Page 57 of This Dark Descent
“It’s what I could get,” she replied.
Rezek’s gaze slid the length of her dress, making her uneasy in a way no one else could. There was nothing carnal about his stare, only the cool, detached evaluation of a hunter before his prey. Then he flipped the paper open, read its contents, and crumpled it into a ball.
“This is worthless.” He lit the edge on fire with a nearby candle and left the remnants to smolder on the marble table.
Mikira’s heart stuttered. “I have to be careful. If Damien realizes what I’m doing, you’ll lose your opportunity to take him down.”
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough.” Rezek curved toward her. “I want something I can destroy him with.”
“I don’t—”
“You do.” Rezek’s gaze flicked to the side, where she could just make out the edge of Damien’s profile as he conversed with someone. “I know him. No matter how much he pretends to cut himself off, he can’t help caring. Which means he’s let his guard down around you, and you know more than you think.”
He straightened. “Find something better, Miss Rusel, or your father will face the consequences.”
“Wait!” Mikira called as Rezek started to merge back into the crowd. He turned back expectantly, and she hesitated. Damien would never give her anything damning enough to satisfy Rezek, and he’d made it clear her next chance was her last. She had to come up with something.
“His ring,” she said, grasping for anything she could. “It was missing for a while.”
It felt inconsequential when she said it, but the words had an odd effect on Rezek. “So it is a fake,” he mused. “He wasn’t lying to me after all.”
“Who?”
Rezek waved a hand. “No one. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Consider our bargain complete.” Then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd, and leaving Mikira off-kilter as his words slowly settled.
Damien’s ring was a fake.
It seemed innocuous. So Damien had lost his ring and made a replica in the meantime. It made sense. If people knew an Adair signet ring was floating about, they’d be looking to use it for themselves. But why not just get another one commissioned?
Unless he didn’t want anyone to know he’d lost it.
She had no idea why that mattered, but she did know that Damien Adair did nothing without a carefully considered reason. Rezek would use this against him somehow, and it would be her fault.
She buried her face in her hands. “What have I done?”
She didn’t know when she’d begun to care about Damien, but she did,the same as she did Ari and… and Reid. Because she did care for Reid. More than she wanted to admit. And betraying his best friend, betrayingher friend, was wrong. But leaving her father to suffer at Rezek’s hands was impossible, and she’d had to dosomething.
“Well, aren’t you friends with interesting people,” said a voice at her ear. She spun, coming face-to-face with the girl from the tunnel race, her Skylis half mask fitted firmly in place.
She wore an ice-blue dress suit that clung to her lean, muscular frame. A sleeveless, jacket-like bodice tapered over a cobalt pair of pants, cinched at the waist with a gold rope. Her hair fell around her deep bronze shoulders in warm waves, several intricate braids running back from the crown of her head, and a dusting of gold powder around her eyes sparkled in the enchanted light.
“You,” Mikira breathed.
The girl smirked. “Me.”
“Who are you?”
A strange look flickered across what she could see of the girl’s face. Then the smile was back, and she dropped into a melodramatic bow.
“Quinn Falar, Illinir jockey of House Ruthar.”
“I’ve never heard of you.” Mikira followed the races closely, knew everyone there was to know. She hadn’t even seen Quinn in the tunnels before that night, and Jenest was militant about who she allowed in.
Quinn straightened. “You just did. And now that we’re acquainted, I believe the next dance is about to start.”
“What?”
But Quinn had already seized her hand, dragging her through the crowd and onto the dance floor.
