Phin had certainly been called worse, but for some reason this accusation stung. “I did not steal the necklace. It was entrusted to me by a friend.”
“Your friend, the thief,” the man sneered.
Phin couldn’t exactly argue that since he wasn’t sure how Barnaby had acquired the artifact. His impulsive friend had something of a history with landing himself in troubles grander and more perilousthan should be encountered by a simple entomologist.
“Are you any better?” Phin retorted with an arched brow. “Did you not break into my home? Attack Mr. Mishra at his shop?”
The man turned and spit to the floor. “I am a Protector,” he said sharply. “Those actions were not mine.”
Alarm shot through Phin’s bones, chilling him. Eleanor had swung her wide gaze to him when he’d mentioned the prior incidents, but he didn’t look at her. His stare remained intent upon their prisoner. “If not you, then who?”
“You’ll need to ask your friend that question.” His gaze was hard, cold, and dark. “He worked for them, conspired with them to steal what had been our burden and purpose for generations.”
Though he wanted to inquire more on the meaning ofburden and purpose, Barnaby was at the forefront of his concern.
“What happened to him?” Phin asked, taking a step forward. “Is he still alive?”
The man scowled harshly before saying, “His fate is none of my concern.”
His dismissive tone was infuriating. Barnaby was a good man at his core. Impulsive, perhaps. Passionate and prone to distraction. But he didn’t deserve such a flippant disregard for his welfare. Fear for his friend turned to anger, urging Phin to take a long step forward, only to be stopped with a light touch on his arm and a single soft imploring word.
“Wait.”
He looked down at Eleanor to see her attention focused on the man before them. Her stillness and simmering intention drew the other man’s silent gaze.
“Let me be sure I understand.” Her voice was low and steady and impactful. “You call yourself a Protector. Devoted to dharmic purpose. Dedicated for generations to earn redemption for some past transgression.”
Phin stood transfixed as the tenor of her voice shifted into something almost unnatural. Soft but powerful. Rich with meaning.
“I know what karmic debt is being repaid by your bloodline,” she said in quiet confidence. “I know what your ancestor did.”
The man tensed and straightened his spine, sitting taller in the chair even as he bowed his head and lowered his gaze to the floor.
Eleanor cast a quick glance at Phin. In an instant, he saw the truth in her eyes, like a shock of certainty.
The assassin.
When their captive finally spoke, his words were strong despite their low volume. “We cannot alter the past. But we can contain the curse we invited. Our fate is writ. We are the Protectors.”
There was a heaviness in the air as Eleanor pressed, “Protectors of your past? Or of the future?”
For some reason, this question brought his head back up. There was turmoil in his eyes as he looked at her, holding her gaze for a long time before replying in a reverent tone, “It is my duty to protect the future, Kumari.”
To Phin’s limitless admiration, she responded with an unflinching stare. “Then help us. Letushelpyou. If we release you—”
A jolt of alarm shot through him. He wasn’t expecting that. “No.”
But Eleanor ignored him and lifted her chin. “If we release you,” she repeated more firmly, “will you assist us?”
“Assist you in what?”
“Bringing this issue to a proper conclusion.”
“What I believe to be proper and what you believe to be proper might be very different.”
“Then we will have to discuss it,” she noted simply. “Withoutblades and bloodshed.”
Phin didn’t like it. Not at all. Though the man had been stripped of any weapons, Phin had seen men cause significant injury and death while completely unarmed. He was tempted to believe what the manwas saying about his motivation and purpose, but that didn’t mean he had to trust him entirely. Especially not when it came to Eleanor’s safety.
