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“This is insane.”

“There is no non-insane option,” I pointed out.

He stared at me, his golden eyes glinting with intensity. “I wasn’t saying that as a negative. Though I do wonder why we need to send you in and not someone less valuable.”

“Because I don’t need to be armed to kill him. If he turns on me, all it takes is a stroke from my fingertips to send him into theabyss. At least until he comes back—but by then, I will be long gone.”

“You’re not going until you have her voice and mannerisms absolutely perfect. How is your Penore accent?”

“Not bad, I think. How’s this?” I said in my best attempt.

“Needs work. She has a husky, seductive tone. And you will need to sway your hips and give a saucy smile, like you’re thinking about sex at all times. And gods know what you’d have to do with the Pater behind closed doors.”

I cocked my head. “Tell me this: why, exactly, areyoudoing all this to bring down the Order? You’re safe here. They don’t know this island exists.”

Firelight shone in his eyes. “Eternal life is a gift, but one needs to be worthy of it. That, and I fucking hate the Order more than anything, and nothing delights me more than revenge. Like I said, a soul is just a reason for living.”

He turned and walked away from me.

Why did I feel like there was so much he wasn’t telling me?

CHAPTER 12

Sion stood across from me in the garden, arms folded. He leaned back against a mossy wall, just next to an arched doorway that led to the rambling, overgrown garden we stood in. Above the door, the stony visages of a long-forgotten dual-headed god glowered at me. Sion looked about as impressed with me as they did.

I sauntered closer to him, swaying my hips, and touched his arm. “Pater, my darling, I brought your tea, just the way you like it,” I said, mimicking the chambermaid’s voice, the way Sion had been teaching me for the past two days. “And some fruit with extra cream. You know, extra cream always makes things better.”

I mimicked dipping my finger into the cream and licking it off, hating myself just a bit.

“Voice is perfect, but your expression is all wrong.”

“My expression?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You look unhappy. When was the last time you feltactualunrestrained happiness or pleasure?”

My thoughts spun back to the escape from Ruefield, when I’d touched the soldiers, and death had coursed from my fingertips. Archon above, that couldnotbe what made me truly happy.

“I don’t know,” I said quickly. “When was I last happy? Probably sometime before I was kidnapped by religious fanatics and forced into a maze of deadly traps.”

“So, when, exactly? Give me a memory.” Mist twined around Sion, and he uncrossed his arms, stepping closer to me.

I searched through a flickering stream of memories. Maybe it was back before my cursed touch, when Anselm would kiss my neck beneath the sycamore tree.

No, there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite grasp. I felt it in my thoughts. Just there. But when I tried to grasp the memory, it floated away on the wind, like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze. I’d brought fruit into the forest…

It was gone again.

“I…can’t remember.”

Another step, his gait eerily graceful as he prowled closer. He stared down at me, the gold of his eyes contrasting sharply with his black eyelashes. “Your accent and voice are perfect for Verica, but she always seems happy. Merry. She laughs easily.”

“I can do that.” This was my idea to impersonate Verica, and I wasn't going to give up yet.

If I could learn the Pater’s weakness, the Order would fall into disarray. He had an iron-tight grip on power, and without him, they’d crumble to pieces. I’d never need to spend another night worrying about that little tattoo on Leo’s wrist that marked him as a suspect. I’d never have to worry that they’d capture me again.

He took a step closer, tilting his chin down. “Do you want to know why I am so irresistibly charming, Elowen?”

“Isthathow you see it?”