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I frowned. It was unlike him to leave without the rest of us. “Was there a reason? Has something happened?”

“Yeah, he had to go meet the man who ran the background. Apparently he called with some information on Gilda.”

“Why didn’t the fellow just tell him over the phone?”

“Because he said someone had broken into his house and attempted to kill him, and he wanted a guarantee of safety before he said anything.”

Alarm slithered through me. “That sounds a little too much like a trap to me.”

“Mathi said the same thing.”

“But he still went?”

Lugh nodded. “He ensured the meeting point was a fully concreted structure.”

“From what I understand, most concrete structures have reinforced steel.”

“I said that. He said that had been considered.” Lugh picked up a slice of toast, slathered butter on it, and then swirled it through his baked beans. “The entire area will be closed off and patrolled several hours beforehand, and given it appears using the ruby requires proximity?—”

“Halak’s might,” I cut in, “but we don’t know if the one Keelakm’s using does.”

“But we do. He was spotted on security cams outside the Eadevane Holdings building, and there was a red crystal in his hand.”

I just about choked on my bacon. “We have a picture of him?”

Lugh nodded, dragged out his phone, and pulled up a photo. It showed a tall, slim man with pale hair, sharp cheekbones, and a horseshoe-shaped scar on his cheek.

A memory twitched. I knew that scar. Knew the man behind it. We’d been lovers, once. A threesome. Me, Halak, and him.

It was just so frustrating that I couldn’t remember more.

“What?” Lugh immediately said.

“I did that,” I said, motioning to Keelakm’s face.

“You did?” He turned the phone around and studied the image. “I can’t remember you dating anyone like this.”

“Neither did I until just a second ago.”

He swore softly. “We need to get you to that memory regression mage ASAP.”

“I’ve already made an appointment.”

“When for?”

“Tomorrow morning.” I hesitated. “Presuming, of course, we’ll be out of here by then.”

“We will,” Cynwrig said as he came through the door. “We leave in an hour, in fact.”

Lugh offered him a plate, but Cynwrig shook his head and helped himself to the coffee instead.

“Did you get anything useful from the historian?” Lugh asked.

Cynwrig perched on the arm of my chair, his big body washing warmth across my senses. But there was tension there, too, and an odd sort of distance. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with the fact we were within—even if on the outskirts of—a Myrkálfar encampment. He had slept elsewhere, after all.

“The man going by the name of Ka-hal Lewis was indeed born here, and his first name is indeed Halak. His father worked in a mine owned by Eadevane not far from here, but died when he was forced to do a double shift that drained too much of his life force. Apparently, it was a common issue back then.”

“Health and safety did not exist back then, obviously,” I commented.