Clesian went still. “You mean to wound him. To force a bargain like Rebellyn did.”
“Assuming he’s open to that path,” I said coolly. “The other option is to kill him.”
“You cannot be serious,” Lydia said as she stared slack-jawed at me. “I understand your drive, truly I do. But to take down Death? Many have tried, and none have succeeded. It’s too dangerous.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying,” Rorik muttered.
“I know it’s risky, but I’ve made up my mind. I am the only one among us who can summon him, and I have magic on my side, unlike Rebellyn. Between that and the blade, I have a chance.” My words never faltered, and I held their gazes the entire time. This wasmyplan. No one would stop me.
Lydia glanced between me and Clesian. “I’m not sure...”
“That’s all right. I am.” I drained the rest of my wine and set the glass on the coffee table between us.
“Even so,” Clesian said, drawing out the words slowly, “the first problem lies in acquiring the blade itself. Zeverin will kill you just for trying.”
“And if you think you’re getting anywhere near that vault without everyone’s eyes on you, you’re wrong.” Rorik’s stare was more intense than the flames at my back. “You’ll be on display the entire time. Zeverin wants to know if you’re worth stealing. If you get close to that vault, he’ll just throw you in there.”
“I’ll do it, then,” Seville said with a shrug.
“Asinine,” Rorik muttered as he pinched his nose.
“Maybe. But while you sit here and refuse to help yourheartbond”—her emphasis on the word made Rorik still—“I’ll do whatever I can to help keep her alive. Rumor has it Zeverin is in the market for a partner of his own. I can keep his attention focused elsewhere.”
“You don’t even know where the safe is,” Lydia said. “Is this really the best option?”
“Don’t pretend like you aren’t intrigued by the idea. You’d do anything to protect Amalyss and Tasia from this fate,” Seville said calmly. Lydia sucked in a sharp breath and glowered at her, but Clesian stepped in before she could respond.
“That doesn’t mean we want you aimlessly wandering about the estate. But I think I can help.” He gripped the back of his neck. “I’m still in contact with a few friends who were emissaries along with me. While I didn’t work for the Embergraves, one of them did. I can talk to them and see what they know.”
Seville’s eyes lit up. “Fabulous.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Rorik said before finishing his drink.
“Oh, it’s happening. Besides, won’t it be fun to best your old man?” Seville said with a grin. Rorik hissed at that, but she only laughed. “Now, I’m going to get some rest.”
“I’ll visit my friend in the morning. Hopefully I’ll have good news shortly thereafter.” Clesian extended his hand to Lydia, and she took it as she stood up from the couch. After a quick round of good nights, the three of them left and climbed the stairs to their rooms.
A rumble of discontent simmered from somewhere deep in Rorik’s chest. “I hate this.”
“I know.” I stood and stretched my hands toward the ceiling. My bones creaked with the action, and a yawn threatened to spill from my lips. “But at least we have a plan and a reason to be there. We can prove how sickly and frail I am.” I filled that last sentence with as much sarcasm as I could muster, but anger still flitted across Rorik’s face. Slowly, he moved toward me.
“So, you admit it,” he murmured.
“Of course.” I frowned. “But that doesn’t change anything. I’ve been ‘sick’ since the day I tried to save my parents as a child.” I looked away, unable to deal with the hammering weight of his stare. “It’s not a recent development like you seem to think.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Static charged the room, and my pulse ratcheted as I stood before him.
“What would you have me do?” he asked, voice strained.
Cautiously, I grabbed one of his hands and upturned his palm. I trailed one finger along the lines and indents marking his skin, and a spark of warmth ignited down our heartbond. “You know what I want. Keep working with me. Keep helping me.”
“Is there nothing that will make you change your mind?”
“Not that I can think of.”
Rorik dipped his head toward mine. “Stubborn little mender.”
“Brutish fucking Ever.” I smacked his chest, though there wasn’t any force behind the hit. “Now, I’m tired. I don’t even have the energy to be angry with you, so we know that’s a sign I need sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
