He vibrated with impatience as he hustled her into the chair, taking her bag and placing it on the floor.
“Yes, yes, you’re a master manipulator, played me perfectly, got me wrapped around your little finger. Need me to keep stroking your ego or can I show you what I found?”
He crossed his burly arms, his onyx brows peeking through his tousled white strands.
Frenzied Dienses, it should be illegal for a male to be that good looking. She wondered why he’d come up here to Kheimos after his caging. He could’ve easily gone down to Delos, charmed the panties off some rich, widowed female and lived the rest of his days as a well-kept boy toy.
“You don’t need my permission,” she said. “I’m not your master.”
He cocked his head and smirked. “Would you like to be?”
Her stomach gave another stupid little flutter. “High Gods, Ronin, just tell me what you found.”
He seemed far too amused by her annoyance, and she scolded herself for letting him rile her. But she couldn’t help it. Of all the males she’d dealt with, Ronin had a unique ability for getting under her skin. In more ways than she cared to admit.
“Okay.” He clapped his hands and turned to the board. She tried, and failed, not to notice how well his broad shoulders filled out his tight black shirt.
Not relevant.Focus.
“These are the reports of the disappearances, the ones the relatives gave to the IA.” He tapped on several of the sheets. “Note the dates.”
Mireille made a cursory scan.
“Notethem, Mireille,” he scolded. “They’ll become important as I continue.”
She bit her lip to suppress a laugh. His enthusiasm was unexpected. And kind of adorable. She attached her gaze to each one in turn, cataloging the dates. “Noted.”
He side-stepped to the other side of the board, waving his hand across a series of images showing the night sky above the Blackspurs.
Mireille instantly recognized what she was looking at, and High Gods help her, she was actually impressed. “Those are the Scales of Nyctima.”
The iridescent, multicolored lights—a rare, natural phenomenon named after Nyctima, the giant pet serpent of Stygios—appeared in the Northern Territories’ sky every one-hundred-and-five days. They were said to represent the serpent as she prowled the skies of Ethyrios in search of recently departed souls.
Ronin flashed a smug, closed-lip smile. “These images were taken by the Figroth observatory in the eastern Blackspurs. And guess when they occurred?”
“The same dates those Fae disappeared,” Mireille murmured.
“Gold star.” Ronin tapped Mireille’s nose and she swatted him away. “And guess when the Scales of Nyctima will next grace our illustrious city’s sky?”
“Next week.” Mireille exhaled a long breath.
Ronin nodded. “When Otto is finally opening up his estate for this event.”
Mireille shook her head, surveying Ronin’s work. “Nicely done.”
“Not just a dumb beast after all.” Ronin cracked his knuckles. “Though other than the timing, I’m not sure what else this signifies.”
Mireille turned her chair back to the table and Ronin took the one beside her, wafting his enticing, evergreen scent. She rifled through the piles, then found the shipping intake forms she’d been reviewing yesterday.
“So, we know Otto’s been ordering large supplies of anastasium, the god-touched stone of Stygios. And now we find out that Fae have disappeared from his estate on nights when a light show named after the High God’s snake appears in the sky? Obviously it’s not a coincidence. Do you think the lights activate the stones somehow?”
Ronin rubbed at his jaw. “Even if they do, what is Otto using them for?”
“I don’t know.” Mireille twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She’d left it down today, and she saw Ronin mark the movement. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Well, after we learned that Otto had been taking in shipments of the stone, I went to the Imperial library downtown and checked out a few books about anastasium’s uses over the years, just to make sure I wasn’t wrong about it being merely decorative. I read through all ten books yesterday?—”
