Page 169 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Did you?” he challenged, one brow lifting. I was about to argue, but something in his arrogance made me pause. He jerked his chin toward the armoire against the far wall.

“Impossible.”

“You’ll find that’s my specialty, darling.”

With a patronizing wave of his hand, I huffed and crossed the room, threw open the doors, and froze.

“Impossible,” I breathed again. Because there, hanging in the wardrobe, was an elegant sweep of beaded blue fabric. “How?”

“As I said. Now, move with haste or my previous offer stands.”

I stared at him for a long moment, then blinked his threads into existence and studied the way they moved. Moros’ thread was, in fact, a livid red pulled taut—his brother was the one expecting my presence. Marlana’s was almost… quizzical. Curious. Their relationship apparently wasn’t nearly as strained. His crown and third-eye chakra threads burned vibrant, but his throat…

Gods, for a man who loved to hear himself talk, there was a black collar around his neck much like my own. That hadn’t always been there. I’d only noticed interference in his energy a few times back at Mags’—first when he arrived after taking a blade to the chest, muscles still stiff allegedly from battle.

“Why?” I finally asked when his eyes narrowed subtly, studying me right back.

“Because making people—particularly pretty women—feel minuscule is his specialty.”

“No. Why are you demanding I attend? You’ve kept me locked away up here this long. Why now?”

“Fiona,” he breathed. “You helped Fi, a soul to whom you owe nothing.”

“You didn’t exactly give me the impression I had a choice in the matter.”

“It went beyond that. You were prepared to concoct a story—or push me out of the decision altogether—risks be damned.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but if you turned up dead, I wouldn’t exactly mourn.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw, his hands sliding into his pockets before he pressed, “And if Fi had approached you alone?”

“The result would’ve been much the same, though infinitely more discreet.”

Something sparked in his dark eyes, though the rest of him remained impassive. “You’ve just proved my point.”

“She was a woman in need, at the mercy of a man’s cruelty. This world has made it an unfortunate necessity that girls stick together.”

He snorted, the sound far too good-natured for the way my nails dug into my palms, wishing they were digging into his face instead.

“I didn’t say I was particularly concerned with your reasoning, did I?” When I didn’t respond, he added, “The women in that bath hall are on a short list of people in whom I can confide. I would like to add you to it.”

A laugh cracked out of me, sharp as a whip. “In what universe would I ever desire the confidence of a monster who preyed upon my sisters?”

Gods, the man was eerie in his ability to withstand absolute silence.

He just… stood there. Staring. As though he batted my fate between his hands like a cat with a spider and didn’t care how it ended.

“Men have a knack for speaking freely when liquor is plentiful and a beautiful woman deigns to pay them attention. I would think you, of all people, understand the power I’m handing you by parading you on my arm tonight.”

“Your riddles make me violent.”

“It’s always the pretty ones,” he drawled, lip twitching.

I narrowed my eyes and sucked down a steadying breath. I had a plan. I only had to stick to it, and that meant staying beneath notice. “I’ve made a decent effort not to be seen in this gilded prison. You jeopardize that for… what, exactly?”

“So you might put your unique skills to use for once. Something is stirring in our ranks, and I would like your assistance understanding what—and why.”

“So… you think I can be your spy?”