CHAPTER 7
DAVINA
One month ago
AFTER LEADING ME THROUGH A SERIES OF TORCHLIT CORRIDORS AND DOWN TWO FLIGHTS OF STAIRS, the captain stopped in front of a dark wooden door. Producing a key from one of the many pockets stitched into his pants, he unlocked it, then pushed it open and held it there, waiting for me to walk in first.
I did, every muscle in my body tense as I let my eyes adjust to the dim space.
His study, for the likes of it. Two of the walls were swallowed by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, crammed with books in tight rows and stacks, some placed double-deep to save space.
A large desk sat against the third wall, positioned to face a window that opened to a view of tall, thick trees bordering the surrounding streets, and the ever-looming palace beyond.
Across the street, I spotted two rows of low, wide sandstone buildings, with glassless windows and gauzy curtains that hung still in the absence of wind.
Must be the houses of well-positioned civilians, seeing how close they sat to both the army’s compound and the King’s palace.
Movement at my side caught my attention.
While I’d been focused on the view, the captain had made his way to the desk.
In a show of the psychokinetic ability inked on his forearm, he flicked his fingers in the air, striking a match and floating it to the lamp.
The gaslight ignited in a smooth flare, bathing the room in golden light.
The leather-covered surface of the desk was lined with papers, files, and folders arranged into neat, precise piles.
Quills, ink pots, and stamps were pushed into a straight line against the far wall.
A rug in deep red, ochre, and beige stretched over most of the floor, its intricate pattern faded in places.
Unlike in Ludwig’s office, there were no visitor chairs in the room. Just the one next to the desk. The captain pulled it out and turned it toward the center of the room before gesturing to it.
“Have a seat.”
I didn’t move, watching like a hawk as he leaned against the edge of the desk, casually claiming the room as his domain. My lips pursed. “I’d rather stand, but thank you.”
I pretended I didn’t see the roll of his eyes as I opened my journal and flipped through the pages where I stood.
“So,” my eyes scanned the page until I found the notes I’d taken on the plane, “Kipiramida. Dr. Sircelen owned a house there, right?”
“Correct.”
“And that’s where he was found dead.”
“Hmm hmm.”
My finger travelled over the scribbled lines, stopping where I’d written how that was the first property he had acquired in Kobra, nearly ten years ago. “Then we should see if we can find any leads on where he was keeping all the sap there.”
I looked up to find a smirk on the captain’s face. “See, we’re in agreement, after all.” Oh, this man was going to be the end of my patience. “Every day we delay, we give Kaelthorn’s cell a better chance to catch up.”
My brow knit, anger forgotten at his words. “Kaelthorn’s cell?”
“The Kobrant side of what you call Sapless,” he answered, upper lip curled in disgust.
I ignored the flare of hatred at the mention, filed the name away for later investigation, then glowered at him under lowered brows. “You still could’ve scheduled the transport now, after talking to me.”
“If you are the best centurion the Republic of Widesight had to offer for this, it was safe to assume you’d agree the only logical place to start is where the body was found.”
And again with the damned assumptions.
I turned fully toward him, raising an eyebrow. “And yet a good field agent knows to ask their partners on a joint mission before making decisions.”
The smirk curling his lips had my nails digging into the cover of my journal to quench the urge to throw it at his face.
We held each other’s glares, and an odd feeling slithered from the base of my nape all the way to my toes. It was going to be a pain to have to work with this brooding, cocky asshole. What was worse, he might prove to be a tough rival to outwit.
Not that I’ll back down from a challenge.
I returned my focus to the notes. “He wasn’t known to spend much time there, though.”
Captain Zephyr Kentar let out a sigh and straightened, moving toward the bookshelf on his right.
I watched in silence as he began adjusting books, nudging one slightly inward, then pulling another.
“Silvester Sircelen didn’t spend much time anywhere,” he said, turning again to face me.
“Whatever his work or investigation was, it had him constantly on the move around the kingdom.”
“Because of his fascination with ancient Kobrant history?”
“I assume so. We’ve got no detailed records of his daily routines other than requests for access to old archives and most of his purchases through the years.”
I squinted my eyes. “And do you know what he was doing when he died?”
“Other than being in his house? No.”
Just as I suspected. Great.
“Have you had his body analyzed?”
The captain went preternaturally still, and my stomach flipped. Very slowly, he angled his head, meeting my gaze across the dimly lit room.
“You don’t know?”
Unease curled tight in my stomach. The faint smirk that forever haunted the edges of his mouth was gone, replaced by a flat seriousness that set every instinct on high alert.
“Know what?”
His jaw flexed, and the muscles in this arm ticked as he tensed. Captain Zephyr Kentar’s jaw rolled, and I knew, even before he spoke, that whatever he was going to say next would not be good.
“Sircelen’s body disappeared a few hours after it was found.”
I froze, searching for signs of jest in his features, stomach lurching when I found none.
“Which,” he added, voice low, “is yet another reason why we have to move fast.”
Oh, well.
Just. Great.
Now
My captor turns to look at the truth-teller on his left, who offers a single nod.
I bristled. “What? Did you really think that I pretended not to know? All this time?” I regret rising to it as soon as the words are out.
“Well, I can never be sure with you, can I?” I wish I was free of my restraints, able to do something—anything—other than witness him watching me with that snarky expression and tilted head. “It was written on the file that was left in your room.”
“You mean the same room you stole me from within an hour of me gaining access to it?” I do not even attempt to keep the acid from my voice.
“That was one hour you could have used to read the file.”
Unbelievable.
“I just told you I had been back from three weeks in The Powder for mere hours when I was put on a pod across the sapdamned Prishter Ocean. If not running to read the whole file in the first few minutes I had to myself in almost a month makes me a terrible centurion, then so be it.”
My blood boils when the corner of his mouth ticks up. “A little guilty, are we?”
Son of a—
Breathe.
I let my eyelids fall closed. May sap curse him and everyone he’s ever cared about.
He’s gotten what he wanted from me from the start—a reaction. Both of his companions watch me carefully when I reopen my eyes. My captor’s lopsided, arrogant smirk is still in place, damn him.
Zephyr, one.
He might have won this round, and my fate will be sealed for the whole game . . . but I will not make it easy.
“I have nothing to feel guilty for.”
A snort. “Of course, of course.” Shaking his head, Zephyr muses, “Davina Lachlan does nothing wrong. An example of unwavering loyalty, endless patience and above all, remarkable honesty.” I swallow in an attempt to drown the rage coursing through my veins.
“My apologies, I forgot just for a second there.”
I could give him a list of every shameful reason why his mocking description of my attributes is wrong.
I could bite my tongue strong enough to tear a chunk off and cut his entertainment short right along, and my misery.
I could stand up and fight with bound hands and not a trace of the abilities on my skin until they beat me senseless.
But none of those things would hurt more than the truth.
I did do things wrong.
Things that landed me in here, now. At his mercy.
I lost, and this is my sentence.