Lord Cassius simply smoothed his already perfect blond hair and stepped aside to let Sophie, Ro, and Sandor into his fancy beach house.
He led them to the farthest corner of the property, to a bougainvillea-lined patio facing the ocean, and settled onto the only chair—a chaise covered in worn turquoise pillows.
“I assumed this would happen,” he said as he flicked a speck of lint off his pristine gray cape. “If Keefe had come home with me—”
“He would’ve run off even faster,” Ro finished for him. “Probably left a Keefe-shaped hole in one of the walls.”
Lord Cassius’s lips curled into a smile—but it was a dark, twisted thing. “Such bravado coming from the one whose job was to prevent something like this from happening.”
“Yeah, well, wasn’t it your job to make sure no one did creepy experiments on your son, instead of signing him up for them before he was born?” Ro snapped back. “And while we’re discussing failed responsibilities, shall we acknowledge the fact that it’s also a father’s job to make sure their child feels happy and secure and loved?”
“Is that what your scar displays?” Lord Cassius said, referencing the jagged mark that ran the length of Ro’s spine. “Your father’s love?”
Ro reached behind her, trailing her fingers gently along the rough, raised skin. “You’re right. My father did make this mark. He’s done the same thing to all his most trusted warriors. And when he cut it, I felt his pride, and respect—and yes, I actually did feel his love. Can Keefe say the same about anything you’ve done for him?” She waited for Lord Cassius’s smile to fade before she added, “You elves like to talk about ogres as if we’re these cold, brutal creatures. But I’ve never seen anything as cold and brutal as the way you treat your son.”
Sophie wanted to hoist Ro on her shoulders and parade her around the room—but that would probably get them kicked out of the Shores of Solace.
Still, she hoped Lord Cassius could feel her disgust slashing through the air.
He looked away, staring at the darkening horizon. “How long has Keefe been gone?”
“A few hours,” Sophie told him. “And we’re pretty sure he used your pathfinder when he left, so I need a list of all the places that pathfinder goes.”
“That will be a very long list.”
“How long?” Sandor asked.
“Long. The Council granted me their highest level of clearance. I was one of their top Emissaries—”
“I don’t care if it’s a long list,” Sophie interrupted before he could launch into a speech about the wonder that was him.
“You should. It’s over a hundred cities. And I suspect my son plans to visit each and every one.” He folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Keefe has likely realized by now that his mother surely borrowed my pathfinder over the years without my knowledge, and is hoping he’ll find one of her secret hideouts. He hasn’t accepted the futility of such endeavors. Just as you won’t accept the futility of leaping all over the planet, trying to hunt down a boy who obviously doesn’t want to be found.”
“A scared boy with no idea how to survive in the Forbidden Cities,” Sophie argued. “I can’t believe you don’t—”
She cut her sentence short.
Lord Cassius’s lack of concern wasn’t a surprise.
“So much judgment,” he murmured, trailing his fingers through the air, testing her emotions. “It’s as if you’ve forgotten what you found in my mind.”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
She had unearthed memories that proved he actually did love his son—but they didn’t count. He’d buried the feelings too deep, claiming that love convoluted things.
Lord Cassius sighed. “Affection comes in many forms. Even surrender. Which is why I’m willing to admit that I never have been and never will be able to control my son. No one can. Not even you—though I’m certain you’ll continue to try. You’re even more stubborn than he is. The good news, though, is that my wife might be the most stubborn out of all of you—and she foolishly made Keefe integral to her plan. I suspect it will be her downfall—which would be rather poetic, wouldn’t it?”
It would.
But Sophie wasn’t in the mood to agree with him.
“Do you need me to get you some paper?” she asked. “Or should I just pull the list of cities from your mind?”
She’d meant the second option as a threat. But Lord Cassius flashed another twisted smile and said, “Pulling it from my mind will be much more convenient.”
Sophie glanced at Ro and Sandor.
“Hey, if Lord Creepypants wants to let you dig through his head, I say go for it,” Ro told her. “You can dredge up all his embarrassing secrets!”
“Or it could be a trick,” Sandor warned.
Lord Cassius clicked his tongue. “Need I remind you that we’re on the same side?” He reached under his tunic and showed them the swan-neck monocle he’d received after swearing fealty to the Black Swan. “Your Collective trusts me. Surely you can do the—”
“What assignment did they give you?” Sophie interrupted.
The last time she’d seen Lord Cassius, he’d mentioned an assignment for the Black Swan. But he hadn’t told her what it was.
“If you want me to trust you,” she added, “you should tell me what you’re working on.”
He flicked away more invisible lint. “My assignment is classified.”
“But if you’re inviting Blondie into your head, her super-brain can find out anything she wants,” Ro reminded him. “So there’s no point keeping it secret.”
“Perhaps not from her. But she’s not the only one here, is she?” He bent his knees and slid his feet back toward himself, then motioned to the now-empty portion of his chaise. “You prefer to sit when using your telepathy, don’t you, Miss Foster?”
Sophie stared at the lumpy cushions.
“If you want answers,” he snapped, “and that list—you have permission to enter my mind. Otherwise, you may see yourself out.”
He raised one eyebrow in challenge, and the expression made him look much more like his son—if Keefe was also harsh and cold and…
Sad.
“Fine,” she said, lowering herself onto the farthest edge of the chaise. “But you’re not going to like this.”
“Oh, I’m quite certain of that. And yet, here we are.” He waved one hand in a sweeping, circular gesture, inviting her into his mind.
Sophie closed her eyes and let her consciousness harden into steel—into armor—with just enough edge to slice through his flimsy mental barriers in one quick shove.
Let’s make this quick, she transmitted. I need…
Her words trailed off as she took in the disarray.
Lord Cassius’s mind used to be meticulous—everything carefully sorted and rigidly arranged, as if his head were a stuffy library where no one was allowed to touch any of the books.
Now it looked like an earthquake had crashed through, knocking all the memories to the floor and leaving a sea of jumbled piles, flashing and blaring in full color and volume, like mounds of broken televisions.