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Delara whispered, “Balen is Anstice’s brother and what I consider jam—sweet, smooth, and delicious. And he is totally in love with Danni. Come on. I’ll show you the apartment.”
Danni snagged a cell phone from the easel tray where tubes of paint sat, tapped on the screen, and put it to her ear as she called out, “I’m calling Jedrik. He’ll be pissed if we don’t invite him.”
Delara huffed. “Let him be pissed.”
Danni’s brows rose. “You guys fighting?”
Delara shrugged as she urged me to the stairs at the back of the gallery.
The apartment was quaint with warm, inviting soft green walls and a few of Danni’s paintings hanging. But it was the worn furniture and throw blankets and abundance of pillows that I really loved. Nothing really matched, but each piece told a story, had history. It was kind of messy, which I liked, too.
A jacket lay on an old armchair. Worn magazines and books were scattered on the glass coffee table, and two cat dishes sat on the countertop in the kitchen by the old green fridge. Nothing was in order, making it the complete opposite of what Anton liked.
It was perfect.
“Splat, that’s the fat cat, is Danni’s. He lives here as the gallery cat. She tried to take him to their new place, but all he did was cry, so she brought him back. The regular clients of Danni’s bring him treats all the time. You good with cats?”
I had no idea, never had a pet. But he looked cute. “Yeah,” I said.
There were two small bedrooms in the apartment, each with windows. Mine overlooked the back alley, not much to look at, but it had an escape route and I could see the sun, the moon, and the sky. That was more than I’d ever had.
Delara threw a navy blue T-shirt onto the bed. “We’ll go shopping when you’re up to it, but borrow anything of mine until then. You got dibs on the shower. Shampoo and stuff are in there. I have to make a call.”
“Thanks.” I half-smiled and Delara left the bedroom, closing the door.
It felt safe here.
Except one thing was missing, Kilter.
Year 1880
I groaned as my head cleared then pried my eyes open. I was greeted with blackness and the weight of a five-pound steel bucket on my head. I tried to move my arms, but they were chained above my head, and I felt the manacles around my ankles.
What the hell?
I yanked violently on my arms and biting pain shot through my wrists as the shackles cut into my skin. Blood trickled down my arms.
Intense, red-hot fury tore through me and my eyes blazed red, my Visionary abilities burning the steel bucket that blinded me.
But my ability ricocheted and the heat tore back at me and scorched my eyes. “Jesus Christ.” My body jerked against the chains and a loud roar ripped from my lungs.
I closed my eyes and tried to raise my Ink, even though I knew it was pointless. I felt the piece of metal covering it. Whoever had kidnapped me knew about my Ink and my vision.
A door creaked and I stiffened. “Ah, you’re awake.”
What the hell? Ulrich?
Something scraped across the floor; then footsteps approached.
“You look rather ridiculous, Kilter. Chained up like a carcass.” My brother clucked his tongue. “And look, you’re bleeding.”
“Get me the hell out of here, Ulrich.”
My bastard brother probably needed gold to pay off debts and planned on blackmailing me for it.
Tye often said Ulrich needed a good two years under Waleron’s thumb to straighten him out, and once I got the hell out of this, I’d make damn sure it happened.
