“The terms were pretty simple: If and when I found the Incantus, it belonged to Robert. Any other treasure in and around the object was mine, along with a significant finder’s fee. I hunted the Incantus for nearly three years, gathering all the data from the searches before mine. I thought I came close a couple of times, but no luck. Until I discovered a clue.”
“What kind of clue?”
“A journal filled with code hidden inside a crypt. It took forever to decipher it, but eventually, I did. My team traveled to the location in the journal, and we found the Incantus. But that wasn’t all. The treasure trove contained other artifacts, many of which we took back with us. Among them was the blue flame crossbow. I planned to add it to my collection. A trophy of sorts to commemorate the find of a lifetime.”
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. “That’s incredible.”
Bowen’s gaze took on a faraway look. “It was. Until we returned home. See, the trouble with working for criminal clients is that you can easily get caught up in their world. My team and I unloaded the Incantus as well as the other artifacts inside Robert Lennox’s warehouse and gathered back at the manor to celebrate. Hours later, it was all gone. Burned to ashes.” Bowen’s hand clenched into a fist, and his voice dipped. “Robert’s illegitimate son Argus Ward—who, ironically, was the leader of a rival gang—set fire to the warehouse. It was an act of retaliation against Robert, and we got entangled in it.
“At the time, it wasn’t clear who set the fire, and the blame fell on us since we’d just returned with the treasure. When the flames were extinguished, everything was destroyed, but there were no remnants of the treasure, and we realized it had been stolen. Robert thought I wanted the Incantus for myself. He assumed I stole it and set the fire as a decoy.
“As punishment, he blacklisted me with every client from here to the farthest kingdom. No one would hire me. I was ruined. But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted my complete devastation; physical proof of the consequences for crossing him. So he gave me these.” Bowen’s hand slid down the side of his face, pointing to his scars. “After that, no one would go near me. They were too frightened.”
“But that’s not fair!” I nearly shot out of my chair. “What about Argus? What happened to the treasure?”
“No one knows. The Incantus has never resurfaced. Robert is presumed dead, though there are rumors they never found his body, and as for Argus, that leads us to the present. He’s the leader of the gang now, and that’s why I wanted the Grimm’s blade. Argus is searching for it, and I plan to keep it from him.”
I worried my lip between my teeth, trying to wrap my head around all the details. My heart ached for Bowen, but a part of me also feared for his future. He might think he didn’t have one, but I knew better than most about moving on after loss.
Ever since I arrived at the manor, I’d heard whispers of Bowen’s plan. Whispers that spoke of sparking a war between him and the local criminal element. I understood his feelings of revenge and the drive to right a severe wrong, but where did it end?
“Isn’t that risky? You suffered so much. What if—?”
“Stay out of it, Liana.” Bowen’s tone forbade any argument, and I bit my tongue to keep from pressing the issue. I didn’t have a say in his future, and even though I felt a strong desire to protect him from further hurt, it wasn’t my place.
“So now you know what happened. The whole truth. I’m sure the rumors are twice as bad. I just don’t care anymore. All I want is for Argus to pay, and for you to complete your commission. In a small way, it will be like having what was lost returned to me.”
“I understand how you feel. More than you know.”
He angled his head, brow creasing the longer he stared. I could tell he was remembering my odd behavior, fear of enclosed spaces, and the panic attack in the carriage.
“Liana, I have to ask—”
I pushed back my chair and rose unsteadily to my feet. Grabbing the edge of the table, I forced a smile and flashed a handful of coins in my palm. “I’m still thirsty. How about one more drink? My treat.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea!” I said with forced cheerfulness. “Wait here.” Before he could argue, I stepped away from the table and hurried toward the staircase. My alcohol-buzzed brain made the steps wobble, but I took them slowly, keeping a tight grip on the handrail.
The tavern seemed fuller than before, and I weaved through the dense crowd. At the bar, I ordered our drinks and leaned back against the counter. My gaze tracked to the darkened loft. I couldn’t see Bowen, but I knew he was watching.
The rush to get another drink was a poorly planned attempt at diverting his attention from the question I was sure he was about to ask. I hated that he’d shared so much of himself but I was still reluctant to let him know about my past. I just wasn’t ready. He might be used to the pitiful stares and dark looks, but I didn’t think I’d ever get used to them. And that was all I got once someone knew my history.
Poor Liana Archer, the girl held captive by a witch.
“That’ll be four royal coins, lady.”
The barkeep’s gruff voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I slid the coins across the counter and collected our drinks, grabbing a mug in each hand. I was halfway to the stairs when I heard a faint sound. At first, it was only a few notes on the air, nearly masked by the crowd, but then it grew louder, closer.
The familiar tune washed over me, and I sucked in a sharp breath, recognizing the haunting strings of the song my father used to sing to Hendrik and me before bedtime. I hadn’t heard it in years. Not since the last night with the witch.
The fuzz in my brain vanished, crystallizing into sharp awareness.
A man brushed past my shoulder. As we made contact, a thick haze of magic sank into my bones. It felt oily and dense, and a numbness spread through my body. The whistling faded along with the sickening sludge of magic as the man kept moving. My heart thundered in my ears, and I spun, ale sloshing from the mugs to slap against the sticky floor. I spotted him through the crowd. A mop of blond hair peeked from beneath a woolen cap. He was tall and lanky, walking with nervous energy and a slight limp.
It can’t be.
I tracked his movement across the tavern and out the door. This wasn’t one of my hallucinations; guilt manifesting in the face of some young boy. This was real.
