Rohan was far more interested in the tattoo on the scholar’s arm.
If, as he suspected, Zella had been forbidden from interfering with the Grandest Game, that tattoo was leverage.How terribly inconvenient for you, duchess, that Brady Daniels is living, walking proof that you broke the rules.
And how terribly convenient for me.
Chapter 8
ROHAN
The moon shone brighter in the bayou, bright enough that Rohan could make out the shadowy branches of weeping swamp trees as he fixed his gaze on the moon’s reflection on otherwise black water.
Dark water.Rohan forced himself to keep looking for another five seconds, just to prove he could, then he turned and made for the rather questionable ladder up which his companions had just disappeared.
Whether Severin Thorp’s abode in the bayou was best described as ashackor ashantywas a matter of some debate. It sat on stilts twenty yards away from the water’s edge. By the time Rohan stepped foot on the platform at the top of the ladder, his sense of hearing had already told him that Brady wasn’t inside, but as Rohan pushed the front and only door inward, the beams of multiple flashlights from multiple phones made it clear: Someonehadbeen here. There was a bag on the counter—a small, worn, cloth backpack.
Before any of the others could claim that bag, Rohan gave Knox one last, calculated push. “I know who this place belonged to.” Rohan’s knowledge of Severin Thorp was hardly extensive, but he knew the gentleman had been Knox’s mentor, that he was dead, and that Knoxhad only recently discovered that Severin was gone. “You have my most sincere condolences, Mr. Landry.”
There was nothing glib in Rohan’s tone, but he was well aware that some people did notwantcondolences. Some people were wired to rage instead of mourn.
Knox snarled, and Gigi popped in between them.
“Brady!” Gigi reminded Knox. “You can punch and/or double-punch Rohan’s obnoxiously symmetrical face later. First: We find Brady.”
“Stay here,” Knox growled, slamming out of the shack.
“He meant you two,” Gigi said decisively, scurrying after Knox. Savannah went to follow her sister, then halted when she realized that Rohan showed no signs of moving.
“Go on, love,” he said.
Savannah narrowed her eyes. “You want me to leave.”
“Do I?”
“You’re up to something.”
Rohan flashed her a smile. “Always.”
Icy eyes narrowed just a fraction more. “You’re letting Gigi and Knox do the work of tracking Brady down. Why?”
“Your sister will doubtlessly let you know when they find him. Soulful little thing, isn’t she? And quite intent on making the past up to you.” Rohan almost hated to probe at that wound butneeds must.
“My relationship with my sister is none of your business.” Savannah’s body betrayed her in ways her face did not. Her delicate lips, strong jaw, and silvery eyes were all dangerously neutral. The muscles in her shoulders and neck, however…
The secrets your sister kept from you still hurt, but the pain is duller now, isn’t it, love? No longer bleeding, starting to scar.Rohan had done some of his best work with scars—kissing them, tracing his fingers around them.
Ripping them open at opportune times, the Proprietor whispered somewhere in his mind.
Rohan resisted the urge to reach out and touch his quarry. “Aren’t you going to ask whatwewill be doing while your sister and Knox are finding Brady for us?”
“Do you think I need to?” Savannah reached for Brady’s backpack, her tone making it perfectly clear that cities had been felled by creatures far less capable and fearsome than she. “You’re hoping for leverage that you can use to make Brady more pliant or, barring that, some kind of insight that might allow you to more effectively manipulate him.”
“Manipulative? Me?” Rohan allowed Savannah first stab at the bag and turned his attention to searching the rest of the shack.If I were a secret, where would I be?A full minute passed before Rohan allowed himself another glance in Savannah’s direction.
She’d removed three books from the backpack, and Rohan helped himself to them. “It appears our Mr. Daniels has a fondness for poetry, particularly of the French variety.” Rohan could—and probably should—have stopped there. “A match, I believe, for the gentleman’s taste in fairy tales.” Rohan dragged his eyes upward to Savannah’s. “Such asLes Fées.”
He waited to see if the winter girl would take the bait. She did not.
“I would very much have liked to see the scholar’s expression,” Rohan continued, “when you let it be known that you would no sooner spit diamonds than snakes.”