Her expression brightened far too much for the nature of this conversation. “Yes?”
“Stop trying to turn me to putty after delivering information like that—I am not the Death Origin,” I ground out.
She hummed, “No, you are not. But he’s sank his claws into you. You’ve wielded Death, haven’t you? You seem to always be wearing those gloves.”
“I’ve done no such thing.” The lie felt sour on my tongue.I had.She continued to touch the space where my stubble met my neck, tickling me. “And stop touching me like that. For Sources’ sake, you’re Fen’s sister.”
“So what? You are owed a bit of fun before your likely demise.”
I leaned away. “He’s my friend. He would burn me alive where I sit. And you’re just trying to distract me like you do with my guards.”
I scanned her face. She was pretty—wide hazel eyes and freckles across a dainty nose that made her appear softer than I knew her to be. Under different circumstances, maybe my interest would have been piqued.
But I’d never been one for trysts, and my damned heart always latched onto only one woman at a time. I’d made a habit of taking an interest in emotionally unavailable women who held my secrets.
But Ryssa held my secretsforme, notfromme.
Elsedora stood and said, “What a shame. Something tells me you could use a bit of distraction.”
As she headed for the door, my heart thundered.
“Wait.” I stopped her. “Did you take a map from the crypts?”
Her lips turned up and she nodded. “Care to tell me what it does?”
“I don’t know, actually,” I answered. “I’m not confirming that I believe you, but hypothetically, if I am one of these envoys…how do I stop it?”
Leaning in the doorway, she crossed her arms and something akin to sadness crossed her features. “You don’t,” she said. “At least we have no reason to believe that Caym would let you go in any way other than death. He will keep killing through you, building his strength until then.”
She hovered there as though wanting to say more as I swallowed hard. I’d killed innocent people. I’d “Death-wielded,” as she’d put it.
My shoulders collapsed; my elbows rested on my knees as I tried to absorb what she’d told me.
Finally, she added, “There are two more like you. Sybilla suspects Haward and Bringham. Be careful who you allow into this castle…for their sake and yours.”
I nodded as my stomach dropped, and then she was gone.
As soon as Elsedora’s footsteps were far enough down the hall, I leaped up and moved for the door.
Lady Ryssa had mentioned once that she spent most afternoons in her gardens. Suddenly, I felt ashamed that I’d never visited her before. It was a prominent estate just a short ride from the castle, and I took a carriage.
I stepped up to the front door and flexed my gloved fingers in anticipation. I knocked, and there was a commotion inside like someone was fumbling to get to the entry.
A gruff male voice said, “Who’s it?”
Had she mentioned a husband? I knew she wore a ring beneath her gloves. Why did that possibility bring out an ugly possessive streak in me?
“It is—” Before I could finish my answer, the door swung open.
A man, seeming to be in his late eighties, greeted me. “What do you want?” His white hair was wiry and untamed atop his head.
He seemed to look past me and didn’t bow—that much I liked about him. “It is King Mattock. I’m here to see Lady Ryssa. This is her residence, is it not?”
At that, the man let out a hearty, condescending laugh. “Yeah, boy, you’re King Mattock. And I’m the Prince of damned fools.”
I was taken aback, but then I realized the man still wasn’t looking at me.
“This ismyresidence, boy. That Ryssa girl has been a big help to an old blind bastard like me. Come in.”
