Page 171 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“As I said.” Atreus flashed a grin in my direction, eyes alight with mischief. “Intrigued is an understatement.”

“Don’t mind Cujo. He’s convinced everyone wants to kill me.” I patted Carr on the chest, earning something like a growl.

Am I wrong? Carr bit out down the line.

Rude.

But accurate.

Is Cyrus okay? I asked, guilt twisting my stomach at the memory of his glower when I’d ordered him to stand down and stay back.

Your mate? he all but snarled into my mind, and I fought the need to wince at the bite. He’ll survive.

Atreus brushed something from my shoulder. “Would you like a tour, beautiful?”

“Christ,” Carr grumbled, only seeming more aggravated when we paid him no heed.

“As eager as I am to get eyes on Cadoc’s treasures, our time is limited. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

“I fear my father likes to arrange a bit of a performance. Dinner won’t be ready for another thirty minutes. If we take cocktails on the terrace, I’m sure Viktor will join us.”

My gaze flicked to Carrson, who gave an irritated shrug. Don’t look at me; this whole thing is bullshit.

I glanced at Jo, who took slow strides along the foyer windows, no doubt confirming where Cali had taken up her perch. Feeling my eyes on her, she tossed her rich brown plait over her shoulder, gaze snapping to mine.

The shadows sense nothing, she reported diplomatically. Let’s get this over with.

“What the hell? Let’s take a tour,” I said, mustering every ounce of sweetness in my arsenal.

“Just the enthusiasm every man dreams of,” Atreus said dryly, his grin widening as he extended a hand. I swallowed hard enough he had to hear it, but fought back the recoil. My gaze flicked over his shoulder toward the posted sentinels. With one breath to steady my mutinous nerves, I forced on a smile and accepted. Only once we were beyond his guards, with mine several paces behind, did he give my hand a little squeeze. “Why the hesitation?”

“I’m not known for being an affectionate person.”

“We are considering a marriage, are we not?”

“That we are,” I exhaled, the words like acid in my mouth. I ran my tongue over my teeth as if I could scrape the taste away and kept pace down the rustic hallway. Bronze placards marked the doors on either side. Framed black-and-white portraits hung evenly between them, and my attention went straight to the faces.

“You seem less than pleased.”

“That a so-called king requires an archaic bloodline alliance to do what is right? You don’t say.”

He laughed, and goddammit, that was a dimple in his cheek. Nothing about this man screamed ‘assassin.’ “Gotta appreciate your transparency. Are you always this honest?”

I grinned back at him, arching a pointed brow.

“Am I to take that as a no?”

“I fear my reputation would contradict the claim if I made it.”

“Hmm,” he breathed as we finally reached the end of the hallway. “Fair enough.”

One zigzagging stairwell. Three doors. One probably led to a supply closet. The fogged glass door on the left bore a ‘pool and spa’ sign; the one on our right opened onto an enormous covered stone patio enclosed by wrought-iron balustrades. Twinkle lights hung from the rafters as Atreus motioned me into the sticky summer humidity. Sunset out here had to be stunning.

For as abrasive as Cadoc had been in our one meeting, his son was the opposite—or doing a damn good job playing the role. Waitstaff approached in white button-downs, black ties, and black pants. Atreus caught up, swiped two martinis from a tray, and presented one with enough flourish to make me laugh.

“There she is,” he said smugly as I accepted the glass with no intention of drinking. “Knew I’d get you to crack eventually.”

I shook my head and, before I knew it, took a sip. Fire burned down my throat. A cough burst out of me, and I hurried to wave off Carr, who was already advancing as if I’d been attacked.