Rook ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek. He tasted no blood. The girl’s blow had been heartfelt, but not heavy. He smiled thinly at her. If only he could close his sight to her aura. The flickering, elusive light it hid within taunted him. He smiled thinly.

“What I will do,” he said quietly, “Is teach you how to behave.”

Her nostrils flared and her spine stiffened. If all he’d been able to see was her face, he might have thought her furious and unafraid but her aura betrayed her fear.

“You cannot be Tynan Amaya,” he said.

“I am Vision,” she told him, lifting her chin.

“No,” he snapped, “You are not. Look around you. Think. Does this look like a slum? A brothel, perhaps? No? A street name will not do.”

“You cannot change who I am,” she hissed, “You will answer my questions. I –”

He lifted his hand into the air and tugged lazily at her aura. She choked as she found that her voice was, temporarily, not hers to command.

“Do you not understand that the king had you in his possession?” he asked, “That he would have bled you, used you to secure an eternity of his mad reign and then locked you away like a forgotten trinket? I have saved you from this fate.”

She glared back, little hampered by her lack of words. He sighed.

“You believe me to have an ulterior motive. That is not unwise. Rest assured that although I am sure I will find some use for you, taking you was much more a personal sacrifice than a benefit. Leave me now, I won’t suffer your ungracious attitude.”

He clicked his fingers, simultaneously touching Selene’s aura, gently. Summoned, she reappeared moments later and escorted his new guest downstairs. He had been loathe to bring a new servant into his home – he was present little enough that it was difficult to justify keeping Aden as it was – but Malone had insisted on a woman being present to help the girl. Irked as he’d been, she was proving to be useful. Rook felt quite certain that Tynan would have resisted an escort from Aden.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. It held no answers. The day before, the idea of stealing Tynan Amaya from the king had been tantalising. He was a patriot, but he had long been of the opinion that the less time Bryant’s arse sat the throne, the better. To humiliate the fool king as he took away his chance of eternal life had been only all the more appealing because Tynan was a powerful mage in her own right. He had thought to introduce her to his cabal, as Abrianna had called it. Now that he had succeeded, he wanted her gone; but it was beyond him to be rid of her now. That little, mocking, untouchable piece of her aura would not allow it. It was part of him, which was a problem he did not know how to solve. It was a part of his soul. He did not know what would happen to him, now that he was without it, and she holding it. He had tried to reclaim it the second he’d felt it tear from him, as he pushed her into her new vessel.

He had discovered a new rule of necromancy: a man could not touch his own soul. He was, quite literally, stuck with the woman… for now.