Chapter 12 #4
He searched her face. He hadn’t planned on saying so much but the tide-force of her threatened to pull his heart right out of his chest. “I woke. I met you. And I felt like myself again for the first time in Fates only know how long. I thought, maybe for a while, at least for the short time you’re here, I could ignore all of it and just be me. ”
She didn’t answer. He couldn’t blame her. He knew his world was too much to take in.
And he’d laid bare his astounding selfishness—that he wanted how she made him feel, even though she was leaving in a few weeks.
If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to follow the tide-pull of her forever and never leave.
But it wasn’t for him to want that. She had dreams and every right to fulfill them.
He, on the other hand, had no future and no right to hold her back from hers.
Cadenza pulled her hand from his, face unreadable, and rose to her feet. “I need to process this. Can we talk tomorrow night when you…wake up?”
“Of course.” Taran watched her walk away, sure she would choose to go where he couldn’t follow.
The overhead lights buzzed in the silence of the empty showroom.
Canon paced the sales floor, tapping his phone against his leg.
Thinking. Analyzing. He halted by his desk so that if anyone saw the lights on and asked, he could say he’d been working late.
He stared at his phone, thumb hovering over his employer’s number.
Per their agreement, he’d been keeping the man apprised of the Cadenza and Taran situation.
The amount of time they spent together, their apparent growing closeness.
Canon suspected his boss wanted Taran’s heart broken, although he didn’t yet know why.
He’d supplied his info while benefitting from his gift of discernment in the showroom and on the campaign trail, and he had his own reasons for keeping tabs on their relationship, so he didn’t begrudge the time reporting took.
His time and info in exchange for this gift had been a fair trade.
So far. But what he’d overheard tonight?
What he’d overheard was valuable. Too valuable to give up for nothing.
Guilt scratched at his conscience. Was passing the info on to his boss giving it up for nothing? He’d already been paid with this ability to read people’s wants. And aside from all this about a curse, his employer would want to know what that gift told Canon.
He narrowed his eyes. That gift told him that what Taran wanted was Cadenza and freedom.
In that order. If he were in Taran’s place, freedom would be first. Easier to secure Cadenza after gaining freedom, but Taran apparently didn’t understand priorities.
Taran’s need for Cadenza burned hot and new.
Freedom, he wanted, but he wanted it without hope of attaining it.
Canon shook his shoulders out. What Cadenza wanted most was still success in Italy, so he had time to deal with Taran as a rival. In fact, if his boss did want the younger Norroway hurt, Canon’s plans for Cadenza would play right into that, so he was still helping his boss.
Canon resumed pacing. Yes, he’d been paid with the gift to discern a person’s desires, but the information he gained tonight outweighed that gift. They weren’t an even exchange. If his employer didn’t know something about the Norroways as momentous as a curse, then he needed to pay extra to get it.
And if he did already know, Canon needed to figure out what the larger game was.
Because whatever this game was, it was big. Taran had been agitated. Distraught even. In past attempts to glean information, Canon had tried to sneak up on Taran but—
He paused in his thoughts. Sneak? No. That sounded too underhanded. Too nefarious. Canon was trying to keep his end of a deal. Keeping his word was important. Holding up his end of a bargain was honorable. No, not sneaking then. Questing. Questing for information.
Much better.
Every time he’d quested for information, Taran heard him coming.
He had some kind of sense, like a built-in perimeter alarm or something.
But tonight he’d been too upset for that alarm to go off.
When Canon saw first Cadenza, then Taran, storm out of the garage, he’d been able to follow without being noticed.
At one point during their conversation, he thought Taran had heard him, but telling Cadenza his story had kept his attention diverted from the trees where Canon had hidden, listening.
And what a story. Canon chuckled to himself.
Nothing Taran had said rattled him. His own gift proved the existence of things beyond normal explanations.
And Taran had said nothing that the rules of interaction couldn’t explain.
Curses, shifters, Fate. They all worked on a give-and-take basis like “normal” humanity.
Exchanges, deals. Those, Canon understood. Even Fate could be bargained with.
And this information was too valuable not to use as a bargaining chip.
Canon swiped away his employer’s number and called Vasilios instead.