Surprised, I raise an eyebrow, silently asking her what’s going on, and she meets my gaze with one full of determination. “I found this little gem in a mage’s trunk in Italy, back in the 70s. I was so intrigued that someone had placed a truth curse on a wedding ring, of all things. It’s amazing how many curses there are in this world and how many people are willing to use them on the people they supposedly love.”
With anger on her face, Phaedra squats down in front of my father again. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lord de Vere? After all, I believe you put a curse on the family ring you gave to your son, right? To limit his power.”
“Yes,” he replies, his neck straining. It’s obvious he didn’t want to answer her.
She stands and sneers down at him. “That was a particularly nasty curse. I’m so glad I removed it.”
His eyes drift to me and fill with anger. And fear. I blink. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen that particular expression on my father’s face. “What are you planning to do to me?” This time his demanding tone has an undercurrent of uncertainty in it.
Phaedra just unknowingly gave me the gift of a lifetime: hearing my father’s lies and half-truths. Desperate for him to trust me. Love me enough to be proud of how powerful I was instead of always checking to make sure I was wearing the ring.
Phaedra. She knew. I stare at the woman who’s turned my life upside down. I’ve been such a fool.
My father snorts, and I refocus on him. “I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to tell me the truth.”
20
PHAEDRA
Jamison grabs a chair and sits down in front of his father. He begins with a couple of questions that must have been burning within him for a very long time. Personal things about his mother. I move back a few steps to give them some privacy. The anger I’d felt toward his father slowly dissipates as I realize my plan worked.
When Jamison agreed to let me offer the knife to his father, I’d had to work fast. I knew he would never forgive himself if he was forced to kill him, and I couldn’t let that happen.
The most recent curse I’d used was the paralyzing one I’d devised for Hera’s enemies and placed on the peacock pin. It was simple and easy to wield. Easy to replicate and cast on the knife too. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that Lord de Vere wasn’t going to take the damn knife, so I’d had to improvise. When he reached out to grab me, I’d transferred the curse to my shirt.
The ring I’d brought from home. A truth curse comes in handy when you’re interrogating someone. And with what Jamison had told me about his father, I realized he’d rather die than tell the truth.
“Well done,” Mathias says, murmuring in my ear. His tone sends a delicious shiver down my back, and I look up at him. Obsidian eyes drift to my lips as if remembering our kiss, but he quickly looks away again.
“You too,” I tell him. “Tech geek. Warrior. You’re a man of many talents.” I look at Jamison and Hawthorne, then return my gaze to him. “But your best role is friend. Jamison called, and you came. No wonder he trusts you.”
He looks startled for a second. “He showed up for me first. The day we met, in fact.” A nostalgic smile crosses his face, and I’m caught by the simple joy in the gesture. “Unfortunately, I just received a text and have to leave sooner than I expected.”
I turn and grip his shirt, unable to help myself. “Don’t go. We can find another way to get the panel. It’s not worth your life.” He hesitates for a second, and I press on. “Please.”
His hand comes up and removes my hand, dropping it to my side. “I must. This is the only way to…” Firm lips compress, and he steps back from me. “You don’t know what you’re asking, and I don’t have time to explain it.”
Nonplussed, I search for answers, but his walls are too high. Guess this is how it feels when someone deliberately distances themselves and refuses to divulge their secrets. Touché.
He strides over and murmurs something to Hawthorne. Hawthorne frowns back at him and shakes his head. Mathias continues talking for a minute, and Hawthorne finally dips his head in agreement.
After he leaves, I tune back in to Jamison and his father.
“Why did you put a curse on my ring?”
His father tries to press his lips together, but the words come tumbling out anyway. “To make you appear weaker than you were.”
I raise an eyebrow. Still playing games. Answering with the truth but in a way that’s completely frustrating. Jamison must think so too because he slams his hand down on the arm of his father’s chair.
“Why did I need to appear weaker?”
His father looks at me and narrows his eyes, as if to say this is my fault. I smile. Damn right it is.
“So, he wouldn’t target you,” the elder de Vere murmurs.
Jamison straightens and stares at his father. “Who?”
“Bennett,” his father admits, his jaw ticking with anger.
