—You’re in my eyes.— Matthew showed me a live vision. Through his gaze, I could see the interior of a run-down house, could see Jack there. God, I missed him!

His expression wild, he punched his fist through a plaster wall, then swung around to turn over a table stacked with maps. Even through the vision, I could feel his frustration, would give anything to ease it.

He stormed up to Matthew. “You know where she is, coo-yôn!” he bellowed at the boy. “Doan tell me different. You’ll find her, just like you did in Requiem.”

Matthew turned his head to show me Selena and Finn sitting in silence, as if waiting for this to blow over.

As if used to it.

I noticed Jack wasn’t drinking, and that departure from his normal behavior concerned me as much as everything else I was seeing.

He raked his hand through his hair. “Why woan you help me, boy? I told ma fille I’d be coming for her.” My girl. When his gray eyes misted wet, my heart lurched. “What the hell is he doing to her?!”

Matthew, you haven’t told him I’m safe! Do it now!

—Won’t lie.—

Another worry to put on the heap of them. But for now, all I could think about was Jack.

Voice gone raw, he asked Matthew, “Is that bastard . . . is he hurting her?”

Tell him I’m fine, just passing time until the storms end! Tell him I’ll meet up with you in a couple of weeks. Please, please don’t make him suffer like this.

Jack looked like he would go insane if this went on for much longer. Which put an even more pressing clock on my mission to win over Death.

Matthew, please, I’m begging you to help Jack.

—He’s tempted to beat your location out of me. But you asked him to keep me safe.—

I thought you couldn’t read Dee-vee-oh well.

—Doesn’t take a Fool to foresee this! Jack Deveaux talks with fists.—

You sound almost admiring.

—Jack is . . . unexpected.—

Unexpected? That was something for a psychic to say. Even I didn’t know what Jack would do if his back was against the wall.

And it was. Which meant mine was too.

—Work on the Reaper, Empress.—

The man hates me. I can rarely even get into the same vicinity.

A couple of days ago, I’d hit my limit with everything—being a captive, missing Jack and Matthew, even Finn and Selena. And I’d been fed up with this place. It might have all kinds of luxuries, but no one laughed here, no one conversed or joked. It was like a giant tomb.

Fitting.

So I’d ignored Death’s threats—and dire warnings about his privacy—and marched down to chew him out. Or seduce him. Whatever.

Before I could ever reach his off-limits rooms, Cyclops had nipped my heels and tripped me over and over until I’d given up.

Later I’d told Lark, “You’ve got to call off your wolf.”

“So you can go snag a paring knife and cut on yourself to remove your cuff? Lemme get right on that. Besides, the wolf isn’t just there as a jailor.”

“Because I need protection from Ogen?” He’d had another fit midweek.

“Do you think you don’t need it. . . ?”

—Death wants Life.— Matthew said. —Proximity, seduction, freedom.—

At that moment, I saw the Reaper leading his horse into the barn. He’d be in the manor in minutes. Do as I ask, Matthew! I sprinted down the steps and along the corridor, barreling into the great room, Cyclops padding behind me.

I was still out of breath when Death strode in, tall, pumped, gorgeous. He was swiping off rain with a towel, his torso muscles contracting in a stunning display.

He scowled to see me, then turned toward his rooms.

Undeterred, I tried to match steps with him. “Is today the day you’re going to kill me?”

“Not yet, creature.”

“Just so you know, boredom’s already chasing me around with a scythe.”

Had one corner of his lips curled? The closest Death came to a real smile? “I still gather information for my decision.”

“What do you expect me to do all day?”

“Avail yourself of the library.” Arching a brow, he said, “Improve your mind. Learn to speak S.A.T.”

His clever comeback was surprising. I thought this might be . . . teasing. From Death.

Then I remembered his comments about my “banal and tedious” thoughts. He genuinely found my mind lacking. “For the record, I was a straight-A student for my entire life.” At least until Matthew’s visions had mentally hamstrung me.

Death gave a scornful laugh. “Your entire life? And how old are you, little girl? Fifteen?”

I bit out, “Sixteen.” God, he had a way of getting under my skin! “Why are you always training? It’s not like you need to get better at killing.”

He stopped before me. “Perhaps it keeps my mind off other things.” His gaze raked over me.

Flirting?! Unused to this side of him, I asked, “And why can’t you think about those things?”

“Ah. Now the seduction starts. Right on schedule. You can’t even help what you are.”

“What does that mean?”

He continued forward. “I’ll be on my guard, which means I will retaliate if you come close to me again.”

“Why do you separate yourself from me? Matthew told me you were thinking about keeping me . . . around. Maybe you’ve always planned it. When you got this property ready, you prepared that room in the turret with me in mind, didn’t you?”

“You are not a long-term acquisition, I assure you.”

Chilling. This man could steal into my bedroom anytime he wanted and behead me. Before, I’d been more concerned about Jack and Matthew. Now I feared for my own life as well. “Then why let me live for this long? Why bother with me at all?”

“Understand me, creature, I never stop playing the game. Keeping you is strategy. You are a wild card, as it were. As long as the Empress is alive, the other Arcana believe they have a chance to defeat me. They grow bolder with me.” He flashed that unsettling look of his. “I like them bold.”

“What does it matter?” I asked as we passed the gym. Lark peeked out, tilting her head with curiosity.

“At your demise, many would scatter across the land. They’d believe—rightly—that they have no shot against me. Which makes my job much more difficult. I enjoy the comforts of my home; I do not wish to stray far from it. Nor do I wish this game to drag on longer than it must. If fortune is with me, some Arcana might even descend on this place to rescue you, my poison princess in the tower. My alleged sole weakness.”

Beware the lures. Now I was one. “Alleged?”

“I have no weaknesses. Know that when you’ve served your purpose, you’ll be dispatched just like all the others.”

Yes, chilling. “So according to that line of thinking, you’ll keep me alive as long as there are cards out there?”

“Unless you do not settle in here. As I said, I enjoy the comforts of my home. This is my sanctuary. Do anything to adversely affect that, and you’ll be dead before your next breath. That is the information I gather: will you endure your time here seamlessly?”

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.”

“This is you being soft?” My thoughts flickered back to Death looming at the end of that mine, more fearsome than his Grim Reaper tableau. “What would have happened if I’d stumbled on him?”