It made sense. Orin had joined us for our midnight gambling adventure, to see if Henrik would win more money to repay Yeshar with. Orin and Henrik had been roommates. What better way to keep a close eye on someone you’re supposed to be watching? And Yeshar wasn’t the type to get his own hands dirty. It explained why Henrik couldn’t keep the box in his own room, too.
Even though I wasn’t the criminal mastermind of this particular theft, Yeshar hadn’t known that.
The gold was as good as gone. Henrik wouldn’t ever see it again now that someone else had it. It likely meant Henrikwould end up dead or become one of Yeshar’s toadies. I found I couldn’t dredge up enough compassion to care either way.
“Well this has been insightful.” I turned to leave.
“Hold on!” Henrik called. I stopped, my back to him. “We have to find out who took it.”
The laugh that came out of me sounded brittle. I already knew who had taken it. “No.”
His tone turned pleading. “If Yeshar finds out I stole his contact list, he’ll kill me.”
“Did you think of that before or after you gave me the box?”
He hesitated.
Before, then.
So he’d known he was gambling with my life by giving me the box. Had he ever seen me as a friend, or just someone he could use? “So it was okay if he killed me instead, for a theft I didn’t commit. I should tell Yeshar you stole it. You deserve whatever you get.”
Henrik looked stricken. “If you do, I’m dead.”
“And if I don’t, I’m dead. Do you see the problem here?”
Henrik’s shoulders hunched in defeat. “Devourer damn it all! I didn’t mean for anyone to find it.”
The shriveled husk that remained of our once-friendship gave a dull painful thud. He was genuine. Stupid beyond belief, but genuine.
The impulse to sell Henrik out to Yeshar was immediate. Vindictive as it was, revenge would feel good. It wouldn’t help me though, even if I did. Yeshar already believed I was the thief. He would just assume I was lying to cover for myself.
“I won’t tell Yeshar you stole the list,” I said. “But don’t ever drag me into your mess again.” I paused. “You’re off the guest list for my wedding tomorrow, too.”
“Lisia, I–”
“I don’t care!” I shouted, glaring at him. Anger had burned the box I’d shoved it into down to cinders. “I don’t want to hear your excuses or listen to a belated apology now that you’ve been caught. Don’t ask me for help. What was the plan if I opened the box?”
“You wouldn’t have,” he shook his head. He looked chastened, but not nearly enough. “You’re too moral.”
Something dark and bubbling escaped out my mouth. After a few seconds I identified it as laughter. It sounded icy and vicious. “Moral? You have no idea how fucked up my morals are. You’re right though, I am trying to be a better person. But not to you. Not anymore. You used me. We’re done.”
I let the door slam shut behind me.
Chapter 35
Wedding Bells
Stonehearth Chapel had once been an upscale restaurant, and the legacy of that still clung to it like a shroud. The walls were made of thick slabs of stone, with huge indents carved out of the sides to allow light in. Vines and other greenery had rampaged across the structure since then, twining themselves through the cracks between rocks in a lattice of thorny leaves. Some of the vines sprouted colorful blooms, splashes of brightness against the bleak gray of the stone.
Today was the first I’d seen of the interior. The once-kitchen had been converted into a suite, separated from the main church. The center island had been transformed into a bifurcated mirror, and the food pantries repurposed into storage for all manner of hair and skin care products.
I picked up a bottle of something blue and sniffed the vaguely fruity fragrance.
“None of that now, you’ll get it on your dress!” Mama snatched it from my hands.
I sighed. I’d been trying to avoid looking at myself in the outfit she’d prepared for me in the center mirrors, but it drew the eye like a gauzy ivory eyesore.
It fit me, but that’s about all the dress had going for it.
