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“You should reconsider your contacts in Arras,” Jost says.
I put my hand on his arm as much to calm him as to warn him to be careful what he says to Kincaid.
“Deniel,” Kincaid says, “is going to be seriously punished.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say. “I’d like to know why he did it, but I don’t want him to be hurt.”
“I want him to be hurt,” Jost says.
“You should listen to your friend,” Kincaid says. “It’s not sensible to allow a man like this to prowl around.”
“And”—comes a voice to my left—“it’s important everyone gets the same message.”
I turn to Dante and stare at him. “Which is?”
“You aren’t to be touched.”
I follow Dante’s gaze to see it burning into Kincaid. His words are fiercely protective, and it feels strange. It’s not something I welcome exactly. Jost might treat me like I’m breakable, but his actions are rooted in his loss of Rozenn, something I’m only beginning to understand. Dante barely knows me though. He can’t turn on fatherly emotions like that. I don’t want him to.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Kincaid says from behind me. His voice is low and even, not his usual airy, bouncing tone. “None of my guests are to be touched…”
“We can put him in the cells until—” the guard begins.
But Kincaid waves off the suggestion and gestures for him to be silent by raising his hand merely inches from his face. “I want Adelice to sleep tonight. How can she if definitive action isn’t taken now?”
“I’m fine,” I say, but I know I’ll ask Jost to stay the night. Then I’ll be able to sleep.
“Bring him into the gardens,” Kincaid says, ignoring my input. The guard nods and walks a few steps away to use his complant more quietly.
“And how do you plan to make her feel safe after this?” Dante asks Kincaid, coming into the hall’s light. He’s dressed in a thin tank-style shirt and soft flannel pajama bottoms. His shirt reveals a techprint on his biceps—three braided bands circling his arm.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be pleased,” Kincaid says.
“Your defenses were penetrated. This may not be the only threat. I’d like permission to investigate further.” Dante isn’t asking him.
Kincaid’s jaw twitches, but his mask of authority stays in place. “That won’t be necessary. I assure you that your daughter is my priority. Remember that.”
My eyes fly to Dante. How could he have told Kincaid? Dante claimed it would be a secret until I decided I wanted to share the information, if that day ever came. But Dante looks confused. He has no more idea how Kincaid found out than I do. I consider how quickly security responded to my screams when Deniel attacked me. They couldn’t have heard me unless they were watching me.
Which means it isn’t Dante’s fault that our secret is out. It’s mine.
FIFTEEN
SOMEONE LAYS A THICK FUR COAT OVER my shoulders after Kincaid announces that the punishment will transpire in the garden. I turn, expecting to see Jost behind me, but it’s Jax. I haven’t seen him since our first day here. He doesn’t speak now, but he gives me a resolved nod as he slips to the back of the security team that’s amassing for Kincaid’s verdict. With the lighting system dimmed, the chill outdoors is reminiscent of the Icebox, without the lurking, shifting shadows. There’s no need for me to watch the corners and hidden spaces around the plants and fountain; the monster is in plain sight now, no longer able to hide.
Deniel is dragged across the uneven masonry of the brick path, his knees scraping against the rough surface, but he doesn’t speak or cry out. He keeps his head low, his ink-black hair falling over his eyes. When the guards bring him to Kincaid’s feet, they drop him there and one nudges Deniel’s head up with his knee. I gasp at the sight of the man’s bloodied mouth and crooked nose. It looks like the guards have already put him through some significant punishment before they brought him to Kincaid.
“Who do you work for?” Kincaid asks in a singsongy voice. The amusement in it isn’t lost on me.
Kincaid is enjoying this.
Deniel doesn’t respond to the question. Instead he lolls forward again, his head drooping to his chest. Kincaid snaps his fingers and one of the guards bends forward, taking Deniel’s chin forcefully into his hand and jerking it up.
“I’m waiting.”
“No one.” Deniel’s answer oozes slowly from him, and I notice how swollen his cheekbone is. It balloons out, swallowing the space around his eye and forcing it shut.
“Let’s try that again,” Kincaid says.
