Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Crest
The silence that followed was heavy enough to drown in. Raina saw the transformation in his eyes—the cold calculation replaced by a raw, jagged shock. He looked at her not as a beggar, but as a threat.
"It belonged to my sister," Raina said, her voice steadying. "She worked for someone who… well, she never spoke of him. She told me to keep it for Teddy. To never sell it."
Desmond didn't take his eyes off the ring. "Give it to me."
"No." Raina clutched it tighter. "You said this wasn't charity. Fine. Give us a room, a meal, and let me scrub your floors for a week. Then, I’ll tell you everything I know about why my sister possessed something that seems to make a man like you lose his composure."
Desmond stepped into her personal space. He smelled of cedarwood, expensive tobacco, and rain. "You have no idea what you’re holding, girl. That ring is a death warrant in the wrong hands."
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"Then it’s a good thing I’m not the wrong hands," she countered.
He studied her for a long, grueling moment. Then, he turned to Kora. "Take them to the servant’s quarters in the south wing. Get the boy fed. And Kora—" he paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "if she leaves that room, you answer to me."
