Page 85 of The Art of Exiley

24

This is a crazy idea. And maybe a mistake.

The door swings open the moment I knock.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe asks coldly.

“I think we may be able to help each other.”

“That’s unlikely,” he says, deadpan. But he opens the door wider and lets me in.

What am I doing? Should I really tell him? He’s the last person in this place I can trust, but also, he’s not afraid to break the rules. I’m gambling on his drive to help Hypatia being strong enough that it will outweigh the rage he’s about to feel toward me.

“I have connections who may be able to help us get to Hypatia.”

He moves so quickly I don’t even have time to blink before I’m pinned against the wall, his hand pressed over my heart.

“Connections? To the Inquisitors? That does not sound good, Weed.”

My heartbeat thunders under his hand. I can feel how strong he is, and I haven’t forgotten what he said last night, about how a Sire can end someone’s life with Ha’i to the heart. Rafe’s a mercurial one all right, saving my life one moment, threatening it the next.

I’m also very aware of his closeness to me and his hand pressing into my breast.

“Get off me, creep. I’m offering to help you.” I try to shove his arm away, but he’s strong, and it doesn’t budge. The realization of my own weakness only makes my heart beat faster.

Maybe he will hurt me.

I try to push him away again, and the vulnerability of feeling so trapped causes my panic to rise. “Let me explain.”

He releases his hand, and I manage to swallow my instinct to sob. I glare at him. “What’s your problem?” I try to yell it, but it comes out as more of a squeak.

He looms over me. “What connections do you have to the enemy of my people, the abductors of my cousin?” The steel accusation in his eyes sends terror shooting through my limbs. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that my not reporting the scoundrels from last night is a sign of softness. They are useful to me, and they are my kin. You may be a Maker and a Sire, but you’re still a weed. The Inquisitors, and anyone connected to them, are the enemy. If you are in league with them, I will hand you over to the Guard without hesitation.” His voice lowers menacingly. “Or I’ll just take care of you myself.”

Though he is no longer touching me, the air is thick with his threat. I’d been fooled by sleeping in his arms and in his bed. Rafe is clearly not my friend, and telling him anything may have been a lethal mistake. Unless I can convince him that I’m not a traitor and that I really can help Hypatia. Though I don’t know if that’s true. On either count.

I take a deep breath. “If you give me the chance, I’ll explain everything.”

Well, some version of everything.

“Fine,” he replies, straddling a chair. He folds his arms over the chair back and stares at me, unblinking. “Talk.”

I sit on the edge of his couch and tell him one of my in-case-of-emergency-break-glass prepared explanations—that I was sent here without any understanding of my family’s affiliations and that I’m starting to realize my trip to Italy was orchestrated as a setup all along, and that I’m only realizing now that I’ve seen the picture in Michael’s office that I have been being used as a pawn, but that I have not known about any of it until now.

Even to my own ears, the story feels as flimsy as single-ply toilet paper, but I put my all into selling it, and Rafe must buy at least some of it because he doesn’t immediately start threatening to kill me again.

“So, what you’re saying,” Rafe responds, in an as yet nonhomicidal tone, “is that you can direct me to the people who sent you here so that I can find where they’re keeping Hypatia and rescue her?”

“Yes… but I need you to take me off the island with you.”

“No chance.”

“I need to learn how my family is actually connected to all of this.”

He sneers. “You expect me to help you after what you’ve just admitted?”

“Do you have any other leads? I can’t ensure that I can get you to Hypatia if I’m not with you.”

“You can simply tell me where she is, and I’ll do fine on my own.”

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