Page 18 of Gold & Shadow

“Thank the gods,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m not even sure I know how. Wait,” I added, sitting up a little straighter. “Is that how you can afford to pay me?”

Orson shrugged. “I am the sole protector of the remaining amulets and the wealth of the bears,” he replied. “I have…means.”

“I should be charging you more,” I grumbled, making Orson laugh again. “And what about the rest of the bears? Surely there was more than just your den.”

“There are others,” Orson confirmed. “I have met a few in my travels through the woods. They know their king by scent.”

“Then why live alone?” I asked, eyes darting to the runic tattoos peeking above his collar. “Why not form a new den?”

“Bears are solitary creatures,” Orson explained, his expression turning sad again. “We live only with our mates and cubs. We onlygather in greater numbers during a Bjørnspeider, when one den has a grievance with another or something threatens all of us.”

“And these disappearances don’t call for a Bjørnspeider?” I asked, fairly certain I had butchered the term. “You haven’t called one?”

“I was very young when I was left alone,” Orson replied, his tone going a bit steely. “By the time I knew enough to call one, we were too dispersed, our numbers too few.”

“Which is why you’ve been searching for them,” I concluded, understanding hitting with a wave of horror. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Orson asked, suddenly looking alert like I had noticed some threat he hadn’t.

“It’s just…” I bit my lip, feeling so devastated for him. “The bears who killed your father. They must have been—”

“My siblings,” Orson cut in, his face grim. “I was the youngest. My mother made me run. When I returned, they were dead, and she was gone.”

Gods, the idea that he had lost his entire family, including his siblings was too much. My heart broke at the idea of losing just one of my sisters, never mind all of them.

“Oh, Orson,” I said, placing my hands over his. His name felt strange to say aloud, and he too looked a little surprised by my use of it. I realized it was the first time I had actually called him by name. “I am sovery sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, cupping my hands in his. He raised them to his mouth and placed a bristly kiss on my knuckles. “I’ve had a long time to grieve for them.”

“That doesn’t make it easier though,” I said, knowing that I couldn’t truly understand his feelings, but trying to imagine how I might feel in his place. “I’m sorry you’ve been so alone.”

His eyes met mine, and something like desire flashed in them. Something warm and hopeful. “I’m not alone now.”

“You’re not,” I said quietly, feeling that fluttering in my heart again as he held my gaze.

Silence stretched between us as loaded as if we had filled the space with words. I took him in, his dark hair falling over his brow and his casual posture one of predatory grace. He watched me like I was his prey, and he wanted to pounce.

Gods, I wanted him to.

“We should plan,” he finally said when it was clear that I wouldn’t break the silence. The reminder that we had work to do jolted me back to my senses. “Tell me more about this Victor Gold so I can best decide how to eviscerate him.”

Chapter 10

The rest of the day passed both inexorably slowly and at lightning speed. Every brush of Orson’s hand or knee against mine sent heat licking up my spine, and his heated glances were barely any better. Between these distractions, we planned a way to use my shadows in case Victor’s henchmen showed up at the cabin, before moving on to discuss logistics of infiltrating hisheadquarters.

“Walk me through the guard rotations again,” Orson said for the seventeenth time, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose in thought.

It was dark out, and several empty cups of cocoa and bowls of stew lay strewn across the coffee table, as well as crumpled-up paper and broken quill nibs. Ink stained Orson’s fingers as he poured over the floorplan I had drawn of Victor’s offices.

“I don’t know all of them,” I said exasperatedly. “Only that he always has two guards positioned here,” I pointed to the doors that opened to Victor’s personal office, “and several on every floor of the building.”

“What does he use all of this space for?” Orson muttered, looking at the sheets of numbered floors. There were three, but I was only really familiar with Victor’s office on the third floor.

“Storage of stolen goods,” I replied, pointing to the second floor, which I knew was something of a warehouse. “If he has other amulets, they’ll be here. Unless he’s already fenced them.”

“And here?” Orson asked, righting his glasses and pointing to the first floor. “This is the front for his operations?”

“An antiques shop,” I confirmed, remembering the stuffy, overly elegant room I always entered first when visiting my employer. It was, admittedly, a brilliant way to hide his stolen goods. Many were kept in plain sight as if legally bought and paid for, and the shop allowed him to flaunt his own preferred extravagance in a wealthy part of town where it wouldn’t seem out of place. “Andtwo townhomes. The residents likely have no idea that Victor is even there.”