The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(76)

She’d been in his locked study. Even if she hadn’t heard the rules Maarit gave her on her first morning at the villa, she knew that a locked door meant stay out.

She was lying about the door being unlocked. Lying about having no reason to go into his study except to dust. The princess was a smart, resourceful girl, and she didn’t do things without an ulterior motive.

She was hunting for something.

Ice filled his veins, and he tightened his grasp around the princess’s wrist until she gasped with pain.

She was hunting, but she was looking in the wrong place. There was nothing in the villa she could use against him. Any humans who knew his secret had long since been buried. He’d made sure of that. And the few fae left on Llorenyae who were old enough to remember his birth would never speak of it to a human.

Death was the only way out of a bargain with Teague, and as soon as he was finished using the king to put himself in a position of unassailable power, he would personally destroy the meddling princess.

But first, he had to expose her deceit and punish her for it.

The princess hesitated as they neared the doorway, and Teague yanked her forward, his fingers gripping her wrist like a shackle. Sebastian moved to follow them, and Teague snapped, “Stay.”

The boy wanted to disobey. Teague could see it in the way his jaw tensed while his eyes followed the princess’s every move. But then he met Teague’s gaze, and his expression became a blank, unreadable mask. His fists relaxed, and he leaned a hip against the table as if to say, “Go ahead. I’ll just wait here.”

Teague smiled. “I didn’t think either of Jacob’s sons had it in them to live up to their father’s reputation for vicious self-preservation, but you may prove me wrong.”

He pulled the princess into the hall and headed toward his study. The boy was smart and ruthless, but the princess was still his weakness. Now that Sebastian was Teague’s top Kosim Thalas employee, he’d be staying in the villa as his predecessor had done. If Teague couldn’t trust him to obey, regardless of his personal feelings for the princess, then the boy would have to be disposed of.

It would be a shame to lose someone with his potential.

“What are you doing?” the princess asked as they reached the study. Her voice was breathless from pain and panic.

“Proving you a liar,” he said softly, and waited for her to flinch.

She didn’t. Instead, her golden cheeks flushed with color, and her voice rose. “I’ve never met anyone more suspicious than you and Maarit. I was dusting. Haven’t you noticed how terrible the place looks? I was helping you.”

“Helping yourself to something of mine is more like it,” he said, letting go of her wrist to unlock the door.

She glared at him and stomped across the threshold. Gesturing wildly, she said, “What could I possibly want out of here? A book written in a language I can’t read? Sounds fascinating. Or maybe I was hoping to decorate my walls with sheets of parchment? I’ve heard it’s all the rage.”

She stalked past his desk, and he couldn’t tell if her voice was shaking from fear or fury. “Oh, I know. I decided to move that creepy statue to my room because it’s not enough that my walls and floor are alive. I’d like to be watched by a monster as well.”

“Stop.” He snarled he word.

She took one look at his face and stumbled back a step.

“Don’t move.” Ignoring her, he moved through the study, counting books, rifling through the stacks of parchment on his desk, and opening drawers with sharp, vicious jerks so he could examine their contents.

Nothing seemed to be missing.

It didn’t make sense. Slowly he approached her and leaned in close to study her face. She held herself still—prey sensing that a predator was waiting for one wrong move to attack.

His voice was dangerously quiet. “This room is always locked.”

She lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug and whispered, “The door opened right up.”

His eyes narrowed. “You stole from me.”

She shook her head, her dark eyes filled with trepidation and anger.

It was the anger that threw him off.

She should be quaking in terror, her knees refusing to hold her. She should be begging for mercy, confessions of her wrongdoing spilling from her like blood from a mortal wound.

He gave her a slow, cruel smile. “Shall we search your rooms, then?”

“Fine.” She lifted her chin to stare him down, but her hands were twisted together in a knot.

He took her elbow, fingers digging into her skin, and said, “Your friend Cleo isn’t the only one who will pay the price for your actions, my dear. I saw the way you looked at my new collector. It would be a shame to lose him, but the wonderful thing about you humans is that you just keep breeding. Anyone can be replaced.”

She remained silent as he escorted her up the back stairs, down the hall past Maarit’s closed door, and into the princess’s room.

“Stay put.” He pointed at a spot in the center of the room and then began his search.

Ten minutes later, he’d upended every drawer, tested every floorboard, and checked over, under, and inside every conceivable surface.

He’d found nothing but the books he’d already said she could borrow.

Her arms were folded across her chest, and she glared at him as he tossed the contents of her last drawer aside. “I suppose you expect me to clean up this mess?”