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“And what would you have done with that truth, Cam? Run to General Pendergast? I couldn’t risk that.”
“The general doesn’t know Doran is Amhas-draoi?” He stiffened, his gaze drilling right through her.
“If he knew, do you think he’d trust Scathach? Or any Other? We half-breeds walk a dangerous line between acceptance and intolerance. Why do you think we hide what we are? Because to let people like you know the truth about us is asking for trouble.”
“People like me?” His voice dropped, his tone ominous.
“The mortal world—the world of the Duinedon. To you we’re freaks. Monsters. The devil’s spawn.”
“Don’t lump me in with the narrow-minded and superstitious. I’ve been damned open to all you’ve thrown at me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Not you. But the rest of them. It’s only been a few years since they stopped burning witches at the stake. If Doran Buchanan’s found to be one of us, the hunt will begin again, and anyone with Fey blood suspect.”
Cam seemed to be considering her argument. A good step. He hadn’t shoved her out the door, refusing to listen. Perhaps he wasn’t as hardheaded as she thought.
“We’re not a threat to the mortal world,” she continued. “But do you think once we’re exposed, your kind will believe that?”
“You could have told me at the beginning.” He ran a tired hand down his face. Limped to a chair, leaning both hands on the top rail. Slower to recover than she’d expected. Or he’d been hurt worse than she’d known.
She met his stare, refusing to look away as if she were ashamed. “My friends. My family. My very way of life were at stake. They still are. I didn’t trust you.”
His jaw hardened. “You did once.”
She dropped her gaze. “That wasn’t trust. That was sex. And look where it landed us.” She took a shaky breath, faced him again. “No, Cam. I did what I thought best. But Doran’s stronger than I anticipated. Neuvarvaan’s power is enhancing his own. He’s close to mastering Andraste’s sword. Give me time. Two weeks. If we haven’t tracked down Doran by then, you can go to the general. I’ll even go with you.”
He said nothing. The silence spinning out indefinitely until Morgan wanted to scream. Finally he shifted, a grimace washing over his face. Cleared his throat, his words coming slowly as if he’d thought about them a long time. “If I agree, you’ll do things my way. No more lies. No more secrets. I’m in charge. When I say jump, you ask how high? Deal?” He held out a hand.
What would she be giving up by allowing him to call the shots? Or did he expect her to turn down his offer? Not a chance. She met Cam’s stare, ice blue and completely unreadable.
Before she could change her mind, she accepted his hand. Gave it a firm shake. “Deal.”
The corporal—dressed today in the scarlet and white of the Thirty Second—threaded his way through the market crowds, to stand beside Cam’s bench. Never once did he look in Cam’s direction or acknowledge his presence aside from a tipping of his hat. Instead, he chose to watch the traffic beyond the low iron fence. Crowded stalls, shouting vendors with packs slung over their backs, wagons, carts, and drays pushing through the choked streets.
Who would notice two men among so many?
Cam pulled a newspaper from his coat pocket. Flipped it open as if he prepared to read. “I need you, Rastus.” His words came low, but he knew the other man heard him. “I’ll pay. Well.”
Rastus braced himself, hands behind his back, eyes front. The picture of a proper English officer. “I heard you were dead, Colonel. You and the woman.”
“You heard wrong. But that’s why I need you. You’re going to follow Buchanan for me. Find out where he’s gone.”
“I know where he’s gone. London. Alone.”
“Why?” Cam shook out his paper. Turned the page. “What’s in London?”
“Bloody hell if I know,” Rastus groused. “He and I aren’t exactly mates.”
“Follow him. Find him. I want Doran Buchanan, Rastus. I’m going to enjoy putting a bullet in his brain. What do you say?”
Cam had come to Rastus as a last option. The only one he knew with the unmagical ability to ferret out Doran’s hiding place. And already close enough to the Amhas-draoi not to arouse suspicion if he were spotted. If Morgan proved incapable of tracking the bastard, he wanted to have a backup plan in place. It was always well to have two strings to your bow.
He clenched his hands on the edges of his paper until it tore, hating every second he spent in the ex-Serpent’s presence. “You give me Buchanan, you can name your price.”
Rastus rolled forward on the balls of his feet. Cleared his throat. “I don’t come cheap.”
Cam’s lips thinned. “I don’t want cheap. I want good.”
“In that case, why not find him yourself? You was always the best, Sin.”
