The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(29)

“Is the universal antidote helping?” I asked, moving to stand at the table. “What about a tox screen? Is that possible with alchemy?”

“To an extent.” He started pulling things off the shelves. “And I’m not sure if the universal antidote is helping. Her breathing is more normal, but that’s it.”

As he stacked bottles, dried herbs, drafting paper, protractors, rulers, and a set of scales on the table, I glanced toward the open door. Ríkr had taken his hawk form to keep an eye out for any pursuers, and Grenior and Keelar were doing the same on foot. We were almost five hours of hard travel from the Shadow Court, but that wasn’t far enough to count this location as safe—though if Yilliar was to be believed, no one aside from him had followed us.

I picked up a bundle of dried leaves, recognizing them as mountain ash. “Will Izverg hunt you down?”

“If you’d asked me yesterday, I would’ve said that Izverg doesn’t give a shit about me.” He shrugged off his long coat. “But I can’t think of any reason he wouldn’t kill and eat Lallakai unless he wanted her alive to lure me in.”

He set his coat on the counter, his black, long-sleeved shirt stretching across his shoulders with the movement. Digging into the coat’s interior, he pulled a small leather book from a hidden pocket. I watched him open the grimoire, momentarily lost in a memory of the same book in his hands ten years ago, his green eyes gliding aimlessly across its pages while I played with my red-handled switchblade.

“Lure you in …” I repeated slowly. “Do you think Izverg might have something to do with Echo calling for you?”

Zak looked up from the grimoire, and that same sharp tightness darkened his eyes: fear. Fear at the suggestion that Izverg had lured him into a trap.

“I don’t know,” he growled, looking down at the grimoire again. “Like I said, Echo is powerful. Izverg used to be afraid of him.”

“But Izverg is stronger now. Yilliar called him a Lord of Death. He’s increased his rank since you knew him.”

Zak turned pages in his grimoire, searching for something. “All the more reason to get away from him.”

“What about Echo?”

“He can take care of himself.”

“But he called for you.”

“I’m just a druid, Saber,” he snapped. “Echo can crush small towns without breaking a sweat. He doesn’t need me.”

I wasn’t sure what surprised me more: Zak’s anger or the implication about his fae ally’s power.

“Zak—” I began.

“Don’t fucking start.” He slashed a glare across me. “I’m not a white knight. My relationship with Echo is one of convenience—for both of us. I’m not going up against the Shadow Court for a fae who only shows up to help me when he feels like it.”

I was silent.

He slapped his open grimoire down on the table. “You know I’m not the ‘loyal ally’ type. I put myself first ten years ago, and I haven’t changed. If you want me to be the kind of person who turns into a self-sacrificing fool the moment their friends are in trouble, too fucking bad. That’s not who I am.”

Bitterness suffused me at his casually cutting reference to his betrayal, but again, I said nothing. My silence only angered him more.

“For fuck’s sake, Saber!” He was almost shouting. “Stop with the fucking judgmental stare. I’m a goddamn rogue. What did you expect?”

I drew in a deep breath—then I slammed both hands down on the table. “If you yell any more bullshit at me, I’ll break your jaw!”

He recoiled slightly, his fury interrupted. I jumped on his hesitation.

“That’s all complete garbage and you know it. Have you already forgotten how you risked your life like a self-sacrificing fool last week when we went up against Luthyr?”

Expression darkening, he opened his mouth, but I slammed my hands down again, cutting him off.

“This has nothing to do with how fucking noble you are. You aren’t walking away because you’re a coldhearted bastard who can’t be bothered to help his allies. You’re running away from Izverg.”

Zak’s hands curled into fists.

“And,” I finished, my voice softening, “that’s fine. That’s your choice. But quit trying to convince me it’s because you’re selfish when it’s really because you’re scared.”

“I’m not—” He cut himself off, then swore under his breath.

I walked around the table. Zak watched me approach, his mouth twisted and his eyes shuttered.

I stopped in front of him. “Is Izverg more powerful than the Dullahan or Luthyr? I doubt it. But the Dullahan and Luthyr never tormented you when you were young and vulnerable. Of course Izverg scares you, Zak. How could he not?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Looking away from my steady gaze, he turned to the table, unable to face me. Saying nothing, he pulled his grimoire closer. After a moment spent staring at the page, he reached for the drafting paper.

Leaning against the table beside him, just far enough away to avoid accidentally catching an elbow in the ribs, I watched as he traced out a circle and filled it with precisely measured geometric lines that connected smaller circles and other shapes. He drew in alchemic symbols with smooth proficiency, then set the charcoal pencil aside.