Chapter 31 · The Gilded Tongue

"Stop pretending you're a victim, Alice. It doesn't suit you."

Silas's breath was hot against my ear. He didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his grip, pinning me flat against the cold stone wall. Down the hall, the shouts of the Imperial Guard were getting closer.

I glared at him, chest heaving. "Get off me. Now."

"Or what?" He leaned in. Cedar and metal—blood. He smelled like a crime scene. "You'll lie again? Tell me the key is gone while you're practically vibrating with the secret of where it is?"

I wrenched my arm. Nothing. He was a vice. He shifted, his thigh pressing firmly between mine, cutting off any room to move. Suffocating. He wasn't just the High Inquisitor; he was a predator who'd finally found something worth hunting.

"I don't owe you anything," I spat.

"You owe me the truth," he dropped an octave. "And maybe, if you're lucky, I'll let you keep your tongue after I find out who you've been selling secrets to."

I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "You're obsessed, Silas. It's pathetic."

He didn't flinch. He just smiled—a slow, dangerous curve that never hit his eyes. "Obsession is just another word for thoroughness.