The east wing of the archives smelled of dust, old wax, and the faint metallic scent of long-buried secrets. Callie had been sent there under the pretext of cataloging forgotten ledgers, another task Darian imposed on her like silken ties, innocuous to outsiders, intimate to her. The key he'd pressed into her palm before dawn had been warm against her body; his fingers had rested on hers just long enough to remind her of the plug still inside her, a remnant of the previous night's test, the sil