Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(69)

I raised my brows. “Seamlessly?”

In a pointed tone, he said, “Such as respecting my privacy.”

We’d stopped outside his study door. I’d followed him to his suite?

And now he would cloister himself in there until tomorrow, another day lost. Remembering the anguish in Jack’s eyes, I reached for Death’s arm, saying, “If I’m not your weakness, then why are you always avoiding me?”

Menace in every line of his body, the Reaper grabbed my wrist to block me. Yet then he gazed down at where our skin touched, his expression like that of an addict getting a quick fix. The amber in his eyes brightened to a starry gold. In a rough voice, he said, “I’ve warned you, Empress.” Seeming to give himself a shake, he released me.

“Everyone’s terrified of the Touch of Death,” I murmured, “yet you seem to fear mine.”

He gave me a withering look. “I don’t needlessly handle vipers.”

Hate him! “You just admire them from afar? Defang them?” I motioned toward my cuff.

He didn’t deny it. “The only way you can let them slither around in your home. . . .”





30

DAY 274 A.F.

Ogen is inside the manor.

At midnight, hunger had driven me—with my Cyclops shadow—from my bed. I hadn’t heard from Matthew for two days, and worry had killed my appetite. But then I’d reminded myself that I needed to stay strong. Since my powers weren’t.

I’d donned a robe over my nightgown, then slunk down the stairwell into the dimly lit corridor. My breath had caught when I’d spied an exterior door at the end of the east wing open, muddy prints tracked in.

Huge hoofprints.

Ogen could be anywhere, could be lying in wait behind any door. Gaze darting, I cursed my cuff yet again. Should I make a run for my room, trusting one giant wolf to keep me safe from an ogre?

I had a better idea.

I gazed down at my guard. “Find Ogen, wolf”—I waved him forward—“go on.” Cyclops narrowed his yellow eye, displaying that unnatural animal awareness. “I am not even kidding. Find Ogen!” He gave me a pissy look, but did begin sniffing the trail.

I let him get some distance away, then took off running in the opposite direction for Death’s unauthorized suite. Just before Cyclops caught me, I banged on the door.

Death’s door. I would’ve cringed at that if I weren’t so freaked.

When the Reaper opened, Cyclops had a mouthful of my robe and was tugging, while I clung like an idiot to the doorframe. In other words, we looked like a slapstick duo.

But how ridiculous I looked was instantly forgotten—in the face of how gorgeous Death was.

Blond hair attractively disheveled, he wore faded jeans and an open black button-down. My gaze was riveted to the sight of his tattooed chest.

Again his scent hit me. Sandalwood and pine. Heavenly.

He didn’t move from the doorway. “I’ve told you this area is off-limits.”

Inner shake. Form words. “I need your help,” I said, shuffling my leg behind me. When I connected with wolf snout, Cyclops released me at last. “Ogen’s in the manor.”

“Is he, then?” Death asked, staring at my body as avidly as I had at his. His eyes began to emit that spellbinding light.

My nightgown and silk robe covered everything—but he had a way of looking at me that made me feel bare.

I snapped my fingers. “Can you concentrate? He’s in here.”

Death took his time raising his gaze to meet mine. “I find it amusing that you fear Ogen, so you run to the one Arcana who poses much more danger to you.”

“Please?” I said, glancing past him to get a peek at this man’s personal space. The room behind him was a study, with shelves of ancient-looking books and curios.

He reached to one side, producing a sword. From where, an umbrella stand? Or had he kept it at the ready—to use against me?

“You always have one of those close at hand?”

He stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind him. “Without fail.” After murmuring some foreign words at the wolf, he strode away. Over his shoulder, he commanded me, “Stay there.”

Alas, I did not know my commands as well as Ogen. I needed to investigate Death’s study, to gain some insight into the mysterious knight. When I reached for the doorknob, Cyclops growled.

I kept turning the knob, until he wrapped his maw around my entire calf, the threat clear. “All right, all right! You are such a pain in my ass, dog.” As soon as I let go of the knob, he released me.

Resigned to waiting, I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back against the door. All along the hall hung works of art that looked priceless, definitely centuries old. I knew a little about art and thought they might be Italian.

Most were of battle scenes, with the faces of the soldiers obscured. Though the artists had depicted splintered lances and cavalry horses in mid-leap, I still found the effect static. Frozen.

Like this entire place.

The wolf had probably saved me a lot of grief, because Death returned in just a few minutes. “Evidently Ogen wanted ham,” he said dryly. “And he wanted it badly enough to disobey me. He’s gone now—you may return to your room.”

“Did you dock his horns?”

At the doorway, he said, “Fauna’s been talking, then? Yes, I punished him. I’ve been softer in this game, and he reacted, testing boundaries. He will come to heel now.”