Endless Knight(79)

Death had battered some teenager with his gauntleted fist.

When I realized this man was trying to stoke my hatred for him, I yanked my head back. “Is that how you’ll do it to me? Before you take my head, of course. Is that what you’ll do to Lark?”


He said only, “Our play toils on. It’s kill or be killed.”


This game will make murderers of us all. No, I refused to accept that. “It doesn’t have to be that way! What if I vowed on my mother’s soul never to hurt you?”


“How easily those beautiful lips spill lies. Empress, you never keep your vows.”


So I kept hearing. “I’d never break that one.”


He exhaled, seeming like he regretted revealing too much of himself. “It is late, and I’m weary. I take my leave.” He turned toward his rooms.

Another wasted day in the Castle of Lost Time? I needed proximity! I squared my shoulders and followed him into his study. “I’ve figured out why you avoid me. If you get to know me better, it’ll be harder to kill me.”


“You enter here?” He laid his helmet and gloves on his desk. “I’ve warned you. And still you test me.” In a voice vibrating with rage, he said, “But you’d risk anything, would do anything to get back to your mortal. Anything to be in his arms once more. Even endeavoring to get closer to the man you hate above all others.”


“Just wait—”


“Deny that you want to be with him right now.”


I couldn’t make myself deny it. Death was right. I would do anything to return to Jack.

When I didn’t answer, Death looked like something snapped inside, his iron control shattering. “How can you possibly want him? The mortal thinks of your powers as a curse, a problem. You’re a god among humans, but he’s too blind to see that!”


“I look at this as a curse, as a problem. If I weren’t the Empress, then you and I wouldn’t have to be enemies. I’d never have to worry about your sword at my throat.”


“Do you believe yourself in love with Deveaux?” He snarled the words.

As far as my mission to seduce went, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be honest about that.

Between gritted teeth, he said, “It’s emblazoned on your pretty face. But you wouldn’t love him if you truly knew him. Your feelings would wither and die.”


“What are you talking about?”


He headed for his vodka bottle, pouring a shot for himself only. “He’s lied to you repeatedly.” He tossed off his glass, running the back of his marked hand over his lips, then refilled.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Uh-huh. I’ll just take your word for it?”


“No, I received my information from the Fool. He was quite worried about his Empress’s safety when you were in Deveaux’s keeping.”


This was coming from Matthew? No, no, Death was just trying to keep me on edge, to rattle me as I had him. “You know I’ll fact-check.”


“I expect you to.”


I swallowed. “And why would you two be discussing my safety?”


“We had a shared interest.”


“That’s right!” I snapped my fingers. “You wanted to keep me alive, so I could be your wild card. At least before you off me yourself. Now it makes sense why you intervened with the Hierophant. And with the other Arcana, warning them away.”


“I’ve been up-front about my intentions with you, unlike Deveaux. Did you never wonder about his instant infatuation with you?”


“Maybe he had a thing for cheerleaders.” Jack had told me he’d wanted me from the first time he’d seen me. I would never forget that morning. I’d been riding in Brand’s Porsche, leaning over to kiss him, when I’d seen a motorcyclist pull up alongside us. Jack.

Death shook his head. “No, he targeted you before he ever saw you.”


“That doesn’t make sense.”


“You were possessed by someone he hated.” He downed another shot.

“Jack despised Brand. That was no secret.”


“You never asked yourself why?”


“Because Brand was rich and seemed to have everything so easy.”


“I’m sure that had something to do with it. However, the main reason he hated Brandon Radcliffe”—Death’s eyes had never looked so flat and dark—“was that they shared a father. A father who adored one son and spurned the other.”


Dizziness swept over me. “You’re saying Brand and Jackson were . . . half brothers?”


This made a certain sick sense. What was it Jack had told me about his biological father? He was too busy spoiling his legitimate son to spend time with me—or to send a single dime to ma mère.

Mr. Radcliffe had been a lawyer; Jack had said his father hadn’t wanted to admit culpability. Something an attorney might say. I pictured the two boys, both so tall and built, detecting a resemblance I hadn’t noticed before. I remembered how Brand, a well-liked guy, had been baffled about why the Cajun had acted so aggressive toward him.

Only one son had known of their connection.