Holding it up to the light, he examined the contents, swirling the pale liquid within before flicking droplets onto the base of the statue.
“What’s he going to do now? Rape the statue?” She clenched her hands into the damp earth, soil packing beneath her nails.
Cassidy’s grip tightened around her wrist, but she said nothing.
They watched as Caelith stepped back, studying where the droplets had fallen.
“I wonder what he’s doing.”
Emmaline’s glare darkened. “Nothing good. We’ll need to check it before we leave.”
“How long do you think he’ll stay?”
“Not long. He has drinks with a group of Lords every Wednesday.” She looked at her speak-easy, reading the time. “If he doesn’t leave soon, he’ll be late. He’d usually already be on his way.”
At least something from… before…was proving useful. She knew exactly where the sick bastard would be every day of the week.
Cassidy nodded, eyes still trained on the residence. “Look—there’s the driver or a servant. Back already.”
Emmaline’s stomach clenched.
“That’s D...” The words catching in her throat.
“Huh?” Cassidy turned, brow furrowed.
She swallowed hard. “It’s… that’s Deyric.”
Cassidy sucked in a quiet breath. Then, without hesitation, she reached over, squeezing Emmaline’s arm. “Oh, hun. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t.
She kept her eyes locked on him as he walked back to the glider, a small brown bag in hand. He passed it to Caelith, then pulled open the door, waiting as the Lord slipped inside.
Then, he moved toward the driver’s side, but he didn’t climb in. He froze, nostrils flaring.
Emmaline bit her lip, watching as he scanned the gardens, sweeping across the foliage.
“Lyra’s tits, can he smell you?” Cassidy hissed, yanking Emmaline onto her belly. “I thought the bond was broken.”
Emmaline pressed her chin into the earth, grinding her teeth. “It is. Thanks for the reminder.”
From their hidden vantage point, she saw Deyric’s brow furrow, his lips parting as if something wasn’t adding up. He inhaled again, deeper this time, his head tilting ever so slightly. Then—just for a second—his attention focused on their exact hiding spot.
Emmaline’s breath stalled in her throat.
And then, with a small shake of his head, he climbed into the front of the carriage, closing the door behind him.
Watching the glider rumble away down the cobbled drive, Emmaline and Cassidy slowly rose from the ground.
“Here.” Emmaline brushed dirt from her arms, then pulled the charm from her pocket. “We shouldn’t waste any more time.” The golden pendant caught the light, gleaming against the deep green of the surrounding leaves.
“Here we go.” Cassidy took it with a steadying inhale and raised it in front of her. “A Terrible Lord did this magic.” Her voice was hushed as the charm pulsed once before falling still.
Narrowing her eyes, Emmaline focused on the residual traces of magic now visible before her. The faint yellow glow—her own—began to shift, warping like ink bleeding into water, darkening into a sour green shade. Then, as the illusion locked into place, the shadow of a plimrat flickered into existence, scampering across the base of the statue before vanishing into nothing.
“Did it work?” Cassidy lowered the charm.
“Yes.” A thrill of triumph shot through her veins. “One more time, and there will be ample evidence that Caelith killed Lady Allistair.” Emmaline reached for the charm, her fingers lingering against the warm gold as she took it back.
