“I want to know who you are.”

“Mychael Eiliesor.”

“A name doesn’t tell me who you are.” I stood there, looking up at him, trying to see beneath the surface. I was bonded to the man and I still didn’t know who he was. I had seen the avenging angel that he was inside. But the armor hadn’t gleamed and his robes hadn’t been white—maybe they had been that way at one time, but they weren’t anymore. They were singed, dirty, and bloodstained. Mychael Eiliesor had fought a lot of battles against others—maybe even against himself.

And in every last one of them, he’d done what he had to do.

An hour ago on the Red Hawk, he’d promised to do the same thing.

For me.

“Mychael, you’ve said that I can trust you with my life. I can do that—and I have done that.” I paused. “But I need you to be willing to trust me with yours.”

He crossed the small room to an armoire in the corner, opened it, and pulled out an exact copy of his paladin uniform. He began unbuttoning his leather doublet. “Justinius contacted me about four years ago and said he needed me as paladin.”

“ ‘Contacted’? Sounds like one of Markus’s agency terms.”

“I’ve never worked for the agency.”

“Who, then?”

Mychael took off the doublet and tossed it on the bed next to my cloak, quickly followed by his shirt. He half turned toward me. His arms and chest were sculpted with muscle, his shoulders broad. I knew this; I had seen the man virtually naked just a few days ago. Hell, I’d been in bed with him. But I still looked and couldn’t look away, and the urge to close the distance between us and let my fingers explore that smoothly muscled expanse was almost too much to resist.

Almost.

I needed answers, not a distraction. Focus, Raine.

“Who did you take your orders from?” I asked.

“I reported only to Queen Lisara’s father.”

“Do you report to the queen now?”

“No.”

Retired, then. Or at least on inactive status. And he couldn’t exactly be paladin of a politically neutral military order and take orders from the elven queen. Well, he could, but one thing I did know for certain was that Mychael Eiliesor would never split his loyalties.

“You were in the army?”

“For a while.”

I started doing the math. “You’re a highly skilled warrior who can use your voice to make almost anyone do anything; you can heal yourself; you can veil and glamour like nobody’s business, pretending to be anyone and conning your way into and out of sticky situations—then there’s the talents I haven’t even seen yet. No doubt the old king found your services invaluable.”

“I was adequately compensated.”

I’d heard of them, the men and women who reported only to the old king. Officially, they had no name, though they were called Black Cats by certain criminal elements who had the misfortune to come into contact with them. And since my last name was Benares, I’d heard the term more than once. Like a black cat in a dark alley, you might catch a glimpse of one, but before you could blink, it was gone. Black Cat operatives were trained to do what was needed, where it was needed, and to whom it needed to be done. They operated where the law couldn’t go or reach. They were never seen, never heard.

Never known.

Until now.

“A Black Cat,” I said simply.

Mychael arched a quizzical brow at me. He didn’t deny it. That was as close to a direct admission as I was likely to get.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the name,” I continued. “And I know the reputation. Legendary. So by being paladin, you’re just playing another role, albeit for a different boss.”

Mychael sat on the side of the bed and began removing his boots. “I am the paladin in every way that the law and my duties dictate. With the deteriorating political state of affairs on Mid during the past few years and the Saghred resurfacing, Justinius needed someone who could work within the law, but also knew how to work the system.” He pulled one boot off and tossed it aside. “Unfortunately, the law can’t solve all problems, and people like Carnades and Taltek Balmorlan are quite adept at circumventing it. Justinius asked me to serve as paladin because he needed someone he could trust to work cleanly outside of the system.” His second boot joined the first.

“Cleanly meaning not getting caught.”

Mychael stood, unhooked his belt, and began unbuttoning his trousers. He grinned at me. “At least not getting caught with my trousers down. Would you prefer to turn around while I finish changing?”

I shook my head. “I can safely say that I’ve seen everything you’ve got. So I’ll stay right where I am and keep getting answers.”

He dropped his trousers and I tried to keep my jaw from doing the same thing.

“I . . . uh . . . Dammit, I forgot my question.”

Mychael’s eyes sparkled. “I’m also an expert in avoiding interrogation.”

Black Cats were experts at vanishing into the night. I didn’t want Mychael doing the same to me.

But I also didn’t want Mychael getting killed because of me.

“How much longer will you stay here as paladin?” I tried to make the question sound matter-of-fact, but my voice sounded kind of small even to me.

“Raine, I’m not going anywhere. My job here is far from finished.”

“But let’s say you did need to leave. I mean, if you had to . . . I want you to know that . . . well, that I would understand.” I forced out a little laugh. “I know some kick- ass mages, and I could always call in more of my family. Some of them are crazy enough to take on anything.”

Mychael had pulled on his gray uniform trousers. His feet and chest were still bare. He padded over to me and put his arms around me, pulling me close. Words couldn’t describe how good that felt.

“You don’t need to call anyone,” he murmured against my hair. “We’re going to take care of this together.”

I took a slow breath and let it out against his chest. Just say it, Raine. “Mychael, you’re in enough danger without feeling obligated to me.”

He loosened his hold so he could see my face. “Ob ligated?”

“You feel responsible for getting me into this and now you feel obligated to get me out.”

“Raine, I don’t—”

“Please, let me finish. I’m poison to you. If Nukpana or Balmorlan . . . or hell, even if Carnades manages to bring me down, I won’t take you with me. I don’t know how I’ll stop them, but I’ll do what I have to.” I put my hands on his chest, keeping the distance between us. “Please . . . please, don’t take any more chances with your life because of me.” My vision blurred and there was no smoky fireplace to blame it on. “I care too much about you.” I tried to force down the emotions that thickened my voice. “I couldn’t stand it if you—”

Mychael looked down at me for a long moment, then he slowly put one of his hands over both of mine. “Raine, some chances are worth taking; they’re so rare and precious that it’s worth risking everything.” He said it with conviction. He said it like a man who had made up his mind and Death itself wasn’t going to budge him.

I was talking about him surviving the next few days. Mychael wasn’t.

He was talking about me. About us.

I felt a surge of panic. “And sometimes they’re not worth taking.” My mind raced. If I left the island, I’d take my trouble with me and Mychael would be safe . . . at least safer. My dad had left Mid nine hundred years ago. He’d had no choice—

Mychael curled his fingers around my hands, holding them tight. “Then I will come after you.” He paused, the smooth muscles working in his jaw. “And if someone takes you, be they man or mage, I will find you.”

I didn’t need our bond to tell me what he was thinking, what he felt. I could see it in his eyes.

Mychael Eiliesor loved me.

“I don’t regret anything I’ve done—or anything I’ll have to do in the next few days.” He pulled my hands to his lips one after the other, kissing the center of each palm. “I regret nothing,” he whispered, “especially you.”