Page 62

Oh, he wouldn’t dare! “You don’t want me to ring for a doctor? Fine, let me in.”

“No,” Argus calls back.

“Fine. I’m sending Kyros now.”

The door flies open. Eryx barely stands, with Argus keeping him up on one side and Dyson on the other. He’s got his face pointed towardthe floor, and I see little spirals of shadow drifting upward, disappearing when they crest over his head.

“What are you?” I ask, even though the question should be ridiculous.

Eryx coughs, and more shadows spill from his mouth. “I’m just having a bad reaction to whatever was in that curry.”

“A reaction that makes you breathe out shadows?”

“Don’t be preposterous. I have a pipe in here. It’s supposed to counteract the reaction.”

“No, you had shadows coming out of you downstairs, too.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why are you lying to me? Why don’t you want a doctor to come? What the hell is happening?”

He growls, but the sound turns into another cough. “This has happened before. Don’t worry yourself. I’ll be all right. I just need to let my body fight this off. Perhaps don’t put that curry on the menu again.”

“I’ll ask you again, and this time, donotlie to me. Your eyes change colors. You have shadows spooling out of your mouth.Whatare you? The late Shadow King’s bastard?”

Mr. Tomaras said that wasn’t possible, but was he mistaken? There’s no ignoring those shadows.

Eryx goes rigid. “I’m not— How did you— No.” He grunts as another bout of pain takes him over.

He’s going to continue to refuse to give me answers? Fine.

I say, “I sure hope you’re not still sick by the time of the wedding. I’d hate for the Shadow King to see your abilities. He probably wouldn’t accept you as the duke, then.”

Eryx turns his eyes on me, and they are glowing a golden amber. He snarls at me, like an animal, and I see elongated canines.

Just like in my dream.

Argus and Dyson haul him back into the room before anything else can happen. The door slams in my face.

My heart pounds a rapid rhythm as I begin to walk away. What would Eryx have done if Argus and Dyson hadn’t held him back?

The man doesn’t have trauma from the war. He’s not a man at all. He’s something else entirely, and he’s got two hired hands to help him keep from revealing it. What would he do without them? Would those horns sprout from his head? Would he rip out my throat with those canines?

And what would the Shadow King do if he found out someone with such powers existed? Would he see the man as a threat?

Most likely.

I need answers.

Despite the fear and the uncertainty, I let myself into the room next door to the one Eryx is in. I press my ear against the adjoining wall and attempt to slow my breathing, though I don’t think he’s likely to hear it while in his state.

“What do we do?” Dyson asks.

“Nothing,” Argus says. “Just got to let the poison fight its way out of his system.”

“Must have been that bastard, Sarkis.”

Sarkis. That must be the name of the blackmailer.