Page 72 of Heir of Illusion

Thorne stands where I left him, watching me with an emotion I don’t recognize.

“How did you get past the guards?” I demand.

His eyebrows shoot up as he makes a show of glancing around the room. “Oh, did you have security? Funny. I must have missed them.”

I head for the door, planning to check on them, but Thorne moves faster than I’ve ever seen, appearing in front of me.

“They’re fine.” He rolls his eyes. “The one outside the barracks fell asleep on the job and I saw no reason to wake him.”

My gaze flicks toward the window, and I’m shocked to find the sun rising outside. Orange rays pierce through the glass pane, stretching across the floor to create a chasm of light between us.

“Do you enjoy rising with the dawn?” I ask, wondering what could bring him here this early.

“I could ask you the same question,” he points out as he saunters over to inspect the damaged punching bag.

“And I would evade answering, just like you.” I trail after him, uncomfortable at the idea of him moving through my space so freely. “What are you doing here, Thorne?”

He shifts back and forth on his feet as his gloved hands slide into his pockets. Taking a deep breath, he meets my gaze straight on.

“I wanted to apologize,” the reaper admits. “I was out of line the other day. I’m sorry.”

Surprise nearly knocks me on my ass. I’m not sure anyone has ever truly apologized to me before. It’s a novel experience.

“There’s a lot of pressure to find the whisperer,” he continues, his discomfort obvious. “I let it get the best of me and that wasn’t fair to you.”

I get the sense Thorne doesn’t hand out many apologies. The fact that he’s offering one to me is strangely flattering. It doesn’t entirely make up for the fact that he’s still keeping secrets, but the acknowledgment of his mistake means something.

I shrug my shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant about the situation. “I suppose Death must be a bit of a hard-ass.”

His lips twitch. “That’s certainly one way of describing Killian.”

“Baylor’s the same.”

Silvery blue eyes flash to mine. “They’re nothing alike.”

The skin around his mouth is pulled tight, and there’s tension in his body that he’s trying very hard to hide. My comparison actually offended him.

“You don’t like him, do you?” I ask.

Thorne doesn’t look at me as he answers, nor does he pretend to question who I’m referring to. “He’s careless with the things that belong to him. That’s not a good quality in a leader.”

I don’t miss his implication thatIam one of those things. I want to correct him, to tell him I don’t belong to the king, but we both know it would be a lie. We stand in silence for a few moments, both of us considering each other’s words.

“It’s incredible,” he whispers, his voice full of awe.

I glance up to find him watching myeidolonwith rapt fascination as he moves closer to her. She stares blankly ahead, not acknowledging him.

“She truly is an exact replica of you,” he marvels.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, considering how disappointing you found her before.” I want to bite my tongue as soon as the words slip out.

He cuts me an amused glare. “Did that comment sting, my lady?”

I shrug, ignoring his implication. I don’t care what he thinks.

“If she’s such a perfect replica, then how did you know it was me you were tackling?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Hmm?” He blinks innocently.

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