would soften the moment he could present her with that beautiful land, and then it was only a matter of time until she reversed his exile. He touched his pendant, knowing that each day he remained in this realm, away from Yetting Hill, was another day his forest had to die.
When the forest died, so would he and his sister.
The fading leaf told him it was time to put aside pride. He’d tell the queen he’d learned his lesson. Once home, he could connect with his land and become a proper steward again. He could protect Isindle from the queen’s many small biting cruelties. I can stand up for myself, brother. The memory of his sister’s exasperation made him smile. She was correct. On her own since his exile, and now a full-fledged mage, Isindle was strong enough to deal with the Lilac Court. Yet he was eldest and she would always be his responsibility. Isindle might be a mage, but the girl-fey he remembered was soft-hearted and kind, no match for Queen Tismelda.
Michaela sighed and rose to her feet. “Keep working,” she ordered her team. “I’m going to start talking to the councilors.”
“Good luck,” someone mumbled.
“Thanks.” She swung open the door and left as though Cormac didn’t exist. He shook his head as he followed. It would take more than common rudeness to turn him off his job.
She had no idea what was at stake for him. None at all.
Chapter 4
Michaela eyed Cormac with veiled resentment. It had been a long and tiresome day and having Cormac shadow her every move had not helped. True to his promise, he had stayed out of the way, but his obtrusively unobtrusive lurking had been more distracting than if he had taken part in the interrogations. Every time she’d looked up, she’d been confronted by his bright green, then brown, then dark green eyes watching her every move with a disconcerting intensity, as though he was stripping her to her very soul. She’d done her best to ignore it.
Michaela ran her hand quickly over her hair, tucking in loose strands as she glanced down her list and fixed the neatness of one of the lines. The councilor interviews had been frustrating. To her mind, having to waste time discussing their relationships with Hiro was also useless since she was almost certain she was the intended victim. She’d said as much to Madden after the council meeting.
“He was found in my office,” she’d said. “You know what the Dawning has threatened to do to me.”
“You promised me that our security here was tight.”
“It is, but it doesn’t prevent someone on Pharos from acting on their behalf.”
“Yet you are alive and Hiro is dead,” he’d said. “I need to you to focus on the man who’s dead. It may not be about you.”
As if she was such a narcissist. The stress of running Pharos was getting to Madden. His temper had been short for the last few months and although she’d not commented on his new attitude towards her, it had hurt. For years, Madden had been one of the few people she’d regarded as a compass—wise with experience and generous with advice.
She sighed, suspecting she’d outgrown him as a mentor. Perhaps he knew it too.
She thumbed through her notes as Cormac guzzled down water. Every councilor they had spoken to had an alibi, or an alibi of sorts. Cormac had been seen at breakfast. The witches had been at a Zumba class. One of the werewomen had been with her alpha, while the other had a dentist’s appointment.
“This room is grim,” observed Cormac from his seat near the wall as he put down the empty glass. Michaela had commandeered an empty office space for her interviews. “Like tedium came to life with a career in interior decoration.”
“It’s a meeting room. Cover it with one of your fey glamours if it bothers you so much.”
His arched eyebrows rose high. “We usually only glamour ourselves.”
“Like you did to hide from Nadia?” The young vampire had been furious Cormac had hoodwinked her and had blamed everyone and everything except her own inattentiveness.
He leaned back and crossed his arms. Michaela kept her gaze up and away from the very unprofessional observation of noticing how good his biceps looked. For a lean man, Cormac was impressively muscular. “Is that what she told you? Sorry. She was simply unobservant. It would be a crime to glamour myself. How would people admire me?”
“Arrogance.” Not that it wasn’t well-deserved. Cormac was a very striking male, though his appalling personality negated any attraction his tall body and chiseled features might have had. Or his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. She’d noticed, but that was to be expected. As a masquerada, she always closely observed people’s physical appearance; it meant nothing.
“Truth.” He sat down and settled down in the chair, fiddling with a pen. “We aren’t all thieves, you know.” He sounded amused.
She hid her surprise. “I didn’t say you were.”
Cormac snorted. “Right. You looked at my hands and tapped your jacket pocket. Your keys are safe.”
“How do you know I have keys there?”
“They leave a bulge and jangle. Like a dungeon keeper.” He made a gesture of twisting a key. “You know, we still haven’t discussed your alibi.”
No, they hadn’t. She ignored him and checked her watch. “Rendell is on his way.”
“Rendell is always late. Where were you this morning before you arrived here?”
She was the one in charge, thought Michaela furiously. “None of your business. You may have someone to vouch for you, but I still want to know about your dealings with Hiro.”
He leaned forward. “First you. I repeat: Where were you when Hiro died?”
Michaela smiled and looked him in the eye. “This is not your investigation.”
“Nor is it completely yours. No one will be so crude as to say it aloud, but the reason you have a Watcher is because deep inside their nasty little souls, your colleagues all think you did it.”
“At least they have souls,” she snapped. Not the best comeback, especially since the fey absence of soul was still a matter of debate. You’re getting too involved. Step back. It had been a long time since someone had managed to get under her skin the way Cormac could without even trying.
“Where were you?” His eyes didn’t leave hers and despite herself, Michaela was impressed. Cormac had a commanding presence that made him an intimidating interviewer. She straightened her back. She had faced worse than an exiled fey.
The heavy silence filled the room and Michaela settled herself to wait him out.
“You could be the killer,” he said. “In fact, you are the most likely killer.”
She yawned and paged through her notes. “Tell me about your deals with Hiro,” she said.
“Of course, whatever alibi you could give would be close to meaningless,” he said thoughtfully. “It could be anyone in your masque.”
“You and Hiro?”
“I’ll tell you about Hiro if you give me your alibi.”
Michaela smiled. “So tell me.”
“I had a meeting with him at ten this morning,” Cormac said promptly. “Or would have.”
“What about?” She had to ask even though she doubted his honesty. Cormac could protest against the fey reputation for thievery all he wanted, but no one in their right mind would believe a word out of one’s mouth. They were golden-tongued, renowned liars and storytellers.
“A forest. I was negotiating for the rights to one of his forests in northern Japan.”
“Why?” The fey had plenty of forest. “What made this one so special?”
He shrugged.