Darcy’s hand dropped to my waist to steady me. “It’s too dangerous.”
Being in here with him was much more dangerous.
I sucked in an unsteady breath and met his gaze. “What’s dangerous about it? He’s restrained, you’ll be in there with me, and he can’t recognize us like this.”
Darcy sighed. “Are you always this stubborn?”
I smiled. “Kettle, meet cauldron.”
Not even the darkness could fully hide the glint of his exasperated smile. “Fine, but I’m—”
“Coming with me.” I held up our hands with a teasing smile. “I know. But before we go in, I need to get something from your room.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He led me a short way down the secret passage, then pulled another lever that released us into the hall.
Trying to get my bearings, I turned toward Darcy’s room.
He pulled on my hand. “Not that way.”
“Oh?” I glanced down the hall. Usually, I had a pretty good sense of direction.
“The house rearranges itself sometimes,” Darcy said. “There’s magic in the foundation.”
I should have guessed. That explained why my nose always itched here.
Darcy led me to his room, and I rifled through my messenger bag, pulling out clothes and toiletries. I rummaged through an outer pocket, discarding pieces of gum and bobby pins.
“Found it.” I smiled and wrapped my hand around a pen.
“Found what?” Darcy narrowed his eyes.
“You’ll see.” I snagged a few pieces of paper from Darcy’s desk and returned to the study. I stopped outside the door and took a deep breath before letting go of Darcy’shand to enter the room. We couldn’t be far from each other, but walking in like some lovesick couple wouldn’t help.
A woman wearing the same dark clothing as the other bodyguards stood in the corner.
I laid a piece of paper and the pen on the table and casually rested my other hand on my hip to keep it near Darcy, unobtrusively studying the man. His jaw was tight and covered by a faint scruff that didn’t entirely hide his cleft chin, and his forearms were flexed as if still subtly resisting whatever magic held him captive.
The first man had spent most of his questions trying to get the fae to open up about Easton, Darcy, and their group. Since that hadn’t worked, I’d take a different route.
“Some people here think you killed someone,” I said.
The man stiffened and met my eyes, then relaxed again. But it was clearly for show because despite the way he leaned back against his chair, it was impossible to miss the tension in his shoulders or the fury sparking in his gaze. “I haven’t.”
“If you want to prove them wrong, I need you to agree to answer a few questions.” I kept my expression even andworded everything carefully. As long as the man agreed to an interview and picked up the pen, the potion would compel him to answer my next five questions truthfully—the pen’s version of a time limit.
“Why should I?” He folded his arms across his chest, revealing the hint of a tattoo peeking out from his left sleeve.
“Because maybe I can help.” I slid the paper across the table with a quiet rustle.
He scoffed, his eyes gleaming with frustration. “Help? You’re with the people who brought me here.”
“True, but I don’t see anyone else trying to help.” Not that I wanted to help a fae, especially one who might have killed someone, but I could help uncover the truth.
His nostrils flared, and he glanced over my shoulder at the still-glamoured Darcy before returning his attention to me.
In the distance, a clock ticked loudly, counting down each moment. I let the silence simmer. It often had more of an unsettling effect than talking. Surprisingly, Darcy stayed silent, letting me lead the interrogation.
“Fine.” The man blew out a breath. “What do you want?”
