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“You seem…different. With your fire magic,” she said.

“It is a part of me. When I cannot access it, it is like not being able to access a piece of myself,” he answered, his eyes on his book.

“Will you read to me?”

He turned to her at the request. She still would not bring her eyes to his. “You trust my taste in books that much?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“I trust more than your taste in books,” she answered, tucking her hands under her cheek.

Her answer caught him off guard. “Why?”

“Just read,” she sighed, her eyes closing.

Resisting the urge to touch her yet again, Sorin began reading. Had she noticed his shredded self-control? How he couldn’t resist brushing up against her or playing with her hair? How, despite her clear dislike of the Fae, he had kissed her, desperate to taste her lips once more?

Sorin read to her until she fell asleep, and once her breathing had become even and deep, his mind wandered to everything she had told him that night. He mulled over her story of Callan. He weighed the details of the children missing from the Black Syndicate. Why were they being taken to the castle and killed? If that was indeed where they were being taken. And why only from the Black Syndicate?

He rolled flames between his fingers, thinking through it all. Why had this all fallen on Nuri and Scarlett and the third? Why had none of the others in the Black Syndicate stepped in to help? The Assassin Lord? Or the High Healer?

Then there was the name that had been dropped. Juliette. The final piece of the Wraiths of Death. Death Incarnate, who was apparently dead.

There was a light knock on the door, and Cassius stuck his head in. He noted Scarlett’s sleeping figure and his lips formed a thin line, his face tightening. He jerked his head towards the living area, and Sorin rose to follow him out.

“Is she not feeling well?” Cassius asked as soon as the door shut behind him.

“Physically she is fine,” Sorin answered, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace.

“Did you tell her?”

“Not everything. We were interrupted.” Sorin filled Cassius in on what had happened when Nuri arrived and what had been said. Every minute that passed had Cassius’s eyes growing darker and darker, and when Sorin finished, he was stalking to the spare bedroom door.

“I would be careful to pick a fight with her tonight, Commander. Tonight she acted like the wild Night Children of their realm. If she is still in that state, she will be vicious and merciless.”

“We were trained in the Fellowship,” Cassius answered, pausing to look over his shoulder. “The fact that she lost control at all would be reason enough for punishment there. I assure you, she has mastered herself by now, and if not, I can handle her.”

He threw the spare bedroom door open, and a moment later, was hauling Nuri out by her elbow, partially dragging her. She was calling him every vulgar name possible, hissing and fangs out. Sorin stood still, slightly shocked, as he watched Cassius throw her against a wall and press his forearm to her throat.

“I ought to kick your ass from here to the Pier for the shit you pulled tonight,” he snarled. His voice was lethal and as merciless as he had just warned him Nuri would be. Sorin had never seen this side of Cassius. In all the training, in all the interactions, he had never seen Cassius enraged, out of control, not like this. He didn’t even know hecouldbe like this. His demeanor was callous and cruel and…exactly like the Witches, Sorin realized, his eyes going wide.

“Feeling territorial tonight, Cassius?” Nuri gasped out.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Cassius hissed. “This was not her fault, and you know it. How dare you put all of this on her shoulders!”

Nuri gave him a hard shove, but he hardly moved. “She has been sitting on her ass for a year, and you’ve been content to let her do so.”

“And what have you been doing, Nuri? What have you been doing this past year? Lounging around at the Fellowship, avoiding the sunlight?” Cassius sneered back. “What stopped you from continuing to dig and look for answers? You do not need her to do so.”

“She was the one with access to our best source of information,” Nuri argued.

“You are Death’s Shadow. You can get information in other ways,” he snapped, stepping back and releasing her. She didn’t move as he stared her down, and in a voice as dark as death’s claiming, he said, “Do not ever lay your own guilt and shame upon her again.”

Interesting, Sorin thought, as he studied the exchange. Cassius turned and stalked to the other side of the room. Nuri stayed glued to the wall where Cassius had thrown her. She looked like she was burning to say something but would not allow herself to do so. He’d seen that look on soldiers before. Soldiers who wanted to fight back but were outranked. Cassius was her superior, Sorin realized. In some way, however ranking was doled out in the Black Syndicate, Cassius was a higher rank than she was. Interesting indeed.

“The sun is rising,” Cassius said, addressing Sorin now. “We need to report to the castle.”

Sorin glanced from him to Nuri and back again. “Perhaps someone else should stay here today,” he ventured.

“No,” Cassius said, shaking his head. “Prince Callan is coming here tonight. If one of us does not report today and something goes wrong, we cannot lay groundwork for us to look suspicious. We will go about our normal routines today.”