Author: Kalayna Price

“—Only if you can guarantee Kita will not be subjected to—” Nathanial fell silent as I swept into the parlor. Every eye in the room landed on me as the door clicked closed.

The Collector cocked her head to the side, regarding me with lifted eyebrows. “You come before me covered in blood?

Again?”

“I was attacked,” I said, then added, “under your roof.”

After all, she’d made a point of classifying Nathanial and me as ‘guests,’ so it was her hospitality in question. She’d made a big deal about that with Tatius.

The Collector skewed her lips, and I let my gaze drift to Nathanial. He’d moved to the very edge of his seat, his eyes going black. They darted over me. I nodded to him, confirming I wasn’t hurt.

The Collector turned toward me. “What is your claim?”

Walking to the center of the room, I held up my fist, letting everyone see the dark scales. “Your skinwalker attacked me, and your guard ignored the attack.”

Ronco rushed forward. “She lies, Mistress.”

The Collector’s eyes narrowed. “Elizabeth!”

I cringed as the small vampire stepped forward, expecting her to turn toward me. She didn’t. Instead she walked over to Ronco and took his wrist. Her fangs flashed.

Now the truth will come out.

Everyone waited. I didn’t even breathe. Perhaps I even looked like a real vampire for once. Nathanial rolled to his feet and casually moved to my side.

Elizabeth pulled back, sealing the wound in Ronco’s wrist.

Then she approached the Collector, curtsying deeply. “There is no memory of an attack in his mind,” she said without straightening.

What? I blinked at her. “That’s not possible. He looked at me. He looked at me and then turned around.”

“There is no memory,” Elizabeth repeated.

“A vamp trick.” It had to be. It was the only way. “He saw Akane attack me. He must be covering the memory. He—”

“Silence,” the Collector snapped. “Hermit, your companion’s youth is no excuse for her reckless accusations nor her ignorance. I suggest you keep a tighter leash on her.”

Nathanial’s hands closed on my shoulders, dragged me back a step. I frowned at him. I wasn’t wrong. I knew I wasn’t. It had to be a vamp trick.

“But—” I started.

Nathanial shook his head. He leaned in, and my heart jumped as his lips brushed my ear. “Ronco is a soldier vampire. Soldiers are fast and strong, but their minds are as simple as a human’s. No soldier has ever developed a psychic ability, and Ronco is not even a master. There is no trick. He has no memory of an attack.”

That’s not possible. It just wasn’t.

Elizabeth watched me from the corner of her eye. Dipping lower in her curtsy, she said, “It appears the Hermit’s companion decided to break down the doors of her room. That may explain the blood.”

Of all the mooncursed— “And this?” I held up the scales.

The Collector’s cold glare burned into me. I didn’t back down. Opening my fist, I waved the scrap of flesh. The lights shimmered along the black scales and the dark blood still clinging to my claws.

“Send for Akane,” the Collector commanded.

A door opened. Closed. I waited. Nathanial’s fingers dug into my shoulders. No one said anything. Then the door opened again, bringing with it a fresh wave of snake musk.

My lips curled back as the skinwalker made her way through the room.

She bowed before the Collector. “You summoned me?”

“The Hermit’s companion claims that you attacked her. What do you have to say about this accusation?”

“It is false.”

Yeah, right.

“I have proof.” I tossed the scrap of shredded scales at her feet like I was tossing down a gauntlet.

She stared at the shredded snake skin. “Where did you get that?”

I glared at her. As if she doesn’t know. “It was caught in my claws. When you attacked me.”

Akane turned. Her gaze dropped respectfully as she faced the Collector, but her dark eyes were hard. “Mistress, no,” she whispered.

“You deny the accusation?”

“I can prove it false.” Her hands moved to the length of cloth securing her kimono. She all but ripped the silk, tearing the material off her body. Naked, she lifted her hair, baring her skin for all the room.

The only wound on her body was the old, healing, claw mark on her right shoulder.

“Impossible.” I started forward, but Nathanial tugged me back. How could Akane not have a mark on her? It just wasn’t possible.

Unless there are two of them.

“You are dismissed,” the Collector said to Akane. Then her gaze slammed into me and Nathanial. “Hermit, your companion has falsely—and publicly—accused two of my people. She is also suspected by the human police of murdering a prominent human citizen of Demur. In light of these events, I rescind her guest status. Elizabeth.”

