“You’re good at this,” Kazia says. “Have you done it before?”
Something metallic clicks, and Whisper opens the door. “A few times. I’ll go first. Light, Lucien?”
Unraveling a skein of magic, Lucien sends a small flame overhead. It precedes Whisper into the room.
“All clear,” Whisper says a moment later.
The hidden study is nothing like the chaotic outer parlor. The room is tidy and functional. A writing desk and a bookshelf take up most of the space, all dressed in House Dire’s silver and purple, but without the customary gargoyles and tapestries.
Scalestone tugs at Lucien’s awareness. Not as strongly as last time—he may be getting used to the substance, which is a relief.
He doesn’t need to sense it now. The phylactery sits out in the open, on the empty top shelf. The scalestone stopper glitters in the firelight, and the glass jar gleams beneath layers of dust. Its contents are bright red, as if fresh from the vein.
Kazia stops at the desk. “It’s actually here. I haven’t seen it in years.”
Lucien stays close, but gives him space. “You were right. It was here.”
Kazia takes another step, then stops again. “What if breaking it doesn’t work?”
“It worked for mine,” Whisper says quietly. He shrugs when Kazia whips around. “Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you later. But I know what you’re feeling right now. It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
Kazia looks away. “I just need to know if it’ll work. Or what if it’s trapped?”
It’s good Kazia is looking away. He wouldn’t like the soft sympathy in Whisper’s expression.
“It isn’t trapped,” Whisper says. “Other enchantments can interfere with the phylactery spell. Even a concealment charm could ruin it.”
When Kazia doesn’t move, Lucien loops an arm around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. His hair still smells good. “I don’t want to rush you, but I kind of need to rush you.”
“Asshole.” Kazia leans into Lucien, then pulls away.
“Cannotwaitto tell Julien,” Whisper mutters behind them.
Lucien doesn’t care what Julien thinks. All he cares about is Kazia, lifting the bottle from the shelf. And the feeling Lucien can’t shake.
That this is too easy.
Kazia meets Lucien’s eyes and flings the phylactery against the wall.
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kazia
Glass shatters around a splash of red. Before the blood can drip down the wall, it crumbles into silvery dust. The silence crashes louder than the glass.
Kazia’s heart rings like a bell against his ribs. His eyes sting. “I don’t feel anything. Am I supposed to feel something?”
“Mine didn’t feel how I expected it either,” Whisper says. “It was like nothing happened, except everything had.”
Kazia flinches. He’s only met one other person with a phylactery before. The Hound who attacked Daromir last year. Given the weird name and the lockpicking, Kazia can put the pieces together.
Maybe that’s why Whisper can talk about it so calmly. Part of Kazia wants to ask what it was like for Whisper to be controlled, what it’s like to be free.
But now’s not the time. Kazia pulls himself together. “Well, that’s over with. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Lucien grins. “Good idea, before Salarin loses her mind waiting.”
