Chapter 12 · The Voice Behind the Gate

"Give me your hand, Calder, or I cut it off and use the blood without you."

Calder Rook stared at the rune-blade pressed under his jaw. Its edge was thin enough to shave sparks from the iron gate behind him. Mara kept her grip steady, even though the magic chain between them had tightened around her wrist until her fingers tingled.

He glanced at the blade, then back at her. "You always ask so sweetly?"

"Only when someone's wasting my time."

"You need me alive."

"For the next ten minutes. After that, I'm flexible."

His mouth twitched. He had blood on his lower lip from the ward that had thrown him into the gate. He looked far too amused for a man one bad move away from losing his throat.

Mara shoved the blade closer. "Stop smiling."

"I'm trying to picture you asking nicely. It's distracting."

"Picture this instead. The city seal is already cracking. If we don't open the gate, the curse spreads through the lower wards before sunrise. Your smugglers, your friends, the children you keep hiding in that cellar—every one of them gets hit first."

His smile disappeared.

There it was.