the rubies on my collar and I desperately wish I’d never come here. Anything that could terrify Darrow this much is something I want to stay far away from.

Theenchanterturns around, leaning both hands against the dark wooden dresser as he frowns at his own reflection. After a few moments, he sighs in disgust and closes his eyes, as if he can’t bear to look at himself. It’s a feeling I’m uncomfortably familiar with.

“How much do you know about the sword?” he asks softly.

“I know it was used to kill Claudius.”

His eyes snap open as he spins around. “Where did you learn that?”

I cross my arms. “Doesn’t matter.”

He scowls, but I raise my brows defiantly. I’ve been forthcoming enough for one day. The book is my secret, and I’m not sharing it.

“Never mind.” He waves me off. “Do you know why it’s often referred to as ‘the whisperer?’”

“I’d guess it has something to do with the voices Baylor warned me about.”

He nods. “Thealmanovais more than just a sword.”

“It’s merely an enchanted object,” I insist, despite my intuition telling me he’s right.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s much more than that. Thealmanovais a living, sentient being. It has its own will, its own desires.”

My mouth is suddenly dry as I try to swallow down my rising uneasiness. “If that’s true, then what does it want?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he mutters, not meeting my gaze. Cagey bastard.

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