Devereaux gave a long-suffering sigh. “We cannot act until we have more information about the Keeper’s Heir. Once we uncover their identity, you will have plenty to do, believe me.”
I wished I could see their faces to gauge their reactions, but I couldn’t risk moving, or else they might discover me.
Evren swiveled in his chair, presumably to look at Devereaux. “Do you mean it?” he mocked.
Devereaux chuckled. “I’ll need your special talents to extract valuable information,” he said.
“And after? Can we go back to Ethervale?”
“We must complete the ritual first,” he intoned. “We must time everything right, but yes, returning has always been the plan.”
“What about Wrayburn?” Evren asked suddenly, his tone menacing. “From what I saw at the Tusk, he’s going to be a problem.”
“Let me worry about Wrayburn,” said Devereauxdismissively. “I’ve observed him for many years. I know how to bring him to heel. The trick with him is to hit him where it hurts.”
“...And I assume you know how to do that?” Evren asked.
Devereaux sighed heavily, as if Evren was being especially thick. “The Farrow girl, of course. The way he came to her rescue in the Tusk…You must have noticed how furious he was when he found her at our table.”
“Ah,” Evren murmured. “But that’s just Wrayburn for you. Always had a bleeding heart.”
Devereaux cut in sharply, “No, this was different. Wrayburn is not the sort to intervene for just anyone.”
“I can’t see why he’d bother with her,” grumbled Evren.
A hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach. They were talking about using me against Casimir. My legs were beginning to cramp. Carefully, I shifted my position, still ensuring my limbs were concealed beneath the panel. I shuddered to think how they might react if they discovered the subject of their conversation was listening mere inches away.
Devereaux hummed in agreement. “I can’t claim to understand his…fascination…” he said, the disdain clear in his voice. “But Wrayburn isn’t as subtle as he believes, nor is he invulnerable.”
Evren snickered. “He might be magically powerful, but his heart is weak, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
The pair of them laughed then, and I ground my teeth together. They were laughing at Casimir, casually discussing the idea of using me as leverage against him. But the whole notion was absurd. Casimir hardly knew me. Surely, they were overstating the likelihood of his coming to my defense.
“She’s not horrible to look at, I suppose,” Evren conceded. He paused, and then added, “Perhaps I can have her, after she’s fulfilled her purpose.”
Bile rose at the back of my throat.
Devereaux had paced far enough away that I could just make out his pale features, and I was relieved to see he appeared amused, but not indulgent. “You already have a pet to play with, Evren,” he reminded him gently.
Evren groaned. “But I’m bored with Sinclair,” he whined.
“Everyone bores you, Evren.”
“That’s not true. I courted Isolde for months! That’s practically a matrimonial level of commitment.”
“Unsuccessfully, as I recall,” Devereaux smirked, and I imagined Evren’s answering scowl. “You won’t be saddled with Sinclair’s presence much longer, in any case. Most mortals don’t survive the ritual.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins.Most mortals don’t survive?
So, that night in the Tusk when August had called my blood unworthy, he had been trying to spare me in the only way he could—under the guise of indifference and prejudice. But that also meant?—
August was going to die.
Panic seeped into the edges of my mind, my breathing becoming ragged and uneven.Breathe, Arden.I forced myself to focus on the rest of their conversation.
“So can I have her, when it’s done?” Evren prompted. “I want the chance to discover a crack in her shields.”