“Fine,” I bit back. “Who lives here with you?”
“No one,” he replied, staring me straight in the eye.
“Then whose flower is this?”
“No one’s.”
“Why are you growing it here?”
“It’s a project.”
“You have a whole garden.”
“I only grow tulips out there.”
“What kind of project?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Now, angel, you know I don’t give my secrets away for free. Are you willing to partake in an exchange? Something tells me you’re not being honest. Let’s call it intuition.” He chuckled at his own joke. “If you tell me what your gift is, I’ll tell you what I’m growing.”
I tried to keep my face calm but felt the vague twitch of my left eye as I stared up at Archer. “I don’t know what it is. They never told me,” I said as steadily as I could.
“Even if they didn’t, you’re a smart woman, you can figure it out.” Long fingers gripped my jaw. “What do the mortals beg you for, Quentin Scott? What are they praying for?”
“I don’t know,” I gritted out. “There are too many voices.”
Archer held my gaze for a moment. Time stretched between us and I worried that he was going to burrow into my brain and pull the truth out from me. However, he stepped back and straightened up, calmness washing over his features.
“No worries,” he said smoothly, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. The gesture was tender compared to the way he pinched my chin seconds ago. “We’ll figure it out together, but you should get some rest. It’ll be busy this week.”
“More training,” I said, stepping away from him.
“No. I’ve decided to host your gifting ball.”
Chaos and destruction were my tools. I’d mastered them and learned to wield them to do my bidding. People called on me when they were at their lowest point, with nowhere else to turn. When they were finally ready to give into their darkest desires. And I was happy to indulge them.
But for the first time in my existence, my powers did not bring the unparalleled rage that I was used to. Instead, it cocooned around me, caressing every nerve in a lethal manner, putting me in a strange state of calm.
There was too much at risk for me to head to lower Elysia and drag Quentin back home, no matter how strongly that need pulsed through me. If I gave in, there would be too many questions to answer that would only serve to further Hunter’s agenda.
Ego was my big brother’s driving force. Millenia of going up against him had taught me he wouldn’t listen if I used my limited charm to get to him. If I wanted success, I had to change the way I played the game.
With each passing day, I grew unbearable until Sloan asked me to stop visiting the house. Solace was better to stew in. To plot and to plan. Without Dionne or Bexley’s appearance at my door or whispers from the lower heavens, I resigned myself reluctantly to the fact that Quen was safe. Archer was cherishing the time she spent under his roof and in his care.
And then came the invitation, just like I knew it would. Hunter wanted a family dinner. All of us sitting around a table pretending we were a functional unit, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. That had always been the case, but the vote in the council had aired it for the rest of Elysia. Not exactly the united front he wanted to show. Cracks appearing in the carefully crafted image and crumbling before the audience he manipulated respect from.
“I don’t like it when you’re quiet,” Elva said, her delicate fingers digging into my forearm.
My invitation had come with the usual caveat. It was a wonder Erik still possessed his gift with the way Hunter believed himself to be a matchmaker.
“I’m always quiet,” I said, staring ahead as I walked.
True tunnel vision. There was no space for distractions when Quentin was the goal.
“Not like this. This is unnatural.”
The corner of my mouth tugged, but I bit back on any remark.
“She’s safe,” Elva continued, jogging to keep up with my steps.
