But she was the dove, she reminded herself. Agnes had told her she had it within herself to destroy him.
The Chosen One was younger than she had expected. Much younger, as he was probably close to her age, but for whatever reason, she’d anticipated an older gentleman. And he was handsome, strikingly so, with pitch-black hair and chilling blue eyes. But knowing how evil he was ruined his attractiveness.
“You know my name,” she said carefully. “Perhaps I might know yours as well.”
“You’ve been expecting me?” he asked. He moved farther into the room. It was then that Sabine noticed the pistol in his left hand.
She took a steadying breath. “I knew we would meet one way or another.”
“Spencer Cole, special advisor to the queen, at your service.” He gave her a mocking bow, but never took his eyes off her.
He worked for Queen Victoria. And he’d murdered her generals right under her nose. “Is that how you’ve been able to do it?” she asked. “How you’ve been able to get close to those generals in order to assassinate them?”
His shoulders rose in a shrug. “Working closely with her majesty does have its benefits.”
She wanted to keep him talking, partly because she was curious about him, but more to buy herself time. She had no idea how she was going to stop him. Sabine caught sight of Achilles’ sword just to her right. “Does she know?” Sabine asked.
“Not yet. Though I suppose before the day is through, she will.” He shrugged, with the casual air of someone discussing the weather.
“You’re younger than I expected.” She inched herself so that she was within grabbing distance of the sword.
He smiled with a cruel grin. “My birthday is tomorrow, actually. I’ll be—”
“Twenty-five,” she guessed. So they shared a birthday— the Chosen One and the dove. What other connection did she have with this man?
“How did you know?” he asked.
“It’s mine as well.”
For a moment it seemed as if they were strangers meeting for the first time and exchanging pleasantries, but of course, this was much more than that. Lives depended on the outcome of this meeting. Lives quite precious to her.
“The prophecy states nothing about my sharing a birthday with a guardian.” He tilted his head with curiosity. “Nor do my grandfather’s instructions,” he said.
She wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword. So far, he hadn’t seemed to notice her standing over the weapon. She did her best to lift the sword, but it would not budge. The heavy gold weapon sat firmly against the wood of Max’s desk. She looked up to find him watching her in amusement.
“Even if you could lift that, you can’t hurt me,” he said.
“I never said I was the guardian.” Again, she tried to move the sword, but could not leverage it.
“If not the guardian, who else would you be?” He walked slowly toward her, not in a casual manner, but with the slow, steady gait of predator as it circles its prey.
A chill shivered down her back. She wished Phinneas’s vision had given her clearer instructions on how to destroy this man.
“Not the guardian.” He looked down at his hand, then held it up to show her his ring. “You’re telling the truth. Were you the guardian, this would be glowing red. But we obviously have a connection. A shared destiny,” he said. “And I know you know who that third guardian must be. One of your aunts, but which one?”
“It would seem my destiny is to destroy you,” she said, knowing her words would present no threat.
“You?” He chuckled. “I suppose you fancy yourself the dove, then?” He took several steps toward her, closing the distance. He smiled, but the humor never reached his cold eyes. His right hand snaked around her wrist, holding her in place. “Have you ever really looked at a dove? They’re such delicate, defenseless creatures. Fragile, really.”
He ran the cold metal of his pistol down her cheek, and she willed herself not to move. She refused to show him the fear surging through her.
“I’ve always been fascinated with doves,” he continued. “I’m sure you understand why, given the prophecy. As a boy I studied them. Put them in cages and simply watched them.” His icy eyes bore into her. “There are hundreds of ways to kill a dove once you’ve caught one. I can crush their bones with a single twist of my hands. I’ve ripped off their wings, broken their necks—”
She wrenched free of his hold and moved to the other side of the room. He was worse than she’d imagined. She’d expected the Chosen One to be clever, and while certainly a killer, she’d thought he’d be focused on the fulfillment of the prophecy, not a malevolent man who obviously relished torture. Bile churned through her stomach.
He held his arms open and again came toward her. “Do your worst, dove,” he said. Then he burst into chilling laughter.
Had she been able to lift that sword, she would have had the perfect opportunity to run him through. But she had nothing. “What happens now?” she asked. “You’ve killed seven generals, nine people including Madigan and Phinneas. And no doubt I’ll be next. After I’m dead,” she said, “what will you do?” She had not yet resigned herself to death. But she knew he was skilled and deadly, and that even in extraordinary circumstances, she was at an extreme disadvantage.