Page 48 of The Demon's Discovery
Greta spentmost of the day with Grace and the four sisters that lived at the manor, familiarizing herself with the ins and outs of the campus beyond the classroom.
While she often downplayed her role, Grace managed all the inner workings of d’Arcan. Without her, we’d have no clean linen, nothing to eat, and the whole of the campus would be mired in dust and grime. To have been accepted into her most sacred workspace, the kitchen, was a sign Greta had been wholly accepted by Grace. Not that there had been any doubt their friendship would blossom quickly but seeing it in such obvious motion was lovely.
Greta being preoccupied for the day left me plenty of time to work myself up, calm myself back down, and come to some kind of internal peace with what I wanted to say to her all while touching on a few new leads for the actual necklace Henrik hired me to track down and the mysterious man I’d seen at the markets.
While the counterfeit necklace had passed with flying colors with the Belettes, the real one was obviously important, and I wanted to know why. There had to be a reason they needed it badly enough to hire me, and the fact that it matched Calla’s heirloom seemed uncanny. Unfortunately, none of the jewelers, pawnbrokers, brothel madams, or seamstresses had seen it nor anything like it.
All through dinner, Greta shifted her shoulder restlessly, clearly fighting off an ache. Though she did not feel herdiscomfort should be announced, it gave me one final valid reason to get the conversation done with.
“Thank you for today,” Grace said, beaming as she collected our dishes.
“I should be thanking you,” Greta said, rising to help.
“No, no. You go on. I’ve got a helper.” She winked, handing the stack of plates to Magnus.
I raised my eyebrow as the two of them loped off to the kitchen. “Care to join me for some wine?” I asked, unreasonably nervous.
“Sure.” She forced a weak smile.
I followed her out of the dining room and up the stairs, my fingertips lingering at the small of her back. The burn in my chest had settled substantially since I’d come to terms with the label it deserved. However, seeing her in discomfort brought it roaring back to life.
“Is it bad?” I asked, once she was comfortable on my sofa with a glass of my favorite white wine in hand.
“I think perhaps I overused it today. Grace and I folded what must have been a month’s worth of linens. It was good for me though.”
“I…” My nerve faltered, but I pulled the threads of my bravery together as I sat on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of her. Her eyes widened and she swallowed her mouthful of wine in one hard gulp. “I have something I need to discuss with you, Greta.”
“I’m sorry. I know you asked me to tell you when it was bothering me, but I’m so used to it being a dull ache I didn’t—” Her voice held an edge of fear, and I regretted being the cause.
I took her wine and set it on the table next to me, then held both of her hands loosely in mine. “No, no. I’m not upset with you about that, though I do want you to tell me when it’s bothering you. What I was going to say is it’s possible for me tolearn what happened to make it hurt in the first place. There’s a way.”
“There is?” Hope flared bright in her eyes, her fingertips squeezing mine.
“Yes. My ability to see the past takes several forms. I can use my divination equipment, or I can… see it. In memories.”
Lurching forward, she asked, “Can we do that?”
I nodded, bracing myself for the hard part. “We can, Dragonfly. But I haven’t told you what that requires yet.”
“I don’t care,” she said, voice low but firm. “I want to know. I want to fix it.”
I tightened my fingers around hers, bringing one of her hands up to my face so I could kiss her warm palm. My heart thudded behind my ribs, nerves battling with affection. “I’d love nothing more than to make it as though it never happened,” I admitted. “But there are things I cannot take back if we try this. I need you to understand exactly what’s going to happen.”
“Okay.” Her voice went breathy as she studied my face, the sound sending a thrill through my veins.
“If we do this, we will be bound, Greta. I will be able to find you, no matter where you go, at least for a time.” The idea sent a surge of lust straight through me, the ache in my chest blazing to life. “I need to be clear though: there’s no way to predict which memories I will see, how far they’ll go back, or how vividly they’ll come through. I may not see what we’re looking for.”
“If there’s a chance you’ll be able to tell me what happened and how to fix it, I want you to. I don’t care about any of the other stuff. I trust you. I understand the risks.”
“I don’t know that you do, Dragonfly.” My hands trembled, blood rushing hot through my body. “And I haven’t even told you what I must do yet.” I let go of her hand and allowed my fingers to trace along her jaw.
I tried to remember myself as the haze of desire took me over, so I focused on Greta’s face to keep myself grounded. She was fearless, and her trust in me would be our undoing.
“I don’t care, Vassago. Truly, I don’t. You wouldn’t hurt me.” She gave me a gentle smile, a breath of the lust I felt echoed in her words. She frowned. “Tell me how it works. Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”
Chapter 21
Greta
