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Amaya, on the other hand, was a whole different story.
“I believe that might also be correct.” The amusement got stronger. “You will never guess their identity, Risa, but you are most welcome to try for as long as you like. However, it will not get us that key back.”
“Is it even possible to get the key back, given what happened to the first one?”
“The difference that time and this,” he said, “is that it wasn’t only the key stolen, but rather a whole bunch of weapons in which the key is just one. Our thief has not the capability to find it himself and will need our help.”
Relief slipped through me. We may have momentarily lost the key, but it still was within the realms of possibility that it could be retrieved. That was something, at least.
“Our help, or yours? You can sense the key when you’re close, can’t you?”
“Yes, but I need you to pin down its location. Which is why I suggest an agreement would be in order—”
I snorted. “The only agreement you’re going to get from me is one at the end of a sword.”
He tsked again. “Now, let’s not forget Ilianna here. I would hate to have to kill her after all the effort I’ve put into snatching and seeding her.”
Amaya—
Close, she growled. Close.
“What sort of agreement?” I spat. “And why the hell would you even expect me to believe you’d actually uphold your end of it?”
“I don’t expect trust,” he said. “But I do expect that you’ll remember I hold your friend’s life in my hands and that you’ll control not only your own need to kill me, but that of your reaper’s.”
“In exchange for what?” I spat.
“In exchange for the key, of course. What else matters?”
Indeed, what else did? For him, my father, the Raziq, and even Azriel, there was nothing else. And if Lucian thought I could control the actions of any of them, then he was seriously insane.
“I can speak only for myself and Azriel, but we both know there are other players in the mix who want the key just as much as you.”
Ready soon, Amaya said.
Anger—and the need to kill, to rent and tear—surged, and I could almost taste his death on my tongue. And I knew that this time, it wasn’t Amaya’s need, but my own. I wanted his blood on my hands, wanted to feel his life slipping away, wanted to watch the realization of defeat dawn in his eyes.
“With the keys in my possession, neither your father nor the Raziq will be a problem,” he said. “Because they will not move against me until they are sure of the keys’ location.”
I pushed to my feet but made no other move to give away my readiness to react the minute I got the all clear from both Amaya and Uncle Quinn. God, please, let him contact me soon.
“You’re overconfident, Lucian, and that’s never a good thing.”
“I have lived many lives in this world in that state, and I have always surpassed my own expectations.” He glanced at his watch again. “And now, I believe, a phone call is required.”
Amaya!
Through, she screamed back. Attack!
At the same time, Uncle Quinn’s lilting tones said, We have her. She’s safe and well.
>Ground, not floor, not concrete. Wherever the hell we were, it wasn’t back at his apartment, as I’d half expected.
He threw me off, then scrambled to his feet. “What the fuck are you playing—”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I just attacked. Amaya was little more than a blur of my hands, and her steel spat flames that sprayed all around us. Lucian swore and parried every blow with his long knife, retreating slowly but surely, his expression intent but not unduly worried.
When energy surged around me, I realized why. By reacting without thinking, I’d very neatly stepped into his trap.
