The building was pure castle, with stone walls, an enormous fireplace, and massive beams of aged wood. The furnishings were the epitome of pre-Shift ultra-modern luxury. The duality that was Saiman.

Saiman studied me. “Fascinating bone structure…”

His face rippled, the bones shifting and reforming, stretching his skin like it was a rubber mask. When shapeshifters changed forms, it was nearly instant. Saiman took his time, reshaping and fine-tuning. The whole thing was revolting. I’d seen him do it before, so I knew it was coming, but it still made me want to vomit.

“I saw you die,” Derek said. “I was at your funeral. I watched them close the casket and lower you into the ground. Why aren’t you dead?”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed.” His face was still crawling, and his voice sounded distorted.

“Kate mourned for you,” Derek continued.

“I cannot be responsible for her emotional attachment.”

Asshole. He hadn’t changed a bit.

Derek leaned forward, menace rolling off him in a heavy wave. “You let her think you were dead. She saved you.”

“And for that, I am eternally grateful. However, I repaid that favor. I settled my debts before my carefully arranged demise. I don’t owe anything to anyone.”

“They should have put that on your tombstone,” Derek said.

“No, I rather like my stele as it is.”

Saiman’s features finally stopped moving. A close facsimile of me sat on the other couch, wearing my face and Saiman’s clothes. He took a mirror off the coffee table, checked his reflection, and frowned. It didn’t quite match.

“Why did you fake your death?” Derek asked.

“Because there is a great difference between being renowned and notorious. Prior to Roland’s involvement, I was respected for my expertise. I was a businessman.”

A businessman who had charged exorbitant fees for his magic expertise and amassed a fortune in currency and magical items. None of it had helped him in the end.

“After Roland took an interest in my blood, I became a victim, someone to be pitied and rescued. My credibility plummeted. I have no desire to remain a man who couldn’t protect himself, yet I have too many contacts here to pick up and start over. This was a perfect compromise.”

Saiman was an egotist of the highest order, someone who detested altruism in all its forms. He maintained that friendship was a weakness and love was a delusion, a view that let him justify the utterly selfish way in which he lived his life.

The realization that he survived the encounter with my grandfather only because Kate took pity on him was simply too much for him to deal with. Instead of adjusting or altering his philosophy, he had faked his death, run away, and hid here, in this pocket of separate reality.

“I will see the box now,” I said.

The fake me tilted her head, trying to mirror my movements. He liked to shock and keep his opponents off balance. Most people would be uneasy when confronted with an exact replica of themselves, but there were things about me he could never duplicate. No matter how much he tried, he would always be a pale imitation.

“And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” he asked.

“Someone who broke all of your wards.”

“Touché.” Saiman smiled with my lips. “Beauty and power. An attractive combination. Do you have a preference in your partners? A type?”

Ugh.

Derek leaned forward, about to jump over the couch, and I put my hand over his forearm. I had to cut Saiman off at the knees, or this would degenerate fast. My expression snapped into my hard Dananu mask.

Saiman shifted, thrown off balance. It wasn’t my expression alone, it was the transformation from a normal person to Princess of Shinar. It was in my eyes, in the lines of my body, in the authority written on my face.

My voice went cold, suffused with magic. “You forget yourself, j?tunn.”

He tried to match my gaze and squirmed. That’s right. I know your true form. I’ve seen it.

I held my stare. Silence filled the room.

“You mentioned a box?” Saiman raised his eyebrows.

“Time is short, j?tunn.”

“I have a name,” he said pointedly. “And I’m a businessman. If, hypothetically, a valued client entrusted me with an item they wanted sold …”

I tossed a small bag onto the coffee table. It made a clinking sound as it landed.

Saiman reached for it, pulled the drawstrings open, and gently shook the contents out onto the table. Five blood-red rubies as big as my thumbnail clattered onto the glass, each with a six-rayed pale star shimmering on the surface.

“Natural stones mined in Burma.”

Star gemstones took enchantment much better than regular gems. Their magic reserve was significantly larger, and the enchantments lasted longer.

Saiman stared at the two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars on his table. Money was the fastest way to cut through his bullshit, and time was short.

“I’ll see the box now,” I repeated.

He picked up a ruby, looked at in the light, set it down, and walked deeper into the house.

Derek leaned toward me. “You paid him?”

“It’s faster.”

“Or I can put his head into my mouth.”

“That doesn’t seem sanitary. Wouldn’t you taste their hair? Is that just a thing you do because you get bored in Alaska?”