Despite her longing, Deah didn’t take the rose. Instead, she shook her head and stepped back. Her eyes dulled and dimmed, and that hot spark was snuffed out.

“You should leave,” she said in a sad, tired voice. “This is never going to work. Not with you being a Sinclair and me a Draconi. You should go before one of the pixies sees you—or worse, Blake or my dad. Maybe it’s a good thing that Katia’s back in town. So we can make a clean break now, before things get any worse than they already are.”

Felix’s smile wilted, and he dropped the rose to his side. “You don’t mean that. Not really.”

Deah shrugged, her face blank. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does except the fact that my father and brother hate your Family. There’s no getting past that, Felix. No matter what you think.”

“But—”

“No,” she said in a firm voice, shaking her head and making her blond hair fly around her shoulders. “Don’t tell me again that nothing matters but us. That’s not true and you know it. Too many other things matter. And how we feel about each other isn’t one of them.”

Felix kept staring at her, his eyes dark with hurt, pain, love, and longing.

Deah sighed again. “Just leave, okay? And don’t come back. That’s what’s best—for both of us.”

She turned to go, which spurred Felix into action. He dropped the rose, stepped forward, pulled her into his arms, and planted his lips on hers.

Deah stiffened, her hands coming up to his chest as though she was going to push him away. But then, her fingers curled into his shirt, and she swayed forward and melted into the kiss. Her arms snaked up and around Felix’s neck so that she could pull him closer. They broke apart and stared into each other’s eyes, both of them breathing heavily.

Then they kissed again, as close together as two people could possibly be, their lips crashing together again and again as though their lives depended on it.

Guilt flickered in my chest at spying on such a private moment—along with more than a little jealousy. I wished I could kiss Devon like that. Hold him like that. Or that I just had the courage to tell him how I really felt about him, to take a chance and see what might happen between us.

But I pushed aside my feelings and turned away from Felix and Deah. I still had a job to do, one that was far more important than hiding in the shadows mooning about Devon.

Because if I didn’t figure out what Victor was planning, he would destroy us all.

I slipped deeper into the greenlab, careful not to make any noises that would alert Felix and Deah to my presence. But they were too wrapped up in each other to notice the whisper of my sneakers on the flagstones, and I left them behind and reached the far side of the greenlab.

I peered through this set of glass doors, but the hallway beyond was deserted, so I stepped outside and hurried on my way. I rounded the corner and finally reached my destination—the double doors that led into Victor’s office.

The gold knobs were shaped like snarling dragons, and I gingerly tried one, half expecting it to come to life and bite off my fingers. Of course, that didn’t happen, but the door was locked, so I pulled out my chopstick lock picks and went to work. Less than a minute later, the door snicked open. I waited, listening for noise and movement on the other side of the wood, but I didn’t hear anything, so I felt safe enough to slip inside, shut, and relock the door behind me.

Lights burned in the office, which was easily twice the size of the Sinclair library. And just like with the rest of the castle, gold glimmered everywhere I looked, from the pillows on the couches to the trim on the furniture to the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Shelves took up two of the walls, filled with books, photos, and trophies. I spotted two gold cups with Deah’s name engraved on them, proclaiming her as the winner of the Tournament of Blades. I wondered why they were in here, instead of her bedroom, since she was the one who’d earned them, not Victor. I snorted. Then again, he probably considered them his trophies, since she was his daughter and a member of his Family. Sometimes, I didn’t know which I hated more—Victor’s cruelty or his ego.

I scanned the rest of the shelves, my greedy little heart wondering how many precious things I could stuff into my pockets and how much cold, hard cash Mo would give me for them. I particularly admired a set of diamond-crusted dragon bookends. But I forced myself to keep my sticky fingers in my coat pockets where they belonged. I didn’t dare steal so much as the smallest knickknack. Not from Victor and especially not from his office. Swiping those bookends would tip him off that someone had been in here, and that was the last thing I wanted.

So I hurried over to Victor’s desk, which was close to another wall. It was three separate sections joined together in a U shape and featured your usual office setup—laptop, mouse, keyboard, phone, a couple of reading lamps. I’d just reached for the laptop to wake it up when a spark of red caught my eye.

I looked up into the face of a dragon.

I staggered back against a corner of the desk, making a cup full of pens rattle-rattle, and I had to clamp my lips together to keep from shrieking. After a few sweaty, heart-pounding seconds, I realized that it wasn’t an actual dragon staring at me, just one that had been carved into the white stone wall behind Victor’s desk.

It was the same snarling dragon crest that was on everything else, the biggest I’d seen in the entire castle, but this dragon’s head was turned to the side, with a fist-size ruby for an eye embedded in the stone. Flames curled all around the dragon, and its head and the ruby eye were particularly prominent, as if the creature continuously peered over the shoulder of whoever sat at the desk. I shivered and dropped my gaze from it.

I focused on the desk again, starting with the left section since that’s where Victor’s laptop was. I jiggled the mouse and made the screen flare to life, but the laptop was password protected. I tried a few combinations, like Blake’s and Deah’s names, but nothing worked, so I moved on, scanning through all the papers on top of the middle section of the desk: invoices, contracts, shipping orders. The same sort of stuff that Claudia had on her desk—all the things that dealt with the Families’ business interests. Stuff that would tell me nothing about what Victor was planning.

Still concentrating on the left and middle sections, I opened and closed all the drawers, scanning through the items inside. There were more papers, along with pens, staplers, and rolls of tape. Nothing interesting, but I still made sure to put everything back exactly where I had found it. I didn’t want Victor to even think that someone had been in his office, much less rifled through his desk.