Page 94 of Reap & Sow

She was thrown violently back into the past. A dark bedroom, a mysterious smile.

All will be well.

You promise?

I know it.

“The girl has made a Pact with the same demon you seek,” Fane said. “He will return to her side, you see? I have found him.”

“Yet she is the one who called me here.” Mr. Night’s eyes slid sideways. “Not you.”

The bishop flexed his jaw. Behind him, his men had retreated beyond the threshold, round-eyed. “What matter her intentions? Perhaps she called upon you to beg for her sorry life.”

“I think not.” Mr. Night stared at Eda’s red cheek. “Release her.”

The two men holding her arms did so. Eda rubbed her neck where the mantle had been ripped away. The words rose up her throat like a blistering wind: “How could you betray us?”

The mausoleum echoed with her rancor. All seemed surprised by the accusation save the accused himself.

Mr. Night was unmoved. “I have not.”

“The Blades took Ben and Lawrie, almost took me. You didn’t even try to stop them!”

“I have never interfered before.”

“You gave me away in the cellar!”

“You revealed yourself.”

She clenched her fists upon her thighs, wishing to strike him. “We’ve spent years protecting the mirror, bringing you marks. We were supposed to have your protection in return.”

“You are protected…from me.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I shall lift no hand against you while you remain in my service. Florian Fane is not permitted to kill you or your brothers, either.”

“He set your fiends on Lawrie.”

Mr. Night’s mouth tightened. “Did he?”

“That was an accident,” Fane hurried to explain. “A mere flesh wound was all that came of it.”

“He’s sick,” Eda snapped. “He might lose his leg!”

“Pray to your false god that Lawrence Shaw recovers, Bishop. If he dies, our agreement is forfeit.”

Fane paled. Mr. Night ignored him in favor of sliding a finger beneath Eda’s chin. With those silver eyes and that snowy waterfall of ice-melt hair, it was easy to think him and Kit totally dissimilar. But now that she knew to look, there were things that marked them as half siblings: The bows of their mouths, the fine brows, the sharp jaws. The true color of their eyes.

“Eda.” His expression softened, the picture of solemnity. “You misunderstand. Have I not always been honest with you? Have we not always shared our truest selves? I am what I am—you have always known it. My nature demands I feed my endless ambition. Florian Fane has caused your troubles, not I.” He cocked his head. “I had no fear for you. You are not like the rest: craven, unthinking, made reckless by greed. If anyone could rise against impossible odds, it was you, sweet thing. And look! Here you are. So close to having beaten the bishop at his own game.”

A vein in Fane’s forehead twitched.

Eda stopped breathing when Mr. Night leaned close, pressing his nose to her hair. “Even if it meant employing the aid of my kin to do it.” His grip on her chin hardened. “I can smell him all over you.”

She stayed very still. “Kit—Kit’rath agreed to help get Ben and Lawrie free. The Pact between us is done.” She did not speak of the mirror.

“Is that so? My brother pretends to admire humanity for more than their years, but he took yours happily enough, didn’t he?” He brushed his lips against her ear. “Did he smile for you? Make you laugh? He always was rather charming.”

Eda swallowed.

“Kit’rath may be done with your Pact, but not with you. Will he come, I wonder? Will he face me for your sake?” He stood, smiling. “I doubt it.”