His voice cut off, and I watched the emotion flicker behind his eyes. I was becoming good at reading them. “You want to know if she survived,” I finished for him, knowing I had guessed right when his gaze went elsewhere. “Why were you there?” I asked, almost afraid he’d tell me.

“My father owned the camp. Where else would I spend my summers?”

The cadence of his voice and the slight tightening of his brow told me it had been more than that. A thrill of satisfaction warmed me; I’d found his tell for when he lied. Now all I needed was the same for when he was speaking the truth, and he’d never be able to successfully lie to me again.

“You are as filthy as your father,” I said, disgusted, “blackmailing people by dangling a cure within their reach and making them your puppets. Your parents’ fortune was built on the misery of hundreds, maybe thousands, Mr. Kalamack. And you’re no different.”

Trent’s chin trembled almost imperceptibly, and I thought I saw a shimmer of sparkles about him, the memory of his aura playing tricks on me. Must be an elf thing. “I will not justify my actions to you,” he said. “And you have become very adept in the art of blackmail yourself. I’m not going to waste my time bickering like children over who hurt whose feelings over a decade ago. I want to hire your services.”

“Hire me?” I said, unable to keep my voice lowered as I put my hands on my hips in disbelief. “You tried to kill me in the rat fights, and you think I’m going to work for you? To help clear your name? You murdered those witches. I’m going to prove it.”

He laughed, his hat shadowing his face as he bowed his head and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, feeling foolish.

“You.” His eyes were bright. “You were never in any danger in that rat pit. I was only using it to knock home your current sordid state. But I did make a few astounding contacts while I was there.”

“You son of—” Lips pressed tight, I clenched my hand into a fist.

Trent’s mirth vanished and his head tilted in warning as he took a step away. “I wouldn’t,” he threatened, raising a finger. “I really wouldn’t.”

I slowly rocked back, my knees shaking in the memory of the pit. The gut-twisting feeling of helplessness, of being trapped and forced to kill or be killed, washed through me. I had been Trent’s toy. Him running me down on horseback was nothing compared to that. After all, I had been thieving from him at the time.