“The grimoire of Antares,” Cadan said.

In an instant, Bastian had drawn a small blade and pressed the tip to Cadan’s throat. The surprise of it sent my heart into my throat, choking off my cry. I didn’t move, as if I thought Bastian were an animal about to strike if I even twitched. But in that moment, staring into his rage-mad face, he looked entirely feral. My brain refused to register what Cadan had revealed was in the satchel. I could only think about Bastian burying that knife in Cadan’s throat. Blood trickled across his skin.

“Bastian!” I cried, staring at the blade in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Do you know what you have done?” Bastian snarled into Cadan’s face. “This book is our future, our survival. You must never breathe a word of it!”

“Bastian,” I said more harshly to get his attention. “Is it worth killing your only son?”

He did not look at me and spoke without hesitation. “It is worth everything.”

Cadan bared his teeth suddenly and shoved his power into Bastian, knocking his father back. Bastian stumbled away, staring at Cadan in shock, as if he didn’t expect Cadan to have that kind of strength. Growling something in his Germanic tongue, Bastian stomped heavily from the room like a child who hadn’t gotten his way. Cadan glared at him, completely ignoring the line of blood pooling into the hollow of his throat. His father disappeared up the stairs and then a door slammed shut so hard the walls rattled.

I sighed a breath of relief and turned my attention to Cadan, whose entire body was shaking where he stood. I put a hand on his arm and inspected the wound in his neck. It had healed, but there was a significant amount of blood on his skin. “Cadan,” I said gently. “Come with me. Let’s clean this up.”

He didn’t resist as I led him toward the kitchens, where several human servants went about their business with their gazes pinned to the stone floor. I dismissed them with a wave of my hand. They never looked directly at any reaper on the premises, but they always watched us in their periphery. I found a bowl and filled it with clean water left over from the servants’ last trip to the well. I dunked a rag into the water and I dabbed the damp cloth to his skin to wipe away the blood from the healed cut.

“Has he always treated you like this?” I asked in a quiet tone.

Cadan gave an ugly, sarcastic laugh. “Like what? Like a misbehaved dog instead of his son?”

I frowned, disapproving of his comparison, but I didn’t exactly disagree. “Has he always been so cruel to you?”

He jerked himself away from me and gaped at me in astonishment. “What did you think he was like? You’re the one sleeping with him.”

“I—” I clamped my mouth shut. His words were a slap to my face. Didn’t I know what Bastian was like? He was sweet to me, generous, attentive … Was I just a terrible fool? I’d been ignoring everything that I knew about Bastian. He was … Bastian. He killed my people and he killed humans. The demonic did not rise in rank through sweetness, generosity, and attentiveness. Tonight he killed an angelic relic guardian—perhaps someone I knew—for the book written by Antares. I was a blind fool.

Cadan exhaled and deflated. The color of his extraordinary eyes dimmed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s none of my business. That was appalling of me to say.”

“No, you’re right,” I said. I covered my mouth with one hand and realized my fingers had gone ice-cold. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What am I doing here?” I asked myself aloud, my voice rapid with panic. “What am I doing with him, with any of you? I’m going get myself killed.”

Cadan watched me, his expression tense. “Do you think he would hurt you?”

I lowered my hand and met his gaze. “Do you?” I asked him seriously.

His brow furrowed as he considered my question. “I don’t know,” he replied. “He treats you differently, but I’m honest when I say I don’t know how long that will last. Are you afraid of him?”

I loved him and I’d never felt threatened by him, but he didn’t make me feel safe. “I ought to be.”

“But you’re not.” It wasn’t a question.

I studied Cadan’s gentle face carefully. What a conundrum he was. “Why are you so sweet then?”

“Maybe you don’t know me either,” he said.

His smart mouth was meant to shut me up, but I could see right through him. “I know you’re a very good actor.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Is that so?”

“Most of what you tell your father is a complete lie,” I said very seriously.

“You read minds now?” He tried to seem casual, keeping hold of his false aloofness, but still he didn’t fool me.

“No,” I replied. “But I read people quite well. Bastian apparently does not. He’s too trusting. He believes those loyal to him are too afraid of him to disobey, though you clearly do. The question is, are you afraid of him?”

He laughed softly, as though the question amused him. “Of course I am. He’s stronger than me by a thousandfold.”

“Are you afraid of everything that can kill you?” I asked him, not amused in the slightest.

“No,” he said. “But I’m not stupid enough not to fear Bastian. I know what he’s capable of and so do you. And I know you’re not stupid, though you are quite idealistic and a bit of a dreamer.”