Page 50 of She Who Was Once the Sea

Fear had turned to anger. Anger had turned to violence. And violence became our only means of communication.

"Maybe it’s conflict," Lucas said, eyes darting across the page.

I shook my head. Petra enjoyed conflict. I had no doubt about that. But enjoying it wasn’t the same as needing it.

"She’s grown stronger even in times of peace," I said. "She can obviously manufacture conflict. If she needed it to survive, why would she ever allow peace?"

Garrett reached across me for the book Lucas had been reading. As he did, his arm brushed mine. The contact was insignificant, but unfortunately, my body didn’t seem to think so.

It remembered him before my mind could stop it.

His hands.

His mouth.

The weight of him between my legs.

I moved my arm away, taking a deep and steadying breath. When I looked back at him, his nose was buried in the book, like he hadn’t even noticed.

I sighed and watched his eyes move across the page. Lucas had turned his attention to another tome, and I knew that I should be searching myself.

I pulled a book from the pile and pretended to start reading, but even as I sat myself down in a chair on the opposite side of the room, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him.

Garrett’s lips moved slightly as he read, like he was mumbling the words to himself.

I glared down at the book in my lap. The words on the page blurred together into nonsensical blocks of text.

What could I possibly learn from these books that I hadn’t been able to glean in centuries of searching?

And after all these years of seducing and luring men to their deaths, why was this one, singular Fratelli proving to be such a distraction?

It was supposed to be easy, making a man fall for me. But the longer I stared at Garrett, so immovably focused on the task of helping me, a veritable stranger, the more daunting I found the task.

Because how could I bargain with the soul of someone so… good?

I scanned the page before me, giving up on trying to focus on its entirety and instead simply searching for any mention of Petra.

Her name never appeared.

But why would it? Puppet masters are never featured in their own performances.

The hours ticked by. I flipped through pages rapidly, attempting to force myself not to constantly look up at Garrett.

I failed.

And every time I failed, every time I let my eyes flick upward to take in the way his features softened over the book, I felt something in my stomach sink when I realized that he wasn’t also looking at me.

Finally, after too much time spent focusing on him rather than the task at hand, I found myself pulled into the story of a dispute surrounding one of the old waterways.

Two wealthy families had fought for years over the rights to divert part of it through their land. The argument had spread through the city, pulling merchants and politicians into opposing sides.

Again, Petra’s name didn't appear anywhere. But her presence shimmered along the edge of the story, almost like I could see her standing at the center of it all.

Watching.

My head shot up. The movement was so sudden that it caught the attention of the men. Garrett’s eyes—finally—caught mine.

"She likes it," I said, holding his gaze.