Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)

“Information.”


“You wish me to spy?” I was flabbergasted. Yes, I wanted to make Edmund and my father pay for what they had done, but he was not only asking me to pass on information, he was asking me to put my own life in danger.

“Oh, it is not simply a request for a spy, Wynifred. You are my father’s top assassin. You kill anyone who puts a toe out of line in my father’s sights. Good or bad, you kill them all. And you do it well.”

“I am good at it for a reason, Ilyan.” I smiled, taking his compliment to heart. “It’s not just death. Anyone can kill. Anyone can remove the beating heart of a magical being.” I lowered my voice alluringly as I moved closer to him, wanting to test the boundaries of Ilyan’s bargain. I was pleased when his jaw tightened uncomfortably. “No matter how much I enjoy it,” I continued, “it’s more about finding information, and I can do that above all others.”

“Then find information for me.” He lifted his chest toward me, his eyes flashing dangerously at his words, but I only smiled.

I liked this game of cat and mouse; but what I liked more was the very real possibility of destroying the carefully placed web that Edmund had created. My adrenaline surged at the very thought. I would make him pay.

“What type of information?” I asked coyly. As much as I liked the thought, I still needed to play my cards right to make this arrangement benefit me.

“His plans, his weakness, what he knows about the sight,” my head snapped to his, my eyes narrowing, but he only smiled. “The name of your next target and every one following.”

I stopped my pacing, my head slowly turning toward Ilyan. All of that was doable; I could tell him most of the information now. But the name of my target? Ilyan wasn’t requesting that so he could do the job for me, he was requesting it so he could save their life.

My job didn’t entail just destruction; Edmund required proof of the job’s completion. He wanted the still beating heart of the victim. Edmund wanted their magic. If I were to turn the names over to Ilyan, then I would have no way of handing the hearts over to him. I would have no way to prove the job had been done.

“What would you have me tell my master, Ilyan, if I suddenly stopped bringing him the hearts of his enemies?” I asked as I paced in front of him, careful not to let my eyes leave his. We may be in the beginnings of a bargain, but I did not trust him, not yet.

“You will think of something,” he smiled, and I couldn’t help but return it. He was right, I would. I had already begun to think of possible ways to disguise mortal hearts as those of magical beings.

“Besides, he is not your Master anymore.”

“And you are?” My voice snapped as I spun to face him, the fabric of my skirt dragging through pine needles.

“I am no one’s Master.” His voice was hard. Odd, he almost seemed offended by my comment.

“I think your muscle would disagree with that.” The shadow shifted at my words, and I found myself drawn to it. Perhaps it was because Ilyan wasn’t responding to any of my advances, and I needed someone to confirm that my techniques were still usable.

“He is free to come and go whenever he pleases.”

“Then maybe I will steal him from you,” I smiled, but Ilyan’s face only hardened.

“Only if you wish to make acquaintance with his sword,” he said through gritted teeth. I could tell right then that he would never trust me, even if he consented to what I was about to ask of him.

I stood still as our eyes locked, each one weighing the other. He was wondering if he could actually trust me, and I was wondering why he hadn’t done away with me already. I had killed more than half of his army with my own hands, and yet, he let me live. I didn’t know if it was pity or desperation that had brought him here, but part of me wished he would plunge me through already.

“Information?” I asked when the silence had become too much.

“Yes.” He swung his walking stick once, slamming it into the ground as if to accentuate his words. I didn’t even flinch.

“And not my magic.”

“No.”

I shouldn’t have felt stung, but I did. It was not because all of my physical advances had yet to be effective, but because everyone wanted use of the last of the fire magic.

Everyone.

They all wanted my power and the upper hand it would give them, but the leader of the Sk?íteks stood in front of me saying he wanted none of it. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit suspicious.

“Am I not appealing to you, Ilyan?” I popped my hip, testing him, watching him, needing to know for sure.

“I’m taken.”

“So it would seem,” I laughed, eyeing the shadow of the man who still stood guard behind him.