Embry forced herself to look away, toward Daddy’s big house and beyond to the wonderful landscaping—which, of course, was courtesy of Rye. She knew that if she turned back to watch him, she’d hope to see evidence of the same feelings in him.
Maybe that he’d take an obvious breath to steady himself.
Or perhaps she’d glance back to see him staring after her with the same intense expression he’d worn while artfully arranging her for her homecoming court portrait before everything went so wrong.
Embry slowed but didn’t dare turn. “Knighton, you coming? Daddy’s espresso isn’t going to make or drink itself.”
In answer, she heard footsteps—quick and fast, jogging up the drive. Then there was a hand wrapped around one of her swinging wrists and then the other. Rye’s gentle grip all but stopped her procession toward the house.
“Hey, Em—”
She looked up at him, and Rye paused the second their eyes met. He blinked and pressed on. “There’s something I need to—”
Rye was cut off again—this time not by anything Embry did, but by the blare of an alarm.
“Did you shut the gate?” Embry asked, trying to see for herself and failing because Rye’s broad form blocked her view.
“Of course I shut the gate,” Rye answered as they both wheeled around to put eyes on it. “And that’s the alarm for the wards, not the—”
The gate was shut. But the wardsweretripped.
Because someone was standing there beyond the drive, one arm thrust through the iron fence to activate the wards and set off the alarm.
Alistair Elton-Bentley.
Tall, dark, and handsome, in a sweater that cost more than a designer handbag and “sweatpants” that were clearly cashmere. The breeze ruffled his brown hair as he drew back his arm and gripped the gate. A chauffeured black town car idled behind him, one door ajar.
Embry blinked, uncertain and frozen, her wrists still in Rye’s embrace.
“Elton-Bentley, you have a lot of nerve showing up here,” Rye shouted at him, tone suddenly diamond hard, even as his touch remained tender on Embry’s skin.
“I know,” Alistair replied as his striking hazel eyes met Embry’sbeyond the iron. “Embry, I’m here to say I’m immensely sorry I implicated you in Oakley’s murder.”
Embry opened her mouth. Shut it. Didn’t know what to say to that.
But Rye and his anger certainly did.
“You’re going to have to do a lot better thansorryif you want to—”
“I know. Which is why I’m here to tell you how to find Balthazar and clear Embry’s name.”
CHAPTER 39
DIVINATION
“BEFORE YOU SHARE WHATEVER STATEMENT YOU CLEARLY HAVEplanned, I need to understand why I should believe a single word you’re about to say,” Lazarus told Alistair when he settled into a chair across the table from him in the formal dining room.
The diviner was flanked on either side by his mothers. Embry stood at Daddy’s back, too anxious to sit. Rye leaned against the wall, arms crossed, espresso in hand, and a frown dominating his brood-friendly face. “Yourincorrectdivination has done considerable damage to my daughter, who you once called a friend.”
“I’dstillcall her my friend if she’ll have me,” the diviner replied, eyes on Lazarus but words meant for Embry.
“That depends on what you say in the next few minutes, Alistair,” Embry answered, as coolly as possible. She crossed her arms over her chest, the heart beneath it in utter turmoil, tussling between Alistair’s clear betrayal and their three years of history. But she was Lazarus Woodcross’s daughter, and didn’t show it, standing as tall as she could in head-to-toe spandex.
“That’s more than fair, Embry,” Alistair started, nodding at her, before shoving his rich walnut curls off his forehead, tenting his hands upon propped-up elbows, and facing down the inquisitive glare of Lazarus. “Sir, you are spot-on—my divination was incorrect. More than that, it was false. A fact I didn’t realize until I’d left the grounds of Raven’s Head and retired to my parents’ estatein Vermont. When I arrived there, it became clear that something had corrupted my vision on campus.”
Daddy didn’t give an inch. “When you sayit became clearwhat do you mean?”
“My mothers asked me to share the vision I’d had on campus where I’d seen Embry with Oakley’s body on the football field.” Both women—Kimberly and Natasha—nodded. “Normally, shared recall is something we can manage easily, especially within a year of the initial vision.”
