Elora Van Eck | Kaz Brekker

TWENTY | THE FIRST LEAD

***

w y l a n

  THE THIEF EXUDED A LETHAL PREEMINENCE that was difficult to interpret at first glance. Solely world-weary idiots would want to traipse into a portal opened by getting trapped in his intense gaze for some awfully long seconds. And Wylan was one to fall for it.

  As he sat across from Kaz in the dark-haired man's office, Wylan toyed with his fingers. He had gazed him down long enough. A long two seconds. And now his sight roamed about furniture pieces as if he had never seen them before. The solid wood floor, a desk littered with documents, a small coffee table in the corner decked with a vase but no flowers, and the transom window, its view always obscured by a thick dark blue veil. All proved to be spotless, and he eventually realized it smelled like citrus. He subsequently began to wonder who was responsible for cleaning this venue. But the question only persisted on his tongue.

  Jesper had been right. Kaz was not to be trifled with at any time, but he seemed angrier than ordinary. Although Wylan respected the young merchant, he had never been frightened of him until then. He focused on just about anything else, but Kaz's piercing stare seemed to comprise magnets, as the golden-haired boy found himself drawn to it the more he attempted to avoid it.

  How pitiable, he thought. To be afraid of a boy not much older than himself. To show up in here determined to speak, and then pretend to sit inside this room with no company only to avoid the priorly desired confrontation.

  Kaz leaned back in his chair, gloved fingers interlocked, observing Wylan silently. Then, he tilted forth to rest his arms on the tabletop. He kept mum, waiting for Wylan to simmer down. Notwithstanding he honestly did not appear to even try to relax. Kaz then rasped.

  Wylan's gaze darted in the direction of the sudden noise, and they, at last, came face to face.

  "You're frightened," Kaz stated raspily, implying that he sought clarification. He knew he had done no wrong to the boy. And even if the wonderment was not visibly on his face, he experienced it surely.

  Wylan shifted in his seat, then shook his head. "I'm not frightened."

  "Don't lie to me."

  "I'm sorry," Wylan said quietly. The Van Eck scion bowed his head as speedily as he could. His pulse quickened, and he braced himself for a blow to the head. However, this did not occur. Kaz merely leaned back in his seat to create some more distance between the two. His brows were furrowed together.

  "Van Eck," Kaz began, "Whatever the cause for this petrified behavior is, there is no reason for it. I have no intention of smashing your bones."

  "Whatever you may imagine of me, and I firmly presume hardly anything positive, I am no beast who feeds on innocent citizens. Now, look at me so we can have a reasonable conversation."

  At this request, Wylan cocked his chin up. His gaze mingled with Kaz's hesitantly. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he cleared his throat, his voice flat.

  Kaz waved the question aside as if the reason he needed to talk to Wylan had mysteriously lost relevance. "You wanted to discuss something with me as well, am I correct?"

  Wylan nodded lightly and Kaz proceeded. "My business can wait for a moment. I'm inquisitive about what you reckon is so necessary to address."

  Wylan opened his mouth but promptly shut it anew as he sought the appropriate words. "Truly, it's nothing substantial," he stammered. "You had a fight with Jesper," the boy kept going, struggling to maintain eye contact.

  The thief's features abruptly altered and became icy cold, even snowier than usual, if that was even doable. "I don't believe that's any of your business," he hissed. Instead of backpedaling, Wylan dared to push. For Jesper. "I understand how important you are to Jesper, and whatever the cause for this argument was, you can always get rid of it easily if you only want to."