“He has no idea.” Connor’s feet scuffled against the floor, sending echoes through the room. “Do you mind if I turn on the lights? Having this discussion in the dark is starting to creep me out.”
“If you know how to do it, be my guest.”
“Right.” Footsteps moved away from me, followed by a scraping sound before the room filled with warm, colorless light that seemed to emanate from the walls. Connor was about five feet away, hand pressed flat against one of the decorative sconces. I must have been staring, because he shrugged.
“Evening showed me,” he said. “She thought it was a good idea for someone else to know.”
“How long ago?”
“A few months.”
That implied one of two things. Either Evening had been expecting to die . . . or this wasn’t Connor. “Here.” I offered him the knife I’d borrowed from Dare, hilt first. “Take this.”
He blinked. “What? Why?”
“Because I need you to cut yourself.” He looked blank, and I sighed. “I just got attacked by a Doppelganger, Connor. I don’t really think whoever wants me dead is going to spring for another one when the first one failed, but a girl can’t be too careful.”
“You’re serious.”
“Usually, yes.”
Glowering, he took the knife and nicked his index finger, holding it up to show me. “See? Perfectly normal blood.”
Doppelgangers can fake a lot of things. They can’t fake bleeding. “Excellent. My knife, if you would?” I held out my hand, and, still glowering, he pressed the hilt back into my palm.
Sliding the knife back into my belt, I turned to look around the room. It seemed smaller with the lights on. A simple silver throne sat in the center, and doors were scattered almost at random around the perimeter, leading to who knew where. I’d never seen half of them used, and I was probably going to need to try them all before the day was out. Evening’s coat of arms hung on the wall, alone; there was another set of arms there once, but Dawn had been dead for almost twenty years. It just took her sister a while to catch up.
“It’s odd that she showed you how to work the lights,” I said. “She never showed me.”
“Would you have trusted her if she tried?”
That stopped me. Even before the pond, I was never the most trusting of people; afterward, I’d stopped paying attention to anything but my own paranoia. Would I have trusted Evening if she’d offered? Probably not. Was I hurt that she hadn’t asked? Unfortunately, yes.
“No,” I said, finally. “I wouldn’t have.”
“That’s probably why she didn’t.”
I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the wall. “I didn’t come here to talk about my personal problems.”
“So why are you here?”
“Because I have a job to do.”
“And that job is in Goldengreen? You should be calling Sylvester before he freaks out completely.”
“Like I said, I thought someone had already called him.” I looked back toward Connor, sighing. “My job is wherever Evening’s killers are. I don’t know where that is, so I’m starting here.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Does it matter?” I asked. “What can they do at this point? Kill me? They’re already trying. It doesn’t matter whether I’m up for this: I’m involved, and I get uninvolved when this ends or I die. No sooner.”
Connor frowned. “You’re bleeding.” He sounded surprised.
“I know.” I took a look at the blood soaking my shirt, and sighed. “That’s the third shirt this week. I swear, I should just go topless.”
“What happened?” His surprise had shifted, becoming hurt irritation. Jeez. It wasn’t like I needed someone to protect me—and if I had, there were people in line ahead of him.
“Do you mean over the last week, or just now?” I deadpanned.
“Just now. I already know most of the last week.”
“Remember that Doppelganger attack I mentioned?” He nodded. “That happened. Look, you can come when I grovel at Sylvester’s feet about the fact that no one called him.”
“You’re still bleeding.” He put his hand on my shoulder, and my heartbeat doubled. Moving with what I hoped was casual slowness, I stepped out from under it. I didn’t need this. Not now. Probably not ever.
Connor took a deep breath and asked, “Will you let me help you?”
He just kept coming up with the stumpers. Next he’d probably ask how I got in without using the front door. I turned back to the wall, saying, “Connor, I can’t involve you in this.”
“You think Raysel did it, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question.
“I think she might have.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Does that bother you?” I looked over my shoulder, waiting for him to flinch or betray some sign of guilt—anything to get my hormone levels down.
He didn’t oblige. His expression was neutral as he said, “I don’t think she did it; it’s not her style. But I can see why you’d suspect her. Does
“Yes,” I admitted. “It bothers me.” There was no point in lying.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t figure out why you went and married someone like her.” There: I’d said it. Maybe he’d give me an answer I could believe.
“It was political.” It was his turn to look away. “Salt-mist needed a truce, Raysel needed a husband. She liked my looks, her parents approved, Duchess Lorden told me to go, I went.”
“It was an arranged marriage?” My opinion of his taste went up about twenty points, but I was still horrified. Being a feudal society doesn’t mean we have to be
“My wife certainly thinks so.”
“That’s just not right.”
“That’s how things are. My home Duchy needs the alliance, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my home.” He squared his shoulders, and my heart did a stuttering box step.
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice unintentionally soft.
He stepped toward me. “So am I.”
For a moment, we just stared into one another’s eyes. His were brown from edge to edge, darkening at the center rather than resolving into a defined pupil. You could drown in those eyes. I wanted to. It would have been safer than whatever I was doing with Devin, and a lot less likely to get me killed . . . and it wasn’t an option. If I was looking for sex, I already had it, and if I was looking for love, I was probably out of luck—and either way, this wasn’t my road to take. Bracing my hands against his chest, I pushed him backward.
“We can’t do this,” I said. My voice was hollow. It wasn’t so much that I wanted him as it was that I wanted the idea of him; the idea of someone who would hold me and tell me things were going to be okay, without having to go back Home.
Connor gave me a hurt look, reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder. “Why not? I want to. So do you. Why can’t we?”
“Let’s start with the easy stuff,” I said, stepping out from under his hand. “You’re married, and I don’t want to be banished. Is that a good answer?”
“Raysel won’t care; you know that. As long as we stay married, she stays heir, and that makes her happy. It’s not a marriage. It’s a treaty.”
“I care. I won’t step on her toes.” I took another step back, shaking my head. “It’s not worth it, Connor.”
“I don’t think you mean that,” he said, voice pitched low. The tone sent a thrumming down my spine. My central nervous system voted to abdicate. No, no, no. This was
“Look, Connor, maybe it would be worth it. I don’t know. Ask me again when we know who killed Evening, and maybe I’ll have a good answer.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “For right now, can we just try to figure
