Crescent

19

Vera held Wyn's gaze, the stitches in her ear burning almost as much as her blood. His smile was a force designed to break her, and his invitation was one that dripped with the need to control the situation. If she sat, she submitted herself to his whims. She was done playing into his hands.

"I'm fine where I am," she said. "But if it bothers you that I'm standing in the doorway, I can move a little closer."

"Do what you want." His words teetered with exhaustion as if he was barely holding back a sigh. Still, he kept his predatory glare locked on her, his gray eyes dancing with flecks of magic.

"You should be more careful with your words," Vera ground out, prowling closer. The parlor doors swung shut behind her with the hum of Wyn's magic, but she refused to flinch. "What I want to do is leave. I want to know what happened to Zeno."

Wyn's lips twitched down into a dark frown. "You haven't been subtle about it. The whole house knows what you're after. One thing at a time, Ve." Pushing himself to his feet, he straightened the front of his wrinkled shirt. "I trust Silas has already chewed you out for what you did so I won't pile on. But should you ever pull a stunt like that again—should you ever think to steal what's mine again—there will be hell to pay."

Vera's fist clenched tighter around the key. The cool metal digging into her flesh was sure to leave a deep mark behind. Her heart twisted. Reuniting with Wyn had played out in her head a million times, but in every rendition, he first shut her down for the theft of his gun. In her deluded visions where she returned a hero, he finished with a warm hug, tears spilling down his cheeks as he confessed that he was proud of her and that he could excuse the theft. But here was Wyn, cold and calm as a statue. The flat tone of his voice grated her nerves more than any of his shouts would have, and it pulled sharply on the knife in her back. Wyn was many things, but he was never this collected. Not when his precious shotgun was involved. Not when Vera, his ridiculous little sister, had muddled his life with another one of her half-baked schemes.

"You're taking this better than I thought you would," she muttered, almost afraid that he would finally snap. Though part of her wished he would. At least then she would know what to expect. The Wyn before her now was one she had never seen but that Silas used to shy away from, whispering that his twin was a different person the moment he stepped foot in the council room.

Wyn smiled, but it was wicked in the dim light—a shadow of what was to come. As he bent to scoop up her bag from where it sat on the sofa, the light shifted across his face like a ghost. He rifled through the contents—Vera's jaw clenched—until he pulled the small glass vial from within. Brighter than the dull lanterns, the contents inside shone like brilliant starlight, casting white light across the little room. Wyn tilted the vial so that the thick ichor slid to the side, glittering with iridescent stars.

"Congratulations are in order," he announced, his voice tipping up with pride. "Father gave you this trinket so you could capture the fae-killer's magic after you killed it, and since it's full, I think the truth is obvious. You were successful. You killed the fae-killer, and I'm proud of you for that. Bring this to Father when you get a chance, and he'll help you get your magic. You can finally have what you wanted." His pleasant smile morphed into a wide grin, stormy eyes shining like the lightning that flashed through the clouds behind him. "You can have it all. You've earned it."

His words slithered through her ears, a snake with fangs bared and dripping venom. The stitches crackled, and her breath hitched as she carefully parsed his words. Suspicion wormed through her, burrowing deep into her gut and squirming with nausea.

"What?" was all she could manage to croak, a feeble word that was worth nothing in the fae's grand battle. It was a mere pebble; all it could do was stir ripples across the pond, but that was all she needed now.