“I lifted it when we were trying to get into the kitchen. Rachel, I don’t trust him. Anything he took was going to be more valuable than a picture so new that the canvas could roll up that easily.”

I frowned, thinking I must look really stupid.

“Especially one that still stank of oil,” Jenks added, doubling my shame.

“He lied,” I said, feeling depressed. “He lied to me. I’m so stupid.”

From the little receiver came a high voice, shouting, “This isn’t my fault!”

Trent’s voice made me shiver. “Make yourself comfortable, Sparagmos. I won’t be crossed like this. Morgan, at least, has values.”

He thought I had values? My focus blurred and I thought about the Pandora charm. Had it been an accident? Maybe Trent just wasn’t that good at magic.

The sound of a distant door opening was heralded by the sudden office noise and Quen saying, “It’s gone, Sa’han. This was left in its place.”

“My father’s hoof pick …,” Trent said, his shock obvious.

“I don’t understand,” Quen said. “You lost that—”

“Morgan has the statue,” Trent said, interrupting him. “Sparagmos took it, intending to keep it, and somehow Morgan got it. I don’t know how the pick fits into it.”

My eyes closed, and I prayed he’d figure it out before he sent Quen to kill me.

“This is going to be a problem,” Quen said softly, and then louder, with some authority, “What is Rachel going to do with it, Sparagmos?”

“Give it back to you—ow!” Nick barked, then went silent.

There was a moment of silence, and then I shivered when Trent said, “Give him to Jonathan. He likes this kind of thing.”

“Hey!” Nick said, and I heard him being dragged away. “I thought I had it! You’ve got to believe me!”

“Oh, I believe you,” Trent said, distance between them now. “I also know you were going to sell it if you managed to get out of here alive. I doubt Rachel picked your pocket. It was probably Ivy. She’s got a good friend there.”

I glanced at Ivy, who wouldn’t look at me, eyes fixed on the dark night. “I’ve got two good friends,” I whispered, and Jenks’s wings clattered.