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“You weren’t sure I’d be allowed in here?”
“Let’s not dwell on that part.”
“Who did she mean bytall drink of dark water?”
“Probably the Knight Commander.” He glances down to where my breasts almost spill from the low-cut bodice, then takes my hand and guides me toward the thatched roof building. “Speaking of drinks, let’s get one.”
“You were telling me who to watch out for,” I remind him.
“Oh, right. I’ll point out a few Radiants who’re benevolent enough to give you a charm.”
“For what?”
He gawks at me. “For your survival. For your appearance.”
“Alfie,” I stop him. “No Radiant here will look at me twice. I have nothing to offer. Why would anyone think I have something to trade for a charm? I’m better off using this time to learn where I can buy or hunt down manabeeze.”
“Wisps,” he chides. “Stop using Elphyne words if you want to stay out of the dungeons. Or worse, they won’t wait for the end of the exhibition—they’ll banish you out of fear.”
Embarrassment shoots heat up my neck.
“I might have bitten off more than I can chew coming here.” I desperately wanted to go it alone, to be useful on my own, but remaining confident is harder by the day. “I should focus on findingwisps. Then I can activate the portal stone, and we can go home.”
“That might be a while. I’ve never seen wisps here like the ones Nero harvested from the fae. The charms are always already enchanted. You should focus on them.” He points at the ones on his hip chain. “This one keeps nightmares from infecting my mind. This one makes me silent on my feet. This helps mespeak mind-to-mind with my Radiant. Look around, Willow—the rules help the privileged stay on top. If you hide your flaws and play the game, there are ways of getting ahead.”
“Maybe I can steal a few.” I frown, eying a few charms dangling from drunken patrons. “The other Nothings need charms too.”
“You can’t transfer their power. Doesn’t work that way. Once a Radiant gifts it, it’s yours.” Annoyed, he looks away. “Just leave the Nothings alone. You can’t save them.”
How can he disregard them so easily when they’re his people, too?
“You’ll be surprised at how innocuous the favors can be,” he says, pointing to a mortal youth dropping grapes into someone’s mouth.
“He’s a bit young, though, right?”
“Looks can be deceiving, especially in here.” He pulls me past moaning grottos and alcoves overflowing with pillows and sparkling fluids I don’t even want to think about.
“Don’t bother with Lord Fox, though.”
“What?” I tense, swinging back around.
He nods toward an alcove near the outskirts of trees. A group of well-dressed nobilities stand before a gauze curtain. They sip from glasses of glittering liquid, laughing at something in conversation. I recognize the scantily clad Lady Nivene from the House of Tides. Her sunburned Shadow wears a sheer gown, revealing her nakedness beneath. Her sparkling collar leads to a leash she flirtatiously taps against a bare, sculpted male torso. One I’m intimately familiar with after I made it bleed all over my hand, after I buried my hands beneath his shirt—the same shirt that is now carelessly unbuttoned.
Fine red welts run down Fox’s abdomen. Scratches. From her nails.
A snarl catches in my throat.
Alfie scowls openly. “Irisaknowsnot to bother with them.”
His voice warbles as I take in Fox’s dark, almost maddened expression as he looks at her. But she eats it up, scrapes those dainty nails down his glistening abdomen. I swear the air around him grows darker, as though shadows are pulled from it.
It’s not the shadows, but what we do inside them.
A twisted, ugly feeling knots in my stomach. I should look away, but Fox is magnetic. Every move he makes, every twitch draws attention. Whether it’s a smile or a scowl, he is the center of the universe. He leans toward Irisa and whispers something that parts her lips.
What did he call it at the restaurant—Midnight adventures? Macabre delights?
Alfie and I stand transfixed as Fox takes the leash and jerks her after him. Lanterns nearby throw enough light to catch the raw hunger in his eyes before he sits, facing away from us on a gilt-edged ornate sofa. The backrest hides everything from his shoulders down, but by the movement of his arm, it’s obvious he pats the empty seat beside him.
