“He thinks I’m just a baker. He underestimates me. That’s an advantage.”
“Marina, please.” His fear for her, not for himself, pressed against her ribs like a hand. “If something happened to you…”
“Then at least I’ll have done something.” She pulled free of his grip. “Stay here. Keep Dante close. If I’m not back in an hour, call Estelle.”
“Marina—”
But she was already gone.
Malachar’s hotel was on the edge of town, far enough from the waterfront that the sea air didn’t quite reach. The building was old money pretending to be modest: the kind of place thatcharged astronomical rates while maintaining an air of casual elegance.
Marina found him in the garden courtyard, drinking wine like a man without a care in the world.
“Miss Pearl.” His smile was warm, welcoming, utterly false. “What a pleasant surprise. Come to discuss recipes?”
“Give it back.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“My grandmother’s book. The one you stole from my bakery while I was distracted. Give it back.”
Malachar’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes went flat. “Careful, little seal. You’re making accusations you can’t support.”
“I don’t need to support them. I just need you to know that I know.” She stepped closer, channeling every ounce of courage she possessed. “You’ve been feeding on the Draven curse for two centuries. You witnessed the original contract. Every time they’ve gotten close to breaking free, you’ve steered them wrong. And now you’re trying to do the same to Alessandro.”
The charm fell away.
“Clever girl.” His voice had changed: deeper, rougher, with an undertone that made her skin crawl. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out. Your grandmother was clever too. That’s why I made sure she never got the chance to use that recipe.”
Marina went still. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing dramatic. A suggestion to a doctor here. A misfiled prescription there. Old age is so fragile, isn’t it?” He sipped his wine. “She suspected me, you know. At the end. But by then it was too late.”
Marina’s hands were shaking. With fear. With rage. With the terrible knowledge that this monster had helped kill her grandmother.
“I’m going to destroy you,” she whispered.
“No, little seal. You’re going to step back and stay out of dragon business.” He set down his wine glass with exaggerated care. “Because if you don’t, I’ll skin you and use your pelt as a rug.”
The threat landed. Her pelt. He knew about her pelt.
Of course he did. He’d been researching her family. He knew exactly what she was, and exactly how to hurt her.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He leaned forward, and she saw his true form flicker behind the human mask. A thing that had been feeding on suffering for longer than she could imagine. “Run back to your dragon, Miss Pearl. Tell him what you learned. See if he believes you.”
She ran.
Through the hotel. Through the streets. Through the salt-scented evening air that suddenly felt like a cage.
Alessandro was waiting at the bakery. The moment he saw her face, his expression shifted from worry to fury.
“What happened?”
“He admitted it. All of it.” The words tumbled out. “He’s been feeding on the curse for centuries. He killed my grandmother, or helped kill her, to stop her from breaking it. And he has the book. He has the recipe.”
“I’ll kill him.”
