“I hate to see you so upset. Don’t you think it’s best if you keep the stones? You need your sleep, and this might be the thing to encourage it. Hildred!”
Lux’s eyes bulged over the shouted name. She ducked her face.
Several silent moments passed. In which Silas left to return to whatever needed to be done about his carriage, and the other two collectors stood as barbaric sentries in the foyer. From here,Lux couldn’t tell who’d turned their brilliance against her and so she offered murderous glares to both.
“Death to the Devil,” grumbled Corvin. “I’ll have to ask Manphry about her. Godfrey!”
Someone shifted and soon scurried down the lamplit corridor. “Yes, Lord Corvin?”
“Please assist Ms. Thorn to her bedchamber. Ensure she keeps the rocks inside along the way.”
Lux’s mouth fell wide as the attendant came to do as told. “No.No.Corvin, what are you doing?”
“What is best for you. For us both.” His chin dipped, and suddenly his lips were a mere breadth from her own, his hand brushing back her hair. “Do this one thing for me. Have faith, Lux.”
She sucked a stunned breath; Corvin’s mouth brushed light and cold against her cheek.
Godfrey’s touch was not gentle. He looped his arm beneath hers and hauled her up. Lux allowed the help as her legs were impossibly heavy. Once steady, she glanced at the attendant’s profile. His eyes settled on hers before shifting away; they were hazel but muted. Dulled—same as Hildred’s. Same as Manphry’s.
Lux’s stare narrowed. She used their closeness as an opportunity to grab hold of his wrist.
His temperature was strange. Cool, but like the way an inanimate object was at the whim of its surroundings. She dug deeper. Her eyes unfocused; she shifted to his insides.
She waited for light but found none.
She searched for corruption. She found none of that either.
Devil below.
He wasempty. No lifeblood. Nosoul. No…
Nothing.
Her insides clenched and then roiled. She opened her eyes and thought she might be sick over her shoes.
It’s wrong. It’s so abhorrently wrong.
She swayed as she returned to herself.
“This way,” said Godfrey.
He’d only shuffled her to the base of the first staircase when a pounding came against the doors. Lux glanced over her shoulder. She wanted to see if it was Silas, if he’d come with another poisoned investor for the basement crypt. She watched as Corvin moved toward the door, waving the other collectors aside to pull it wide.
Lux knocked into Godfrey.
“Up the stairs,” he said.
She ignored him.
The man at the door was not Silas. Nor any collector for that matter, she was sure. This man wore a thick, brown coat and matching cap, brown trousers, and fine, black boots. The shirt snagged her eyes last and held them longest: a silken, jewel blue.
His arm was outstretched, and his bare grip revealed an ivory card.
“Ah, and so the guests of honor begin to arrive. Welcome to Mothlock Manor,” said Corvin with a note of pleasant surprise. He took the card. His head snapped up after a short glance. “Ghadra?”
“Your invitation was well received by our newly elected mayor.” The man stepped over the threshold where the lamplight discovered the sharp angles of his face.
He removed his cap and unruly, copper locks fell free.
