“I couldn’t.” The man’s voice fractured beneath the strain. “Someone compelled me. I swear I didn’t want to come here, and I didn’t want to know what was in it.”
Rhen’s gaze dropped to the folded paper shaking in his hand.
The wax seal had been broken.
“Then why did you read it?”
The messenger froze.
His throat moved around the lie he had nearly attempted.
“I was frightened.”
“Curiosity usually arrives before regret.”
The man extended the letter through the iron bars with a trembling hand.
Rhen did not take it immediately. He allowed the silence to expand until the messenger’s pupils widened and his breathing became ragged.
“You thought this was merely a house,” Rhen said quietly. “You thought you could deliver a message, satisfy your curiosity, and walk away with your memory intact.”
“I didn’t know what this place was.”
“No,” Rhen agreed. “You didn’t.”
He took the letter and broke what remained of the damaged seal.
His eyes moved quickly over the page. Whatever he read did not change his expression, but something tightened behind his silver gaze.
Rhen folded the paper once and crumpled it in his fist without tearing it.
The messenger stared at him.
“What did it say?”
Rhen lifted his eyes.
“You’re going to forget you ever asked.”
Chapter 19
The messenger’s mouth opened on a shaking breath, but Rhen gave his confusion no time to become a coherent thought.
He reached through the bars and pressed two fingers against the man’s temple.
Rhen’s voice lowered as the compulsion entered the messenger’s mind with quiet, invasive precision.
“You drank too much whiskey and wandered farther than you intended. You lost consciousness before reaching the end of the private road, and you never saw the gate or anyone beyond it.”
The man blinked repeatedly as the command settled.
His eyes gradually lost their focus, and the fear in his expression gave way to baffled exhaustion.
Rhen pushed farther.
He erased the route, the stronghold, the guards, and the silver-eyed male standing before him. The memory disappeared without light or spectacle, stripped away with the same ruthless efficiency Rhen brought to every task.
When he removed his hand, the messenger’s knees folded.
