Page 93 of Reap & Sow

Voices.

She spun to face the door. No. Not now!

Panic kicked her heart into a fury. She rounded the sarcophagus and ducked behind it, knees tucked to her chin. A heartbeat later, the door slammed open. Eda clapped a hand over her mouth. Blood roared in her ears. Shit. It would be obvious that someone had been here—or still was. And she’d nowhere to run.

Silence. Then a voice she despised above all others: “Do not make me drag you out, Miss Shaw. It will be humiliating for you alone.”

He left the gardens. We saw him leave. Eda squeezed her eyes shut. The mantle. The mantle would hide her. Perhaps they’d only spare the place a cursory check. If she just stayed still enough, quiet enough…

Fane sighed. “Seize her.”

Eda’s breath caught. Footsteps echoed around the little chamber. She drew her knife just as shadows fell over her. White and brown robes, the flash of a sword, reaching hands.

She sprang.

Eda caught the nearest hand with her knife and earned a curse in return. No fewer than four men surrounded her, all dressed in cleric’s clothing. All armed. Eda had never seen men of the Faith wielding weapons as soldiers did, but perhaps they were not clerics at all.

She lashed out again at the looming faces. A fist to the stomach doubled her over with pain. Eda coughed in shock.

They hauled her upright, a man on each arm. Another bore a crossbow. He kept her in his sights as they dragged her around the sarcophagus and dumped her before Fane like a sacrificial lamb. On her knees, Eda cursed her wet eyes as she heaved, gripping her aching middle. She made herself glare up at him.

Fane took a moment to focus on her. He blinked. “A clever trick. Did you make that little cape yourself, I wonder? Perhaps you really are a witch.” He gestured, and the men ripped the mantle from her shoulders. Two of them moved to guard the doorway behind Fane, hands upon their concealed knives.

“You’re even more sacrilegious than I thought,” Eda wheezed. “Disturbing a patron saint and dressing paid soldiers as the Faithful? If you weren’t setting monsters on innocent children, I’d be shocked.”

Fane’s smile grew tight. He thumbed at his golden ring. “What a meddlesome little rat you are. Brazen too. You really thought to make deals with men like Severin Lich in an effort to outwit me? An insult, I thought, but he seemed amused by it.”

Eda’s blood ran cold. Lich…and Fane?

No. That doesn’t make any sense. Lich wants the mirror for himself!

“He told you I was looking for the mirror?”

“Just in the nick of time, it seems. You move fast.”

Her mind raced. This meant that Lich had no intention of coming for the Gateway. There was likely no one waiting for Kit at the Knight and Knave. Lich had chosen to warn Fane about Eda’s plan instead, giving the bishop a chance to protect the Gateway. But why?

“Don’t look so confounded, Miss Shaw. You’re not as clever as you suppose.” He crouched and grabbed her roughly by the jaw. Eda huffed in shock, tried to jerk away—the crossbowman poked her in warning. “When your demon returns to you, whore, we will be waiting for him.”

Eda’s heart sank. She remembered now. Mr. Night had offered Fane a great boon if he could kill Kit for him. Think, Eda, think! Lich might be a lost cause, but if she could keep Fane here just a little longer, Tenelle could arrest him still.

“You couldn’t kill him if you tried,” she hissed.

“Oh, I disagree. Even demons fear fiends, I hear, and the beasts answer my command.”

“With power that isn’t yours.” Eda bared her teeth. “You call me a whore, but I bet you’d bend over the instant Mr. Night told you—”

The slap took her breath away. Her cheek seethed with pain, but Eda found herself laughing at him. Guess I hit a nerve.

Fane’s blue eyes were wide and hateful. He raised his hand again.

A clawed hand snared him by the wrist. Fane jerked in shock.

Mr. Night’s eyes were just as she remembered, cold and bright as quicksilver. “Hello again,” the demon crooned, “sweet Eda.”

Twenty-five

There was so much she wanted to say—how could you do this, why, do you feel anything for me at all—but words fled as Mr. Night crouched and touched her drying tears. His fingertips were warm despite his winter-hued appearance.