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“Harlots can’t be picky.” She helps me step into them and pull them up. I yank the skirt on over them, but it’s about as effective as wearing a layer of glass. “Perfect.” She nods, then returns to the drawers and pulls out a white scarf that she fashions into a turban to cover her brown hair, then another she uses to hide her face, though she lets it hang down at the moment.
“Maybe I should have opted for your outfit?” I look down at all the skin I’m showing.
“And disappoint Gareth after you promised him a harlot? Not a chance. Come into my dressing room. You’ll need some kohl on your eyes and a few more touches.”
“Fancy.”
She grins. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
8
Gareth
“—isn’t up for discussion.” Chastain paces in front of me as I button the last golden closure on the stupid shirt.
“I’m not yours to command.” I stalk past him and into the hall. My golden collar irritates me, and I can feel every bump from the gaudy jewels along my pants seams. I’m nothing short of a hideous chandelier.
Chastain keeps up. “No, but you’ve agreed to help us, and I expect that agreement to be honored.”
I whirl on him. “Are you challenging my word?”
“Of course not.” He throws his hands up. “But you have to trust that Silmaran and I know what we’re doing. We know Cranthum and we know Zatran far better than you ever could.”
“I don’t doubt that, but your plan is rash.”
“No, it’s exactly what we need.” Chastain runs a hand through his hair, the strain evident in the slight shake of his fingers. “And I don’t like it either!” He slams a fist into the wall, a puff of dust erupting from the hole he leaves. “You think I want to do this? I don’t. But—”
“What’s going on?” Silmaran strides toward us, her face covered and a curved sword strapped to her side.
“Nothing.” Chastain recovers somewhat. “We’re ready.”
“Parnon?”
“He’s gone with Eldra to arrange the chariot. We’ll meet them beyond the dunes and begin the ruse.”
“Good.” She checks a set of knives strapped just under her blouse.
“Where’s Beth?” I peer over her head at movement down the hall.
Silmaran steps past me.
My breath utterly stops, perhaps my heart, too.
A vision in emerald green saunters toward me, the bottom half of her face covered in a gauzy material with tiny jewels hanging from its bottom edge. Her eyes are rimmed with black, their brown depths hinting at delights I can’t begin to comprehend. The rest of her is a feast for the eyes—her pert breasts swelling over the top of a thin band of green fabric, bare midriff with a lickable navel, and nothing left to the imagination from her waist down. She turns as if she forgot something. That’s when I see the part of the outfit that nearly brings me to my knees. Her round ass is on full display, nothing but a thong of leather keeping the scrap of green against her body.
“Steady on, Gareth.” Chastain claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t look at her.” I reach her in three steps, just as she turns around. “Oh, the filthy things I am going to do to you.”
She bats her lashes. “Well, you’re supposed to, my lord. After all, I’m your harlot.”
I lean closer, scenting her hair that cascades over one shoulder, feeling the heat radiating from her body, sensing the desire pulsing between her thighs.
“Remember, this is all for show, my lord.” She trails a finger between her breasts, down her stomach, and toys with the edge of the sheer skirt floating around her waist. “Don’t get too invested.”
“Too invested?” I loom over her, my body demanding I take what is mine. But I don’t. I push the feral back, though it claws and roars. I lick my lips, and her gaze follows the movement, a vein at her throat fluttering like fairy wings. “When I claim you, my beloved, I want you to remember this day. Remember what you did to me. Because I will give it back ten-fold when I’m deep in your tight cunt.”
“Gareth!” Her gasp moves the thin fabric draped across her sensuous mouth.
“Just remember.” I take her hand and scratch it lightly with my fang.
“Glad that’s all settled.” Parnon pushes past us. “Let’s go. We need to be at the city gates before sundown.”
Chastain leaves a wide berth as he passes, his gaze firmly on Silmaran as they stride down the hall. I don’t miss their knowing looks, though.
“Gareth?” Beth breathes.
“Yes?”
“You kind of have to let go of me if we’re going to do this.”
I realize I’ve been gripping one of her arms too tightly and release her. My palm-print skirts the edge of one of her scars.
She looks. I look. She looks at me looking, and her gaze drops to the floor.
“You are without compare.” I lift her gaze back to mine. “Nothing could ever mar you.”
She takes a deep breath and quirks up one side of her lips in a confident smile. “I’m a harlot. As long as my master likes me, I’m doing all right.”
I lift the thin fabric over her lips and give her a gentle kiss. “He does more than just ‘like’ you.”
Before she can respond, I turn her so she can walk ahead of me and shoo her down the hall.
Nemar walks up behind me, but I give him a look that could melt rock when he glances at my prize. He hurries ahead of us, head down.
“Stop scaring everyone,” she snipes.
She can scold me until the Ancestors call me home as long as I get to view her stunning ass while she’s doing it.
“Here.” Silmaran stands in the fountain room with a thin white cloak. She hands it to Beth. “This will save you from the sun until showtime.”
“Thanks.” Beth takes it and drapes it around her shoulders. “You know, you could’ve given me this earlier.”
Silmaran grins. “Why would I do that?”
Beth mumbles a curse, and I adjust the cloak so it covers all of her. I don’t know the strength it took for her to don that garb despite the marks on her fair skin. But it was more than even I possess. When I claim her, I intend to kiss every one of them, to worship her as she deserves. They are nothing to me, but I’m not foolish enough to miss the hurt in her eyes when she looks at them.
“And this is for you.” Chastain gives me a long white shift—the same sort of outfit I’ve seen many of the Cranthum males wearing. “I’ll fashion a turban for you, as well. We don’t want any whispers about you before you arrive at the gates in high style.”
“Do you expect any issues getting out?” I drop my chin so he can wrap fabric around my dark hair.
“Getting out isn’t the issue. But getting back in …” Silmaran squares her shoulders. “We’ll get it done.”
“What about the fact that a winter fae was seen entering the city and making trouble? What if they realize I’m the same fae?”
“They won’t.” Silmaran taps beneath her eye. “Silmaran sees all. So, I’ve informed my network of slaves that it was a wanderer from the dark lands far to the east.”
“The night realm?” I’ve heard tales of it, though never visited.
“Indeed. And once my spies begin to whisper the same story, it quickly becomes the only story. We have nothing to worry about, unless you spoke with any masters on your journey?”
“One.” I try to think back to the slaver who accosted me outside the gates and in front of the slave market.
Silmaran stills. “What was his name?”
“He didn’t give it.”
“Appearance?”
“Nothing special. Blond hair, silver eyes, haughty manners.”
“That accurately describes over half the slavers in town.” Chastain finishes tying my turban.
Silmaran sighs but doesn’t lose her intensity. “We’ll just have to hope you two don’t meet at Zatran’s.”
“And if we do?”
“We’ll deal
with it.” Chastain’s dark tone tells me all I need to know about how he intends to “deal” with it.
Once we’ve all donned the disguises, we’re ready to begin their foolhardy plan. As long as Beth is by my side—close enough for me to whisk her to safety should the need arise—I will play my part. I know what this rebellion means to Beth, and I will do everything I can to make sure it comes to pass.
But I won’t endanger her. Not for anyone.
