Page 62 of Heir of Illusion

He shakes his head as drops of water drip down his face. “Just some dried blood. If it belonged to Darby, he’s already moved on.”

I nod stiffly. “I guess it was a stupid idea.”

“Just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” Thorne offers.

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t be nice.”

“Why?” he asks, tilting his head.

I look away. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“My apologies.” He hardens his voice dramatically. “It was the worst idea I’ve ever heard, and you’re an idiot for suggesting it.”

My lips twitch.

“Better?” he asks, softer this time.

“Much.” My gaze drops to the rain splashing against the cobblestones. “What do we do now?”

“We should interview Darrow again,” Thorne announces.

My brows lift. “Oh, is that what you called it the first time? An interview?”

He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was an exchange of information.”

“More like a hostile extraction.”

He rolls his eyes. “Either way, Darby was the guard who sold him information about the whisperer. They knew each other. If Darby needed help, it’s possible he went to Darrow.”

It’s not a bad idea.

“Alright. You go reinterview Darrow at his shop, and I’ll check with a few local healers around here.”

His expression darkens. “You want to split up?”

I shrug. “We have a lot of ground to cover. We’ll get through it all faster this way.”

He scrutinizes my face for a few moments before relenting. “Fine. I’ll check in with you tomorrow for a progress report.”

I nod, turning to leave.

“Why did you try to help her?” Thorne calls after me.

I’m not sure if he means Mrs. Darby or the old woman, but either way, the answer is the same.

“Because I’m not heartless,” I parrot his earlier words.

Leaving it at that, I make my way down the rain soaked streets. When I reach the end of the road, I turn around and find Thorne gone. Tilting my head back, I check the sky above me, exhaling with relief when I don’t spot any wings.

Pulling up my hood, I continue on my way, checking again every few minutes. After several blocks, when I still don’t sense him nearby, I wrap myself in an illusion and turn north, heading toward my true destination.

Chapter

Seventeen

Darrow sleeps peacefully in his guestroom at MASQ.

The furnishings here are as decadent as the rest of the establishment. Rich green paint stains the walls, contrasting nicely with the small gold chandelier. Darrow is tucked into a four-poster canopy bed, lying on his back with his hands resting over his middle. I’ve never been in the upstairs apartment in Darrow’s shop, but I imagine its similar to this.

---