Chapter 19: The Sorceress’s Tale

Miya Lancaster

The silence lasted exactly one heartbeat.

Miya looked at him—at those gray eyes in which a heavy golden glimmer was already beginning to burn—and understood that he had just given her the right to choose the battlefield. Voluntarily. It was either a trap or a test. Or something else entirely, something she did not yet understand. The elixir was burning inside her, demanding attention—the heat low in her belly, her swollen nipples, the warmth between her thighs—but with an effort of will she pushed the sensations to the edge of her awareness. Not now. The conversation comes first. She slowly leaned back into her chair, allowing herself to relax as much as possible, and only then spoke.

“The matter that made you break into my apartment this morning,” she said evenly. “The matter that made you waste both your time and mine on this dinner. And the matter for which, I assume, you would have been perfectly happy to sit here discussing magnolias until morning if I hadn’t stopped you.”

She paused. Exactly one heartbeat.

“I know you were in my home. I know you found something there—or didn’t. That’s irrelevant. What matters is that you want something from me. Or that you’ve figured something out. So let’s stop dancing around the subject. You asked me a dozen meaningless questions. Now ask the one you actually came here to ask.”

Greymane remained silent. For a long moment. Far too long for a man who had just spent so much time talking without pause. Then his lips twitched—not quite a smile, but something that might have become one if he had allowed himself such a luxury. As it was, it looked more like a snarl. He leaned back in his chair and, quite unexpectedly, crossed one leg over the other, lounging there with an almost proprietary ease, as though he were the one who had just admitted defeat rather than her. Or perhaps the opposite—as though her request to get to the point was precisely what he had been waiting for all along.

“Very well,” he said at last. His voice had changed. It was lower now, harder, stripped of the polished social tone it had carried only a minute ago. “As you wish. But I’d like to begin at the beginning.”

He set down his glass, leaned forward, and placed his hands on the table. Now his gray eyes were fixed directly on her—not as a student, not as a pleasant dinner companion, but as a suspect. As prey. And deep within those eyes, beneath the gray of his irises, Miya noticed something she had not seen before: a heavy, predatory golden glimmer. The beast. The one she had suspected was there. The one hidden beneath the amulet.

There you are, she thought, feeling everything inside her tighten into a taut, ringing knot—not quite fear, not quite anticipation. Her gaze, seemingly unfocused to an outside observer, was fixed on Greymane’s solar plexus. She was ready to listen, but at the same time she was already studying the line of magical protection concealing the inquisitor’s aura and considering how she might unravel it and look beyond. That was what she intended to do. It was only fair that he wasn’t the only one putting pressure on the other. If so, she needed leverage for her own counterattack—cards she did not yet possess. But she intended to find them.

“I’m going to tell you a story, Miss Lancaster,” Greymane said. “Once upon a time, there was a girl. And one day, a spell for summoning a demon fell into her hands...”

Everything inside Miya went cold.

Until that moment, she had still hoped he was bluffing. That he merely wanted to frighten her. That he had nothing but suspicions. But those words...

He knows, the thought flashed through her mind. He really knows. Damn. Damn. Damn.

She did not look away. She did not lower her eyes. Her expression remained as calm as it had been a moment ago—she had far too much control over herself to let the fear show. But inside, her cold, calculating mind was already running through the possibilities. He had no proof—or he would not be sitting here. He would have come with a warrant and guards. So she could deny everything. She could bargain. She could...

What do I do? she thought frantically. He probably doesn’t have proof. But if he turns me in, the mages will get both the books and me. And if he doesn’t ... what does he want? What is he after?

Then another memory came, chilling her from within—the one she would have preferred to forget. Archmage Kalleas. His office. His questions. Back then, she had thought she was holding herself together perfectly too. She had answered evenly, smiled politely, given away not a single emotion. And then, as she was leaving, she had happened to glance at the old man’s face—and seen far too much understanding in his eyes. Far too much knowledge. He had looked at her not as a student, but as a puzzle he had almost solved. A miracle—and the fact that she had left his office in time—were the only things that had saved her then. But she had remembered that look. Remembered the feeling of being figured out.

And this one is no worse, she thought, looking at Greymane. Perhaps he’s even better. He reads faces. Bodies. Scents. He sees what I hide. And now he’s going to test me. Again and again. With every word. Every pause. Every glance.

She understood that if she wanted to leave this booth as the winner—or at least not as the loser—she would have to control every muscle. Every breath. Every movement. And then, strangely enough, a thought came to her that might actually save her.