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But she didn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m told what the issue is.”
“Why not?”
“This might be a kidnapping for all I know.”
This time, he scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we ever resort to kidnapping, it’s not going to be you.”
Her head tilted, her expression thoughtful. “So, it’s an option for others?”
“No,” he bit out. “The Lyras don’t need to kidnap anyone—and this conversation is getting out of hand.”
Henry took a deep breath, unused to someone so determined to challenge his authority as if it was second nature. The urge to cancel on her thrummed strongly, but the memory of his struggles last night flashed and told him there was no other choice. He was stuck.
“All I asked for was information,” Pearl said, glaring at him. “If you can’t even provide that, and would rather lord it over—”
“We are missing some family jewels.”
She blinked. She waited.
“It has been happening frequently in the last few months and it often happens at night. Nothing works to stop it and we can’t even find the culprit. Is that enough to assure you that we’re not out to kidnap you?”
“Yes. But it’s still not enough for me to analyze the situation.”
“Which is why it’s better to just show it to you.”
To his relief, Pearl didn’t argue anymore, promptly following him as soon as he stepped out of the receiving room. He led her down the halls and watched as she took interest in the paintings of their faces, arranged on the walls by ancestry line.
“What happens if you die? Who takes over the clan?”
“Ryan’s older sister. It would have been my brother, but Gunther didn’t pass the test.”
She made a face at Gunther’s name but immediately schooled it. He glared at her, but she was still too busy looking at the paintings. “Ricci, right? She’s nice.”
Translation:You’re not.
“Nice wouldn’t make a good leader.”
“I agree, but being an asshole also doesn’t cut it.”
This time, she stared at him, her features unreadable. He stared back, wondering if she was indirectly calling him an asshole before he cleared his throat.
“I have no time for games, Miss Sutton.”
“It’s Pearl.”
“I prefer Miss Sutton,” he returned coolly. “Here’s our throne room.”
“Fine, Mr. Lyra, although it would be difficult since there are many Mr. Lyras in your family…holy shit.”
“Language,” he warned, then forgot about it when he noted her stunned expression. That had always been the first reaction whenever anyone new walked into the large hall, stacked with treasure boxes of gold coins and gemstones, all lined up at the sides. Then there were the golden paintings on the wall, the golden sculptures of mythical creatures scattered down the front, and the crowd of chandeliers hanging on the ceiling, crafted from even more precious stones.
Henry waited for her to peek at the treasure boxes, but she amazed him yet again when she went straight for a tall, lithe sculpture.
“Not all Fae look like this,” she mused. He opened his mouth to warn her not to touch, then closed it and watched as her fingers brushed the statue’s chest. The touch was a soft caress, careful and exploring. His chest tightened and annoyance flared.
“What do the others look like?” he found himself asking.
“Muscular. Some are surprisingly angular, and not graceful. But they all have pretty faces, and they all know how to turn on the charm.”
