“The Ardeo was disbanded. Glory’s Temple hasn’t had a military since the seventeen hundreds,” he argued, infuriatingly dismissive.
“Publicly.Publiclythey haven’t had a military since the Collapse, but they do. It’s not something most acolytes know, but we all feel it. Max told me— Heknewit was real. They have eyes and ears everywhere. That’s why the entire cathedral is bugged. That’s why any one of my staff might report my suspicious behavior at any moment. Even if they can’t put a name to it, we allknow.”
When he didn’t appear convinced, perhaps thinking herdramaticagain, Petra’s desperation clawed up and out at last.Her voice was raw when she continued, “Max knew something about them. He said that there was something happening within the High Gloriae, that there’d been some shift after Antonin was appointed Protector. He said he was worried something really awful was brewing and then… And then a month later I got his ashes in the mail.”
She had to suck in a breath to stop her voice from breaking.Remember who you’re talking to.
“I don’t expect you to care about any of that,” she croaked, “but if you want the context, the truth, that’s it. Antonin doesn’t have a fixed headquarters. He travels from temple to temple, and that means he has to bring his shit with him wherever he goes — including whatever files he keeps.Yourjob is to find the proof that he ordered Max’s murder and deliver it to Elise Sasini atThe San Francisco Light.”
Silas was dreadfully quiet for several beats. His expression was inscrutable. She had no idea if he believed her, let alone took her claims with even an ounce of the seriousness they deserved.
Just when she couldn’t take the silence any longer, Silas eased his fingers out of her hair to slowly drag his palm down the column of her throat. Speaking in a soft voice, he asked, “Why did he put a camera in your room, baby?”
Petra shook her head. “I… I miscalculated. I knew I needed to take Max’s place if I ever wanted a chance to figure out the truth, but I didn’t anticipate I’d draw Antonin’s attention as much as I did. He’s had his eyes on me from the moment the sovereign put my name in as his preference for the seat.”
That was the truth. Or at least most of it.
A certain amount of surveillance had already been in place when she arrived, but things escalated significantly after the Protector’s visit. Max’s warnings to keep away from Antonin meant little when the man himself sought her out.
And she could do nothing but keep the horror and disgust under a thin veneer of calm when the look in the Protector’s eyes had gone from coolly assessing to avaricious.
Petra held her breath again, praying that Silas would take what she’d given him at face value. She didn’t want to have to explain the proposition she’d received, nor that the reason for the Protector’s visit was to get an answer from her — one way or another.
Something told her he’d take the news that another man sought her witchbond poorly. If he pressed, she would be forced to lie.
At length, Silas let out a long, put-upon sigh. “Looks like my little goddess has made a mess. I can’t tell if I’m annoyed or impressed by the sheer scale of your fuck-up. You really do need my help.”
A bitter taste filled her mouth, wiping out whatever remained of her lust. “If you’re referring to the fuck-up where I thought askingyoufor help would actually get me somewhere, then I agree with you. I’m also impressed by the scale of bullshit it’s brought me.”
Rubbing his thumb over her throbbing pulse, Silas gave her a long, mocking look. “Asking me for help was probably the smartest thing you could have done.”
“Why is that?”
He stooped to press a featherlight kiss to her pursed lips. It was as silky and dangerous as the flat side of a knife sliding across her mouth. “Because I would have killed anyone else you asked.”
Chapter Fifteen
If she wasn’t strungout on adrenaline and anger, Silas suspected Petra would have been dead on her feet by the time she reluctantly escorted him through the short, utilitarian secret passage connected to her closet.
It annoyed him that he’d missed the secret door when he went through her room, but not so much that he regretted it being there. That door would make coming and going much easier for him. Silas made a mental note to inform Tal of its existence in the morning.
Not that his brother needed doors. Tal could move from shadow to shadow in a way only a wraith could. If he wanted to, he could have hidden himself away in any tiny corner and no one but Silas would have known.
Not that hewould,though. His brother wasn’t allowed into Petra’s den unless it was an emergency. Silas had made that very, very clear.
No one was allowed into her den but him.Ever.
He’d timed their little date to coincide with a morning when she wouldn’t be expected to give dawn service, but his witch was used to early mornings and therefore struggled with the late hour. Considering how badly she’d begun to flag, he wasimpressed by how strongly she fought him on the sleeping arrangements.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” she insisted again. She’d only just given up on trying to convince him to leave the cathedral grounds entirely and seemed to have swung hard to putting all her weight behind a ridiculous notion that they wouldn’t be sleeping together.
Silas dropped his backpack on the floor next to his side of the bed — the one closest to the hidden door, because one never knew — and rummaged around for his sleep pants.
His preference was to sleep nude, of course, but quick escapes were a pain with a cock out.
“Sleep on the floor and I’ll just join you there,” he said, extracting his clothing.
“Why?”
