Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

PIPER

She’d screwed up in the worst possible way, and there was no way to fix it. Her father was missing, her uncle was injured, and she had lost the Sahar. Even if she managed to find her father and reunite with Uncle Calder, her family was ruined. They would be blamed for losing the most valuable, sought-after artifact in daemon history.

And she’d lost it to Micah . That lying, scheming bastard. She hadn’t realized he was using his aphrodesia to mess with her head and lower her guard. She’d thought she would be able to tell if an incubus was enthralling her—like when Lyre had shaded at the Styx. She’d been an overconfident fool to think she could detect subtle daemon magic.

Now Micah had vanished with the Sahar. How was she going to find him? How would she fix this?

“Someone must’ve hired him,” Lyre muttered.

Piper started. The three of them had been standing in silence for several minutes. With effort, she shook off her despair and turned away from the empty night sky.

Ash stood with his back to her. Zwi was perched on his shoulder, her wings tucked tight against her body. Piper hadn’t noticed the dragonet’s arrival.

Lyre rubbed his hands over his face and into his hair. “Who, though? No one from the Overworld would hire an incubus. Who would know that piece of slime has a history with you?”

A history. What a simple, harmless way to phrase it.

Lyre fell silent. Ash was still turned away, his arms crossed and shoulders taut. Piper looked between the two daemons, an uncomfortable feeling prickling through her.

Neither had asked her what Micah had stolen.

Her limbs locked and her lungs tightened until it felt like each breath was scraping against her insides.

“You knew,” she whispered. “You both knew.”

Ash didn’t react to her words. Lyre glanced at her but said nothing.

How many times since they’d escaped the prefects and fled the Consulate had she wondered why Ash and Lyre were sticking with her? Why they’d gone along with her plans and kept so close to a mostly useless haemon girl?

When had they realized she was carrying the Sahar Stone?

Her eyes slid closed. Standing in front of a bedroom door in the Consulate. Zwi perched on Ash’s shoulder with the ring box in her mouth before dropping it into Ash’s palm. His sudden, dangerous tension.

Since then. He’d known she had the Sahar from the very beginning.

But no—it didn’t make sense. If he’d known she had it, why hadn’t he taken it from her? Or killed her and taken it? The fact that he hadn’t was the whole reason she’d been certain he didn’t know.

“Were you waiting for the right moment to steal it from me?” She spoke to Ash’s back, the words harsh and cold. A bitter laugh erupted from her. “You played yourself, didn’t you? You waited too long. Now it’s gone, and we’re all screwed.”

He still didn’t turn.

“Who’s paying you ?” she asked scathingly. “The Warlord of Hades?”

Ash’s back stiffened ever so slightly.

“Were you hired to kill my father and steal the Sahar?” she plowed on. “Is that why you were hanging around the Consulate and scared off the other daemons before the meeting? You missed your chance then too.”

The night breeze whipped her mocking words across the rooftop.

“Piper,” Lyre warned.

She whirled on him. “What about you? Are you also working for Samael Hades? Playing the distraction while Ash steals and kills?”

“Cool it,” he snapped. “You don’t know the whole story.”

“The whole story ?” She laughed again, but the sound held no humor. “Oh, of course, the poor little haemon girl just doesn’t understand how you could’ve been plotting against my father and me from the beginning.”

Ash finally moved. He pivoted toward her, and she braced herself for the coming attack. The Sahar was gone. He had no reason to let her live for another minute.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out. His face was as cold, hard, and lifeless as the photo from her father’s safe. How could she have ever thought he might be trustworthy?

He waited, fist extended. She slowly stretched out her hand. He uncoiled his fingers. Something small and solid dropped into her palm.

A silvery teardrop stone gleamed in the moonlight.

The Sahar.

The real Sahar.

It was too heavy for its size, as though something much larger had been compacted into that tiny silver gemstone. It shimmered, lit from within, strangely magnetic and entrancing.

And she realized it’d been days since she’d touched the real Sahar. The one she’d taped in her bra for her matches in the ring hadn’t been this Sahar. It had been a fake.

Horror crystalized into understanding that shattered into fury.

“You’d already stolen it from me,” she hissed, barely managing not to scream. “You swapped it for a fake. You bastard .”

Lyre looked from her to the Sahar to Ash, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You want to save your father.” The draconian’s voice was cold and flat, empty of emotion. “I need the Sahar. Seems like a fair trade.”

“Don’t pretend you did any of this for my sake,” she spat.

“I’m not. The Sahar is worthless to me if anyone knows or suspects I have it. I want the Gaians to take the blame for its disappearance. You get to save Quinn in the process.”

She opened her mouth, rage and betrayal coursing through her, but she didn’t know what to say.

“This”—Ash jerked his chin toward the Sahar resting on her palm—“changes nothing.”

She wanted to scream that it changed everything. But he was right that they could go to the Gaians’ stronghold, wherever that was, and save her dad. They could ensure the Gaians took the rightful blame for attacking the Consulate.

“Why give me this?” she demanded, curling her fingers around the Sahar. “You’re just going to steal it back again.”

“I can only take it if no one knows I have it.” He turned away. “Stop worrying about the Sahar and worry about your father. That’s what you really care about.”

He strode to the stairwell, leaving her standing at the edge, staring after him.

Fury boiled through her. This whole time, he’d been pretending he didn’t know she had the Sahar. He’d stolen it from her—probably the first time she’d slept—and kept playing along because it worked in his favor. He’d intended to be long gone before she or anyone else realized the stone in the ring box was a fake.

Why had he even been carrying a fake? Had it been part of his assignment—instructions from Samael Hades? But Samael had given up the Sahar. Why send Ash to steal it back?

Her hand shook, the Sahar clutched in her fingers. Her father had removed the Sahar Stone from the vault and secretly given it to her. She’d asked herself so many times why he’d done that. And now she had her answer: because of Ash. Quinn had been trying to hide the Sahar from Ash by giving it to her.

“Piper,” Lyre said quietly.

“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “You were tricking me right along with Ash.”

His eyes cooled to chips of amber ice. “Quit with the self-righteousness already. You were lying to us too.”

She clenched her jaw.

“You aren’t the only one here with something to lose,” he said. “Let’s get this done and salvage what we can. We don’t have any other options.”

Piper watched him stride across the rooftop. Uncurling her fingers, she looked down at the Sahar.

Ash wanted it. He’d given it back to her, but he wasn’t done with it. Would she be able to keep it from him this time? Could she protect it and save her father? How was she supposed to rejoin Ash and Lyre as if nothing had changed?

Her mouth twisted. Like Lyre had said, she didn’t have any other options.