“Glad to see you’re making yourself at home, then.”
But he held Briar’s hand back to the bedroom.
Inside, Linden closed the doors, offering Briar a last glimpse of the chandelier winking at the end of the dark hall.
The recognition hit Briar threefold.
The last time he’d seen that chandelier was in the window of a portal, through which Gretchen’s murderer fled.
Linden turned back to him. The look he gave Briar then made him feel like a rabbit in a snare. Satisfaction and seductive intent coiled lazily together in the hooded flick of his gaze. He set a hand on Briar’s neck and leaned in to kiss him. Revulsion hit Briar so strongly his memory blanked. Next thing he knew, Linden had pulled away, a smirk playing across the lips Briar couldn’t believe he’d kissed.
“It’s so good to finally be alone with you without the usual barriers. Amulets. The public,” Linden said.
Briar squeezed his eyes shut when another kiss came. He silently screamed into it. This man was a murderer. He could summon sweetwords, but Briar could no longer pretend they weren’t sickle-sharp lies. He knew the truth, and it made touching Linden abhorrent, unforgivable. At the same time, it felt dangerous to deny him. Suspicion already clouded their every interaction.
He couldn’t alert Linden to what he knew.
He couldn’t let those hands touch him, either. He’d be sick.
But then, he was already sick.
He feigned a stumble, eyes fluttering, then hit the floor.
Now Linden’s hands were on him, but at least not sneaking under clothes. “Briar?” he said. How had Briar ever thought that voice could soundkind?
“The curse,” Briar said. “I’m—sorry. I don’t think I can do this until I’m feeling better.”
“No, of course, how insensitive of me. I apologize. Ardor overcame me.
We will have you feeling better soon. For now, you should rest.” He helped Briar into bed and kissed him goodnight.
Briar held his breath and hoped it would be the last touch he ever endured from Linden Fairchild.
It took a while for Linden to fall asleep. Revelations spun in Briar’s head, and the curse ailed him with dogged conviction. He lay on his side with his back to Linden, a gulf of mattress between them.
He’d formulated a plan, and now he waited for the moment to execute it.
The issue was Atticus. Sneaking out of bed without disturbing a person, that was a feat, but not impossible. Without alerting a cat? He had to await the perfect moment, when Atticus was too deeply asleep to notice anyone casting spells.
Mostly, he depended on Vatii for this. She settled on the mattress within reach of Atticus’s pluming tail. Every once in a while, she’d give the hairs a gentle pluck. If Atticus twitched his tail or swiveled an ear, she pretended to sleep again.
Finally, she whispered, “It’s now or never.”
Briar took the feather she gave him and cast the same silencing spell. Vatii went to his belt of tithes and pulled out a small bottle of fine white sand. Normally, he used it to enchant pajamas to make the wearer feel cozy and sleepy. This time it would ensure that, when he moved, neither Linden nor Atticus would wake.
Every incantation now felt next to impossible—dredging moisture out of desert air—but adrenaline helped. The pinch of sand in his palm vanished. Nothing seemed to occur, except Linden took a long, deep breath. A sleepy sigh.
Briar rolled to his feet. If the spells didn’t hold, and he was caught now… well, he had a few lies prepared, but he doubted they would hold water.
It took some searching to find Linden’s keys. The trousers he’d been wearing when he tucked them in his pocket were gone, collected by a servant. Briar looked through the walk-in closet, searching cubbies and drawers. Eventually, Vatii swooped to his shoulder and nipped his ear.
“The bedside cabinet,” she said.
Sure enough, the drawer was slightly ajar. Sleep charm or no, Briar held his breath as he pulled it open, watching Linden for signs of waking. The ring of keys lay amongst a few pouches of tithes. Linden color coded them, and the blue one contained bone powder.
If Briar got caught, that was his escape route. He took out the jar that had contained his sand and scooped a measure of bone dust into it. Before he shut the drawer, he noticed something else. A familiar bracelet, the stone shining in the low light. Linden might notice if he tampered with it, but Briar could not allow him to return to Coill Darragh. Making a snap decision, he took the knife from his tithe belt and sawed through the bracelet, severing it. Then he gently shut the drawer, leaving it slightly ajar like before.
Keys clutched in his fist so they wouldn’t jingle, Briar crept out of the room and to the shut door amongst all the open ones in the hall. He slipped the key into the lock. Theplunkof the heavy metal sliding open mimicked the heavy beat in his chest.
