Page 3 of Heir of Illusion

He releases a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They looked prettier on the display. Be a good pet and put them back where they belong.”

Rolling my eyes, I do as he asked. I’ve learned the hard way not to wear jewels crafted by Darrow. “The king is searching for a long-term binding method.”

His eyes narrow with interest. Some of the color he lost earlier returns, along with his confidence.

“Long-term is more complicated,” he says, casually leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “There are ways of creating a binding potion, but it would need to be ingested regularly to maintain its effectiveness. And it’s possible the recipient would build up a tolerance to it over time, meaning you’d need to keep increasing the dosage. It would work well for a few weeks, or even months, but I wouldn’t suggest using it for any longer.”

He keeps his posture relaxed, the very image of professional interest. But I can tell from the way his gaze watches me too closely, searching for any sign of disappointment over his words, that he’s waiting for me to give myself away.

I don’t.

“However,” he continues, a dangerous gleam entering his eyes, “if he’s searching for something that would last years, I’d suggest using an object.”

“What kind of object?” I ask as I rest my elbows on the display case between us.

“Oh, anything would do as long as it was something they could wear on their person at all times.” He shrugs, motioning to the gemstones in front of me. “Jewels work best. A ring or a bracelet.” His lips curve into a wicked smile. “Perhaps anecklace.”

It’s physically painful to stop myself from pulling at my collar, but by the grace of the Fates I somehow manage to stay still.

“Are you sure it’s the king who’s asking for this information?” He pushes away from the wall and prowls closer. “Or is that collar getting a bit too tight for you?”

My jaw clenches as I force myself to take a deep breath, feeling the air move unrestricted through my windpipe. There’s no reason for the collar to be triggered right now.

Darrow chuckles at my discomfort. “And here I thought you were ever the docile littlepet.”

I bare my teeth at him as my fingers itch to claw at my necklace, to rip it from my throat and be rid of its suffocating weight. Like most deadly things, it’s beautiful. Dozens of deceptively alluring rubies encased in an intricate silver setting. The largest oval-shaped ruby sits in the center, against my trachea, while a slightly smaller one trickles down to my collarbone.

It’s exquisite, yet it hangs around my neck like a noose.

I keep my hands at my sides, reminding myself that pulling at it wouldn’t do any good. According to the enchantment placed on the collar, only the king has the power to remove it. When he fastened it around my throat, I was only ten years old. He said it would protect me and make it so no one would ever be able to take me away from him. He promised as long as I was wearing it, he would always be able to find me. At the time, I didn’t see anything wrong with that. Actually, I found the idea comforting. But after fifteen years, I no longer find solace in being tied to a master I’ve outgrown.

When the king explained what the collar would do, there were several things he forgot to mention. One being that whenever I angered him, it would become tighter and tighter until I’m unable to breathe.

Until I suffocate.

I squeeze my fists, trying desperately not to lose my temper. “I’m aware you’re the one who supplied the king with my collar.”

“Possibly.” He shrugs, crossing his arms again. “His Majesty has come to me for many things over the years. You can’t expect me to recall every treasure.”

I give him a bland look.

“We both know you remember this one well,” I remind him. “Fifteen years ago, you opened your little apothecary in Highgrove. A curious place to do business, considering the circumstances of your birth.”

Highgrove isn’t the same as the rest of the city of Solmare. Money doesn’t buy you entrance, blood does. It’s controlled by the council, a group made up of members of the ruling families. Only those of noble birth are permitted to own property here. When a spot becomes available in the district, the entire council must approve the buyer.

Despite how hard he’s worked to erase his mortal half, it’s well known that Darrow is a half fae bastard. That’s why the high fae of the ruling class have never fully accepted him. Oh, they’re happy to use his services when they have the need, but no matter how fine his clothes or the number of secrets he uncovers, he will never truly be one of them.

They would never willingly welcome him into Highgrove.

He flashes me a sly grin, continuing his performance as a careless idiot. “What can I say? I made a compelling proposal to the council and they saw my value.”

I narrow my gaze as my frustration mounts. “Do you honestly expect me to believe the high fae on the council went against hundreds of years of tradition and prejudice to open Highgrove to a half fae bastard merely because they liked yourbusiness model?”

He shrugs. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not without help,” I insist. “This would have cost more than your secrets and backroom bargains. You would have needed royal intervention.”

He doesn’t answer, but we both realize it’s true. The only person who can control the council members is the king.

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