“Strange. Everything’s very bright.” I turned to face him. He was close. Very close. When had he gotten so close? “And you’re very close.”
“I’m stabilizing you.” But he didn’t step back. “The booster can cause disorientation. You need to stay focused.”
“I’m focused.” I was. Too focused. On his face. On the gold tracery along his jaw. On the way he was looking at me like I was something precious he was trying not to break. “You saved me.”
“Don’t think about it too much. I couldn’t just watch you die. You’re far too interesting.” His hand moved from my shoulder to the side of my neck, fingers gentle against my pulse. “Your heart rate is elevated.”
“That’s the booster.”
“Is it?” His thumb traced along my jaw. “Or is it something else?”
I should step back, put distance between us. Should maintain professional boundaries the way I’d been doing for years.
I didn’t move.
“This is a bad idea,” I said.
“Probably.” His voice was rough. “You’re compromised. The booster’s affecting your judgment.”
“I know.” I reached up and touched his cheek. His skin was warm under my fingers. “But I don’t care.”
He caught my wrist. Gently. “Carys.”
My hand was still shaking from the poison. Or the booster. Or something else entirely. “You saw the trap. If he figures out what you did?—”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because we’re going to lie.” His hand tightened on my wrist.
The door’s magnetic seal disengaged.
We sprang apart. Professional distance. Appropriate spacing. Nothing to suggest we’d been standing close enough to share breath.
Tarsus stepped through. He paused in the doorway, assessing. Taking in the scene. The dagger on the bench. My flushed face. Brevan’s careful distance.
“Curator.” He approached the bench. “Your assessment?”
My mouth was dry. The booster was still racing through my system, making every sensation too intense. I could feel Brevan beside me, careful not to touch, letting me handle this.
“Fourth dynasty Nerath,” I said. My voice came out steady despite the chemicals making my nerves sing. “Authentic metalwork. The poison channels are original. The green tint suggests kethril-based toxin, probably from the northern provinces.”
“And the dealer’s claim that it was deactivated?”
“False.” I met his eyes. “The channels still contain active poison. I can confirm that personally.”
He went very still. “You touched it.”
“You ordered me to authenticate it. Authentication requires direct examination.”
“And you’re experiencing symptoms.”
“Minor. Tingling in my extremities. Nothing severe.” The lie came easily. Six years of practice. “The poison is old. Degraded. Not immediately dangerous.”
“I see.” He looked at Brevan. “Mr. Korven. You arrived early.”
“My apologies, Senator. I’m eager to see your collection.” Brevan’s tone was perfectly calibrated. Wealthy buyer, slightly embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”
