Page 28 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

Sweat slicks my palm as I reach for the knife I always wear at my hip but find only the sheath—the very empty sheath. The gardai took everything I had on me.

Shit.

Hands up.I hear Finn’s drilling voice bark in my mind.Curl your fists.I might not have a weapon, but I won’t surrender without a fight.Never take your eyes off your enemy.

If he’s come to break his word, to make sure I can’t betray him to anyone in this castle, then I’ll have to make sure to leave himwith even more scars—warnings to anyone else tempted to trust him in the future.

He might’ve sworn not to kill me, but what proof do I have that he’ll actually keep his word? Old Ones know, if it were me, I’d break any vow if it meant keeping Finn and me safe. Survival matters more than your word.

Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t hate him for making me the fool here.

“We made a deal. You broke it.” I throw the words out like barbs.

He wears a dozen different daggers strapped into the close-fitting sheaths down his ribs, all clearly visible now along the leather jacket beneath his open cloak. A short sword hangs at his left side in the sheath that was empty before, along with a smaller, enviably sharp knife fastened around his right thigh. The Whisperer’s green eyes flash. “Oh no,” he says, rough voice lowering as he prowls toward me. I fight the urge to step back, but there’s no way I’m giving him the satisfaction. “We didn’t just make a deal, you and I. You made me apromise—her life for yours.”

“And then you turned me in,” I accuse, and his answering smirk is all the confirmation I need. “You had the gardai drag me through the streets. They could’ve killed me.”

The figure in the navy cloak barks a rough laugh, and I catch a glimpse of teeth sharpened into fangs. It’s the mage from what must be the rebels’ safe house in the city—the other Whisperer.

Why would either of them risk coming here?

“You were never in any real danger.” He shrugs. “The arrest warrant only named you as a thief, not a traitor. Do you really think we don’t have friends in the gardai?” He nods toward thedoor, where I can only bet the copper-haired guard is waiting on the other side. “Thatguardthat brought you up here? They’re not just wearing that uniform for fun.”

Was that guard watching me the whole way home with the magic in my pocket? I remember the creeping unease, the dread that snaked around my throat. It was so damn easy to brush it off as paranoia at what I’d just done.

I ignored my own instincts.

“You risked my life bringing me here.” Like I’m worthnothing.

“Yes. And I would do it again. This isn’t about you.” He answers without hesitation, and those ruthless dark green eyes scorch me. “I would kill an innocent and swap you in her place all over again just to get you here. Because I keep my promises,” he says in a lethally soft voice. “And you owe me a debt.”

“I don’t owe you anything anymore.” I raise my chin. “Not if you’re trying to get me killed. The Assay is a death trap. Everyone knows it.”

If I can just get out of this room, I can make a run for it… Old Ones, I don’t even know where I’d start, but there has to be a way out of here.

How else could he have gotten in?

The Whisperer tilts his head. His eyes darken on mine. I grit my teeth and fight the shiver building along my spine.

“Now, let me make one thing very clear.” His voice roughens, the edges of each word like a worn blade. “You do, in fact, still owe me a debt. Until I release you, your life belongs to me. That’s the bargain we struck—and either you pay the debt or Finn will.”

Terror wraps around my throat. So much for running away.

“How do you—?”

“Know her name?” He stalks across the space between us. “You think I didn’t know exactly who you were when I gave you that vial?”

I glimpse a small shift behind his dark eyes, as if he’s trying to piece me and where I come from together. A second later, a cold mask replaces the flicker of humanity, and I tense.

The Whisperer leans in another inch. “Have you really never demanded the truth?”

Every word grazes a raw nerve.

I should’ve pushed harder. I should’vemadeFinn tell me more.

How much has she been keeping from me?

The Whisperer’s eyes take in my face, now flushed from the heat. A muscle in his neck tightens. “Or,” he ventures, voice deadly soft. “Maybe you’re just a coward?”