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“Aurick,” I greet him with cold venom coating my tongue.
He dips his head. “Skylenna.”
I walk over to his couch, my bare feet sinking into the soft carpet. With one last glance in his direction, I lower myself, nodding to the space next to me.
“You owe me answers.” Despite how breakable I feel, my voice sounds strong, fierce, nearly destructive.
“Without Dessin,” he clarifies, dropping down to the leather couch. “You wanted me to answer without Dessin in the room.”
I shrug. “He’s been just as secretive and duplicitous as you.”
Aurick’s expression changes, a flash of guilt, a brief furrowed brow, darkened gaze. But it vanishes, replaced with cool indifference. He scratches his head. “Yeah. I can’t figure that out either. I know why I lied. I know why I needed to betray your trust. But I still can’t figure out why he didn’t tell you who I was. I was so sure once he learned of my association with you, my cover would be blown.”
I blink at him, studying his body language, searching for any signs of deception. But he seems genuine. I know I can’t trust anything he says, but he has a point. Why wouldn’t Dessin blow his cover? How could this have been part of his plan?
“I’m not here to talk about him,” I grit.
“No?”
“No. I need you to tell me everything. Why did you use me? Why did you lure me in? Why did you—hit me?”
Aurick cringes at the last part. “I think it’s rather self-explanatory,” he says casually. “I needed someone to spy on him for me. Dessin found a loophole in the system.”
I shake my head. “But why me?”
“We learned that Dessin saved you from—an accident—when he was nineteen. He had a few escapes when he was growing up that evaded my father’s attention. But this one he caught.”
They found out I was his weakness.
“My father wasn’t sure if it was a random coincidence that he saved you. But when he pulled you out of that burning house, it was confirmed.”
I cross my arms. “So, your father was the one running operations? He was the one experimenting on Dessin?”
Aurick shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “Yes. The project was passed down to me when he died a few months ago.”
A few months? “After he learned of Dessin saving me from the fire?”
He nods. “Mm-Hmm. I have wondered if he was the one that offed my father. I can’t say I’d blame him, Vlademur Demechnef ruined his life. Killed his family. Tortured him for years. But he was terminally ill for years. I don’t think that’s Dessin’s style.”
“So you just recently inherited”—I wave my hands around the room—“all of this?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
“And you really didn’t know that Masten was a Vexamen spy?”
He scoffs, rolling his neck. “I’m ashamed to say I had no idea.”
“Then that part wasn’t a lie. Your fiancé really did die. And—did your father really hurt her?” I know it’s probably rude to ask. But he used me like a pawn on his war board. I can ask whatever the hell I want.
“Yes.” He stiffens, looking at the fireplace with hollow fixation.
“And you thought if I was Dessin’s weakness then you could use me to lure him out.”
He nods his head slowly, lids drooping, like he’d rather talk about anything else.
“But why? You don’t exactly sound fond of your father or of his methods. Why continue his work?”
