“Oh, I almost forgot!” I gasped, ignoring his snide comment. “Zhara let slip that the Order believes the Heir is a woman.”
He looked momentarily troubled by this information, and then offered me a pensive nod. “Strange…” He yawned. “I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep. Nursing you back to health is exhausting work, as it turns out.”
As I readied myself for sleep, it hit me. In all the chaos of the party and under the influence of the drugged wine, I’d completely forgotten about the lock of hair I was supposed to retrieve for the stupid sprite that lived in the Book.
“Bring me a lock plucked from the Darkseer’s head. Or don’t bother coming back at all.”
For some reason, the idea of outright asking Casimir for a lock of hair bothered me. I imagined his lips twisting into an unbearably smug expression the moment I told him whose hair the Book wanted.
And… what if he refused, or wanted to barter for it? Or worse, force me into another bargain? I turned the dilemma over in my mind until the light slanting through the small windows became awash with ochre tones, signaling the early onset of sunset.
Asking Casimir was too much of a risk, I decided. I’d wait until he dozed off, and then I’d take what I needed.
20
Iawoke in darkness. Night cloaked the loft like a black curtain, the interior lit only by a thin strip of string lights along the far side of the kitchen wall. Stealthy as a cat, I crept down the ladder to the main floor, where Casimir lay motionless on the couch, one arm flung gracefully above his head. By now, he’d seen me unconscious several times, but this was the first time I’d ever seen him so vulnerable.
My eyes darted to the kitchen, where remnants of celery, kale, and other greens lay strewn across the marble countertop. Something in my chest surged at the sight of it, at the evidence of his efforts to help me recover from the poison. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of me like that.
He looked so at peace, his face so unmarred by worry, that I was unable to do anything but stare at him for several moments. The lambent glow from a kitchen lamp cast half of his face in shadow, accentuating his dark lashes. My eyes traced his supple lips, the smooth plane of his nose, and the curls that fell all around him in a crown of delicate disarray.
This was my chance. As quietly as I could, I unsheathed the daggerCasimir had left lying on a side table, my eyes glued to his face, scanning for any signs of disturbance. He remained as peaceful and unconscious as ever. The onyx blade had serrated teeth and felt surprisingly light beneath my fingers.
One lock of hair was all I needed.He’ll never even notice it’s gone, I thought. Lifting a single curl with a feather-light touch, I lowered the blade?—
Hard fingers seized my wrist and abruptly twisted me around.
Yelping in surprise, I lost my footing and fell backwards, landing hard against Casimir’s chest as my dagger clattered to the floor. He grunted at the impact of my elbow between his ribs, but the pain did not stop him from snaking a hand around my throat, the other clasped around both wrists, caging me against his chest. I gasped, straining against his punishing hold.
“Do you mean to slit my throat while I sleep, Farrow?” he growled into my ear.
“N-no!” I rasped. The shock of being caught, in tandem with the sudden proximity to Casimir—he’dpulled me on top of him—had my blood pounding in my ears. We were pressed so close he could probably feel my heart thundering wildly beneath my ribs. Shit, this was going to be hard to explain. I couldn’t think properly with the feel of his body pressed against mine, his heat blazing into my skin at each point of contact. Sweat broke out along my arms and chest as I squinted into the darkness.
“Of all the ways you could’ve repaid me,” he said, his voice rough in my ear. “But this? Even for you, Farrow?—”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” I interrupted breathlessly. “TheBook of Erebosasked me for a lock of your hair. It said it wouldn’t help me unless I delivered it.”
He arched his brow. “So you meant to steal it while I slept?”
Abruptly, he shoved me off of him. I staggered back to standing, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process. He sat up and leaned against the cushions, his eyes narrowing on my exposed shoulder where the strap of my dress had slipped down. In the aftermath, my loud, uneven breaths filled the room, and a dull heat crept up my neck. I hastily tugged the strap back into place, but my heart continued to race.
Under Casimir’s unwavering glare, I felt the first tendrils of fear trailing up my spine. I was alone with the Darkseer. He could end me, right here, right now. And why wouldn’t he, if he truly believed I’d meant to kill him in his sleep?
After a stretch of uncomfortable silence, Casimir spoke. “Why not just ask me? I would’ve given you my hair willingly.”
I didn’t see the point in lying. “I thought you’d say no,” I said flatly. “Or make me trade you for it.”
Casimir gave a heavy sigh and held out his hand.
I eyed his open palm warily.
He rolled his eyes at my suspicion. “The dagger, Farrow.”
Still, I didn’t move. “Why do you want it?”
Casimir shot me an exasperated look. “To cut your throat, of course,” he deadpanned.
Scowling, I grabbed the knife off the floor and handed it to him. I watched with raised brows as he lifted the blade to his head and sheared off a lock of hair before offering it to me.