The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(105)

Teague arched a brow, though his eyes glinted with malice, but he didn’t argue as Sebastian scooped up the princess and cradled her to his chest as he walked out of the study.

Her body felt strange—unwieldy and unaware—and he had to stop himself from straining to listen for a breath from her lips. From telling himself that maybe he’d felt her move on her own.

She was gone—locked inside the vial in his pocket. Hovering just out of his reach.

But not for long. He’d promised to protect her. He’d promised to help her destroy Teague. All that stood between him and keeping those promises was the terrible agony of collecting one hundred souls.

He laid her on his bed in the room he kept at the back of the villa and locked the door. The sight of her sun-streaked brown hair spilling around her body while her dark eyes stared at nothing nearly sent him to his knees with a fresh wave of grief.

He didn’t have time to grieve. Not if he wanted to fix this. He had to put the next part of her plan into place and then go do his part to make sure she had the chance to finish it.

“Forgive me,” he said as he carefully pulled free the blank contract she’d hidden in her chemise. Unfolding it at his desk, he dipped a quill into his pot of ink, took a moment to remember her exact wording, and began to write.

When he’d filled out the space reserved for the specific exchange of goods and services, he returned to the bed and pricked her finger with the blade he had strapped to his ankle. Pressing her fingerprint to the debtee’s side of the contract, he refolded the parchment and carefully tucked it back into its hiding place.

Her plan was ready. All that was needed were the souls of one hundred people and an opportunity to turn the tide against Teague once and for all.

He bent and kissed the cool skin of her forehead, and then left the villa and headed into east Kosim Thalas.

He couldn’t take the souls of one hundred innocent people. Not even for Ari. Not even to stop Teague.

Panic lanced his chest, bright and hot, and he clenched his fists.

There had to be a way to do this. To save the girl he loved without losing the rest of himself. His heart pounded painfully as he grasped for ideas that all seemed destined for failure.

Drawing in a deep breath, he willed his thoughts to settle and his heart to slow as one idea—one crazy, nightmarish idea—took hold.

He couldn’t take the souls of innocents, but he could find the strength of will to dismantle Teague’s entire criminal network, one employee at a time. He just had to trick them into thinking the contract they were signing was to renegotiate their terms with Teague. Or gain a promotion. Or stay on his good side. Whatever would motivate them into putting their mark on the contracts Sebastian held.

The runners assigned to night duty stood at attention when he stalked through the entrance of east Kosim Thalas. He swept them with a glance and barked, “Get your bosses and every single member of your teams to the north warehouse within the next hour. I will personally punish anyone who is late.”

Without waiting for a reply, he headed through the warren of streets, glaring at anyone who dared to meet his gaze, until he reached the warehouse.

Two entrances. Skylights instead of windows.

It would do.

Ignoring the pounding of his heart and the sickness that kept creeping up the back of his throat, he chained the back door shut from the outside, lit a few torches along the inner walls, and stood by the front entrance as Teague’s people began arriving.

In just under an hour, he had one hundred people gathered at the front of the warehouse. He’d turned away the extras, telling them simply that they’d been summoned by mistake. It was a flimsy lie, but they were in no position to question Kosim Thalas’s collector. Not without displeasing Teague.

Now, he faced the crowd and felt his throat close as they grew silent beneath his gaze.

He was gambling with their lives. Betting on the princess and her plan, because if he didn’t, Teague would win.

Still, it didn’t matter how lofty he told himself his motives were. He was going to lie. Going to trick them into a bargain they’d pay for with their lives. The fact that if the princess’s plan worked, he hoped to be able to put their souls back into their bodies didn’t take away an ounce of his guilt.

He glanced through the skylight and tracked the position of the moon.

Three and a half hours left.

He cleared his throat and forced his guilt and fear into the darkest recess of his mind. This crowd expected to deal with Sebastian the collector—ruthless and unyielding.

“Teague is expanding his business,” he said, his voice as hard as the floor beneath his boots. “He has inroads in Akram, Ravenspire, Morcant, and Loch Talam. He needs trusted employees with unquestionable loyalty to accept a promotion and an accompanying pay increase and prepare to go into those kingdoms to recruit and train new teams. You were all chosen”—he cleared his throat again and swallowed hard against the knot of guilt that lodged there—“because you arrived early. You left your homes, your families. You left everything behind the instant he asked you to, and that proves your loyalty.”

He couldn’t bear to see the mix of satisfaction and excitement on their faces. Instead, he pulled out the sheaf of contracts and unrolled them.

“A promotion requires a new employment contract with Teague. The terms of service list your new responsibilities and pay increase.” It was sickening how easily the lies rolled off his tongue. He glanced at the moon again and reached for the dagger he’d strapped to his waist. “Form an orderly line and make your mark on your contract. Once all contracts have been marked, I will give you further instructions.”