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Bryce obeyed, batting her eyelashes. “About what?”
“About you giving me Luna’s Horn.”
77
Bryce knew there was little chance of this ending well.
But if Jesiba had seen her messages, maybe it wouldn’t be in vain. Maybe everyone would know what had happened to her. Maybe they could save the books, if the protective spells on them held out against an Archangel’s wrath. Even if the gallery’s enchantments had not.
Bryce said smoothly to Micah, “I have no idea where the Horn is.”
His smile didn’t waver. “Try again.”
“I have no idea where the Horn is, Governor?”
He braced his powerful forearms on the table. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“No, but you’re going to tell me anyway?” Her heart raced and raced.
Micah chuckled. “I think you figured it out. Likely at the same moment I did a few days ago.”
“I’m flattered you think I’m that smart.”
“Not you.” Another cold laugh. “Danika Fendyr was the smart one. She stole the Horn from the temple, and you knew her well enough to finally realize what she did with it.”
“Why would Danika have ever wanted the Horn?” Bryce asked innocently. “It’s broken.”
“It was cleaved. And I’m guessing you already learned what could repair it at last.” Her heart thundered as Micah growled, “Synth.”
She got to her feet, her knees shaking only slightly. “Governor or not, this is private property. If you want to burn me at the stake with all these books, you’ll need a warrant.”
Bryce reached the steps. Syrinx and Lehabah hadn’t moved, though.
“Hand over the Horn.”
“I told you, I don’t know where it is.”
She put one foot on the steps, and then Micah was there, his hand at the collar of her shirt. He hissed, “Do not lie.”
Hunt staggered all of one step down the stairs before Sandriel stopped him, her wind shoving him back against the wall. It snaked down his throat, clamping on to his vocal cords. Rendering him silent to watch what unfolded on the screens.
Micah growled in Bryce’s ear, more animal than angel, “Do you want to know how I figured it out?”
She trembled as the Governor ran a possessive hand down the curve of her spine.
Hunt saw red at that touch, the entitlement in it, the sheer dread that widened her eyes.
Bryce wasn’t stupid enough to try to run as Micah ran his fingers back up her spine, intent in every stroke.
Hunt’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his breath coming out in great, bellowing pants. He’d kill him. He’d find a way to get free of Sandriel, and fucking kill Micah for that touch—
Micah trailed his fingers over the delicate chain of her necklace. A new one, Hunt realized.
Micah purred, unaware of the camera mere feet away, “I saw the footage of you in the Comitium lobby. You gave your Archesian amulet to Sandriel. And she destroyed it.” His broad hand clamped around her neck, and Bryce squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s how I realized. How you realized the truth, too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bryce whispered.
Micah’s hand tightened, and it might as well have been his hand on Hunt’s throat for all the difficulty he had breathing. “For three years, you wore that amulet. Every single day, every single hour. Danika knew that. Knew you were without ambition, too, and would never have the drive to leave this job. And thus never take off the amulet.”
