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“For what?”
“Clare has generously agreed to help me find evidence about where Basem’s magical artifacts were being delivered to,” Dozan said, steepling his fingers.
“What does it matter?” she asked.
“Who can afford Tendrille steel with illegal magical artifacts embedded in them?” Dozan asked.
Kerrigan hadn’t been thinking about Basem Nix at all. She had been so worried about so many other things. THe question of who had the kind of money to throw around on that had never occurred to her. “Someone rich.”
“Exactly. There aren’t that many people in the city who could afford it, which narrows it down immensely. And with that kind of wealth, who would you guess was working with Basem before his death?”
“Lorian Van Horn,” Clare grumbled.
Kerrigan’s eyes rounded. “Seriously?”
“It appears Venatrix tribe is arming themselves with illegal objects. Think that should be enough to point the finger his way for Basem’s death?” Dozan asked.
“I don’t know,” Kerrigan said. “Lorian holds immense influence.”
“Which is where you come in.” He waved his hand at Clare. “You’re dismissed.”
Clare looked like she wanted to launch herself at them both. She’d been brought low, and she clearly didn’t like to be beholden to the King of the Wastes.
Dozan stood from his desk, stepping around it to lean back against the front. He crossed his arms and studied her. “I’ve been gathering the intel while you played faerie dragon rider. I have the means, and you inspire the crowds. It’s time to take it public, Kerrigan. Not to the council, but to the people. They deserve to know what’s happening and what the Society is willing to cover up.”
She shook her head. “No way. It’s too soon. It’s not enough proof, and even if I did that, I’d be out of the Society. They’d kick me out.”
“Then, your part is over,” he said easily. “You don’t have to continue on with the Society as one of their puppets. You can change the world from the outside.”
“We’ll have a better chance once I’m in.”
“And then what obstacle will they put in front of you?” Dozan demanded, slamming his hand on the desk. “Then, what will they say to keep you quiet?”
Kerrigan squared her shoulders. “I can’t do it. It isn’t safe.”
“And you think it’s safe for humans and half-Fae to wait until you’re ready?”
“It’s not enough, Dozan,” she snapped, getting heated. “It’s just not enough. Knowing that Lorian hates us and had me arrested wasn’t enough. Accusing him of orchestrating the massacre wasn’t enough. A human admitting that he worked with Basem will mean nothing to them.”
Dozan launched across to her, grasping her shoulders. “Which is why we don’t go to them. We go to the court of public opinion. Turn the tide, princess.”
She felt her magic building inside of her. The first signs of blackout hitting at the edges as the panic rose at the thought of what he was asking. She couldn’t do it. She certainly wasn’t ready. She’d never asked to be a symbol.
“I need to sit down,” she whispered. “Or I’m going to black out.”
She pulled out of his hands and sank into a seat. Her vision dipped around her. Placing her head in her hands, she rocked back and forth, counting backward from a hundred. She had to get this under control, or she wouldn’t be able to do anything.
“What’s wrong?” Dozan asked. He didn’t precisely sound concerned, but it was as close as she’d heard him since she was twelve—when he’d carried her away from a brutal beating and taken care of her. Back before he was King of the Wastes. Back before everything.
“I’m having blackouts. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see if Amond could figure out what’s happening.”
“Your precious Helly can’t figure it out?”
“She said it’s magic sickness.”
Dozan scoffed. “You’re seventeen.”
“That’s what I said. But we don’t know enough about my magic. It seems to be triggered by stress, but I can’t exactly stay away from stress right now. So, I wanted a second opinion.”
“Fine,” Dozan said.
Her head whipped up. “What? Just like that?”
“Did you expect me to say no?”
“I expected to bargain.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to help me take down Lorian Van Horn, yes?”
She nodded. She wanted nothing more.
“Then, you’re going to need to be well enough to do it. I’ll fetch him.”
Kerrigan gaped at him as he disappeared from his office. She’d never in a million years thought that Dozan would just allow her access to his personal healer. Not without a fight and enough sexual innuendo to cloud the room with lust.
A few moments later, Amond stepped into the room. He still wore the red vest and black shirt that marked him as one of Dozan’s men. His light-brown skin was glossy and serene, and he had sharply pointed ears and full lips. She knew that he’d given up his tribe affiliation to work for Dozan, but she never found out why he’d done it. Or where he’d learned this sort of magic.