A smile stretched across Elizabeth’s china-doll face. Oh crap.

“No.” I stepped back, but Nathanial was still behind me, and he wasn’t moving. I glanced over my shoulder, begging him with my eyes.

He shook his head, one sharp movement that sliced through my body. His hands remained locked on my shoulders. His expression might as well have been carved from stone. “Do not make this worse,” he whispered. “She will read your memories, nothing more.” His face might have given away little, but I could taste the worry in his words.

“Let us see what truly occurred,” Elizabeth said, reaching for me.

After one last pleading look at Nathanial—which only confirmed that I had to allow this—I swallowed my panic and lifted my wrist. My arms were still covered in the snake’s drying blood, and Elizabeth crinkled her nose, but she said nothing as her fangs pierced my skin.

Nathanial’s tight grip on my shoulders kept me anchored as sensation spread from her mouth through my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the heat building in me.

Then it was over.

Elizabeth stepped away. “Mistress, her mind is strange. I saw no attack—”

What? “Tha—”

She continued, lifting her small, chime-like voice over mine. “I also could find no memory of the scales.”

The Collector frowned. “You are certain? You are a master of peeling away layers of memories. You saw nothing?”

“Forgive me.” Elizabeth ducked, as if the Collector’s disappointment in her failure was a physical weight falling on her shoulders. “I looked, but it is like the scales did not exist before she stormed into the room.” She paused, a hesitation as if she considered a new thought, but her eyes flickered toward me and the edge of her lips lifted. “Or like it was an illusion.”

Crap. Behind me, Nathanial went statue still. I didn’t have to look back at him to know what he was thinking. That little— She was lying. She’d lied about Ronco’s memory, and now she was lying about mine.

The Collector pushed out of her chair. “Remove them from my presence.”

Enforcers surged forward.

“Wait,” I said.

They didn’t.

Jomar rushed at me and I centered my weight. I lifted my hands, flexing my claws.

“Do not fight them,” Nathanial whispered.

The hell? If there was ever a time to fight our way out, it was now.

I swiped at Jomar. He dodged, but the vampire beside him wasn’t quite as fast. I scored a gouge in that vamp’s arm. Not that the injury slowed him. Hands locked around my arms, and I lashed out, kicking, scratching.

“Stop,” a pair of masculine voices yelled in unison.

The enforcers fell back.

I crouched. Waiting. Ready.

The twins walked across the room, the enforcers scrambling out of their way as they approached. I flexed my fingers.

“Sleep.”

The command crashed through my brain, took me off guard. One minute I was watching them approach, and the next there was only darkness.

* * * *

“No, I—” My eyes flew open. The parlor was gone, replaced by a gauzy golden canopy. The bed? Nathanial sat on a chair dragged to the side of the bed. His hands rested on the mattress, as if he’d just released my arm. I frowned at him as I sat up.

“What happened? How long have I been out?”

Nathanial stared at me. His gray eyes were cold, assessing. It wasn’t reassuring. “You have slept only a moment.”

Then why is he looking at me like that? I glanced at the door. Jomar stood outside the busted frame. He didn’t look at us, but I had no doubt he could hear every word spoken. And I wasn’t a guest anymore, so no hospitality laws protected me.

“How much danger are we in? Elizabeth lied about—”

Nathanial’s eyes showed strain, the corners pinched.

“Silence, Kita.”

His tone was hard.

Cold.

“What?”

“There is no memory of an attack.” He was staring at me like he didn’t know me.

Heat rushed to my face. He doesn’t believe me? “She lied, Nathanial.”

He pushed away from the bed, shaking his head.

I followed him. How could he not believe me?

“She lied.”

He rounded on me. His fingers wrapped round my shoulders, but he kept me at arms distance as he stared at me.

“I looked, Kita. I looked.”

Looked? In my mind. I glanced down at my wrist. He’d been there, perched over me when I woke. He’d been riffling through my memories. And he didn’t find anything.

How is that possible?

“Surely you felt the attack? Through our bond. You felt it?”

He released my shoulders. Stepped back. Looked away.

“You have been anxious and on edge since dark fell. You have had spikes of panic several times.” He shook his head. “I do not know what I felt.”

And that was it. He doesn’t believe me. I’d been fighting conflicting compulsions all night, had been tormented by Avin’s call. The attack must have been lost in the mix.