CHAPTER 1The sword was the single most beautiful weapon in Quin Black’s vast collection. In the six years Annie Pontin had been the recluse’s personal assistant, she had never seen him acquire an item more elegant, nor treat another possession with such delicate care.
“I’d trade all the rest of it to keep this one item,” he’d said after he’d hired her. He caressed the bejeweled hilt like he would a lover, his long fingers tracing each stone, then curling around to cradle it in the palm of his hand. “I’d even trade my own life to ensure it was always protected.”
Personally, she thought the pronouncement a tad extreme. As a historian, she loved artifacts, too, but this was still just a sword. The kind of focus Quin demonstrated bordered on mania. Another person might have reconsidered taki
