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“I know, it’s not her versus me,” Saga said dismissively. “Hugh’s a prick, and some part of me wishes I could just throw him to Iona like a steak to devour, because frankly he probably deserves it, but that’s just not me.”

“Precisely.” Avery took Saga’s hands, which had been trying to gesture so wildly they could wave away any emotion that came near her. “Which, conveniently, is the point I was about to make. I meant it when I told you that you were remarkable on that first case.”

Hesitantly, Saga met her eyes.

“And while you are objectively, without question, one of the most beautiful people I have ever met—do not roll your eyes at me, Saga Trygg, I do not flatter, you know that.”

Saga fought a smile and rocked on her heels, fidgeting whichever way she could to make this moment a little less vulnerable.

But Avery wasn’t going to take the escape this time. “Arresting as you are, beauty will never be what makes you stand out.”

Saga’s fidgeting stilled. She was curious and perhaps a little confused, but her attention returned fully to Avery.

“Nature is rather liberal with its application of beauty in this world and the next. With casual frequency, it creates the most breathtaking sights, but I cannot name a time it has ever crafted mercy. In the short time I have known you, you have shown me again and again what it means to be kind. It made me want to befriend you. It is one of many reasons we work well together. It makes me want to be better. You make me want to be better. And if it is not too bold to say, I believe your mother, were she able to see you for who you are, would be proud of who you have become.”

There was no scientific study, to Avery’s knowledge, that quantified how many sincere compliments the average human being is able to sustain hearing before deflecting or shutting down. But for Saga Trygg, this appeared to be her limit. This close there was the faintest of rosiness in her cheeks, and her eyes looked suspiciously like they might shed tears if she didn’t change the subject immediately.

“Let’s get that tea.”

Chapter 45 Saga

It was nine sharp in the morning. The shadows were long across Hyde Park, but the east-facing windows of Reprise still soaked in the sun’s rays. It created an illusion of warmth across the cold marble floor as it caught the shimmer of rose gold strains in the pattern.

There was something that had always seemed both feminine and luxe to Saga about the office. She knew it was by design. She also had to imagine most of Iona’s clients identified as women. Everything about her branding of the office and the way she conducted herself was part of a carefully crafted image she was selling. She was a woman’s woman, the high-powered best friend you always dreamed of having. She made you feel beautiful and wanted.

You wanted to be wanted by her and simultaneously wanted to be her.

Perhaps this was why Saga had borrowed the suit from Darcy once more. It had not been enough to protect her heart from Hugh that night, but here it would do just fine.

Saga clacked her nails on the receptionist’s desk. They were longer than she was used to, and stiletto shape; they reminded her of claws. She hoped her coiffed appearance and a broad smile would conceal the way her heart was pounding in her chest. “Saga Trygg. I have an appointment.”

The brunette smiled up at her, but Saga pointedly avoided eye contact. She knew better. She had one goal in mind today, and she was not going to risk being upsold on any additions. “Of course, Miss Trygg, she told me to send you back to her right away.”

Of course she did. Saga ignored the feeling of entering the gauntlet as she made her way back to Iona’s office, focusing on the way her heels clicked against the marble. Iona had been waiting for this moment. She had been biding her time. Saga was counting on that.

The door opened for her—a nice albeit dramatic touch, but that appeared to be Iona’s general method of operating.

“Saga Trygg,” the siren’s melody greeted her. “I cannot tell you how pleased I was to see your name in my appointment book.”

Saga clasped her hands behind her back and proceeded to dig the points of the fake nails into her palm. The pain would keep her focused. It would keep her present. If she let herself go numb, this gamble would be all for naught. “The high road, as I am sure you are well aware, will only get someone so far.”

“A tragic truth,” Iona agreed. “But that is where I come in, darling.” The iele’s eyes were on her, but Saga knew better than to meet them. It was a hungry stare, the sort that left one feeling unbearably naked. “Has he done something else?”

“Announced his wedding,” Saga replied, careful to not be too quick to give herself away but speak just enough that the woman’s hunger was satisfied. “He sent me a save-the-date. I’m sure it won’t surprise you to learn it’s at the same church, and nearly the same date our wedding was meant to be.”

“Bastard,” Iona scoffed. The melody was gone. She did not need to keep selling. “And you have come to me to make it right?”

“No,” Saga answered. “I will never be using your services. I came to you for something else entirely.”

There was a moment of hesitation. “I beg your pardon?”

Saga could feel the nails biting deeper into the flesh below her thumb. Everything depended on this moment. Avery’s safety and any future she would have rested on this. She could not hesitate. She could not be weak. She had to be firm and decisive and bold. Saga raised her eyes to meet Iona’s. She had to make it feel like a challenge. “I know you’re the one who gave Roxanne the Devil’s Mirror.”

She noticed the faintest tightening of the neck muscles around Iona’s jaw. “Do you?”

“You were at Karnaby House that day. You even spoke to me. Coincidentally, Roxanne Egan was also there. I know you were there to give her that mirror, and worse than that, you knew what it actually was. It’s funny how, when tipping her off to what happened to her mother, you neglected to mention to her that it was you who gave the sentinels the anonymous tip that led to her arrest.”

“That’s a lot of accusations without evidence to support it.” The melody was back. She was feeling threatened. “But if you could prove it, you wouldn’t be here alone.”