Page 44 of Empire of Dark

She turned on the phone, lifting the screen to me. “Want to go shopping?”

Oh, I did love this girl.

I laughed, scooting closer to her on the bench to look over her shoulder at her phone. “Have I told you you’re my favorite person at this castle?”

She froze, her head turning to look at me. “I’ve never been anybody’s favorite.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re very likable.”

“Father tried to kill me once.”

My body stilled, not sure I’d just heard her correctly. “He what?”

“Tried to kill me once. Your friend that brought you here—I don’t know what his name is—but I recognized him. He and his friends saved me that time father tried to kill me.” Her head dropped, almost ashamed she’d just said the words and she concentrated on her phone. “Shoes or clothes first?”

I forced a smile and patted her back. “You know what, we absolutely need to have a marathon shopping spree, but can it wait just an hour or so? I just remembered I had to check in with your father this afternoon.”

She nodded noncommittally.

“In the library in an hour, okay? Assuming I can find my way out of the labyrinth and he doesn’t need me for too long. But in the meantime, I would love it if you could find me some cute shoes to train in.”

She nodded again, not looking up, already absorbed in her phone, her finger flicking through pictures. “Two left turns, wait for the third turn on the right, take that, another right turn, three lefts and the second right and you’re out.”

I nodded, standing. “Thanks. See you in an hour.”

I didn’t expel my breath until I’d disappeared into the evergreen hedges.

Then I had to stop, my hands curling into fists, a tornado of fury swirling inside of me that was quickly spinning out of control.

Damen tried tokillher?

His own daughter?

I was going to murder that bastard.

Chapter Eleven

{ ADA }

I found the asshole in the top of the south tower, and that was only after pinning Rupert against a stone wall and setting my blade to his neck, demanding to know where Damen was.

Extreme, but Damen’s butler was always tight-lipped with judgmental eyes on me. It had actually felt good to make him suffer for the one second I had him pinned.

I took the steps of the circular stone staircase up the tower three at a time—three because they were awkward short steps, built during a time when people presumably couldn’t lift their legs more than an inch.

Bursting through the door at the top of the staircase, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

An art studio of sorts.

Oil paints and supplies scattered about on every horizontal surface, on tables big and small, on the window ledges, on the mantel above the fireplace. And canvases littering the room. So many they were stacked against the walls, some up on easels, some propped against the legs of the easels and tables. Dark colors.

All of them somber, deep reds and blues swirled in darkness, but in some twisted way, light as well. Paintings of sunsetsafter the pretty purples and blues and oranges and pinks had receded to the darkness. Black-colored dogs, emerging out of the night with tongues wagging. Children dressed in black in the nighttime reaching for fireflies.

All of the paintings in progress—none finished.

Everything had a layer of dust on it.

This art studio had been abandoned before the artist had finished putting what was in her imagination to canvas.

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