“Do you want to see what it’s like?” he whispered.
I didn’t respond, but he smiled as if he could hear the wild rush of blood pounding through me.
“No,” he said, retracting his offer. “Every grain is precious, and I don’t know what your true desire is. Yet.”
True desire? What was he talking about?
And then he licked the grain of dust from his fingertip.
I wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, but the light in the room seemed to change as if it all came from him. The hunger in his eyes ignited like a wildfire, and in one step, he had pinned me against the wall. His hand slipped around my waist, and his face pressed close to mine. “I wanted to kill you,” he whispered against my cheek.
His breaths were heavy, instantly hot, like a furnace had raged inside of him all along just waiting to be let loose. Kill me or kiss me? Now I knew. Kill.
“The minute you were captured, I wanted to kill you, more than I had wanted to kill any Ballenger.” He lifted my chin so I had to look in his eyes. A frightening brilliance gleamed in them. “You have no idea the problems your meddling caused me. I risked everything for this moment. I have years invested and everything I own—and in one thoughtless act, you burned up everything I’ve worked for.”
His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. A quick jerk could snap my back. Heat radiated from his skin.
“Not everything,” I reminded him. “The missing papers are somewhere. And you want me to find them.”
His grip eased, the fire retreating. “Yes,” he said slowly. “The papers.” His true desire. He released me and stepped away. “Banques convinced me you might be useful. And I am a forgiving and fair man. You know that, right?”
I nodded, feeling like I was trying to outrun an angry bear and with every step it was gaining ground.
He smiled. “Good.” He reached out and ran a knuckle along my jaw. “Besides, you were only an underling following orders. And now you follow mine.”
* * *
Garvin had told him I’d once been a thief. A good one. Which probably explained why the queen had sent me to retrieve Beaufort. Montegue said they had combed the entire estate, including several floors of archives in Raehouse, still certain the documents had to be somewhere. The attack on Tor’s Watch had been a surprise—no more than a moment’s notice as tarps were thrown free from wagons at the front gates and weapons were fired. But it was their first time shooting the oversized launchers, and their aim was off. Instead of taking down the wall, it took down the center tower of the main house. Screaming could be heard from within. Ballengers and employees alike were running for their lives.
I tried to block the thought, to feel nothing as he described it to me, but screams I hadn’t even heard carved holes through me. I imagined the panic. Vairlyn shouting orders, trying to rush everyone to safety. Searching for her children. Samuel. Was that how he died?
“Are you listening to me?” Montegue asked sharply.
“Of course,” I answered, shoving the growing fear far away. Montegue wasn’t an inexperienced monarch being led along by a power-hungry general. He was a cold-blooded plotter—the architect. He didn’t stumble upon an opportunity—he created it. How long had he been planning this? It made me think of the Komizar, who had built his army for years to create an unstoppable force. He’d also had an insatiable desire for more. Just how much more did this king want?
Montegue went on, telling me it wasn’t likely that the Ballengers had time to gather anything before they fled, much less a thick stack of parchments, and yet the coveted documents appeared to have vanished.
I wrinkled my brow, trying to appear appropriately perplexed. I worked for him now, and I wasn’t as far in the inner circle as I thought. In fact I was still scrambling on the edge, trying to keep one foot in.
“Find them,” he said. It wasn’t a request. It was an order from king to thief. What if I did find them? What would I do?
Destroy them. I heard the urgency in Phineas’s last words again. The fear. The regret. Great gods, what had he done? The magic of the stars. What did that even mean?
Imagine the possibilities.
I was sure the king and Banques already had.
I spent the next two hours searching every corner of Cave’s End, running my fingers along bookcases and desks, looking for hidden doors and secret nooks. I managed to find a few panels that led to hidden empty spaces. That was all. Divot Head served as my escort, and his dull lifeless eyes watched every move I made. It was obvious that all the rooms had already been searched. Bedding in the chambers was stripped and strewn. Wardrobe doors left open and emptied of contents—most of it littering the floors. The king’s logic was sound. I knew if the family was racing to get people into the vault, there was no time to gather food, much less Phineas’s papers. Gunner probably didn’t even know for sure that they were of any value. The king had said Phineas wrote them in the language of the Ancients from which he had procured most of his knowledge of the elements, and it was a language only known to a few. He had promised to transcribe them and send them to the king soon, but then I had intervened.
We came to one room that was neat and orderly. “The lieutenant’s quarters,” Divot Head explained. “He has duties here and at the arena.”
“Do I search?”
Divot Head shrugged. “Already searched.”
I did a cursory search anyway. The only unusual thing I found was a woman’s chemise under the bed. Apparently this lieutenant had done some entertaining here. Other than that, the room was sparse. Whoever this lieutenant was, he wasn’t settling in for a long stay. I couldn’t blame him. The overwhelming gloom of abandonment hung in the air like a heavy cloud ready to burst with despair. Who could live among this desolation for any length of time?
We finally returned to Raehouse empty-handed. By then the king was gone, along with the children, to the arena. Banques stood over a table with Paxton and Truko, studying maps and ledgers and discussing goods that would bring the arena more profit. Why did they need money so badly? They controlled everything now. What else could they want?