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I put a finger to his lips. “I know. Calm down.”
He blinks hard, then shakes his head. I bet the magic burned pretty badly for him to have come clean like that.
“It doesn’t matter.” I press a soft kiss to his mouth before pulling back. We can’t get heated again, not with the gates of Cranthum so close.
He strokes my side with his thumb, gentle swirls that have me relaxing into him again. “Now you must answer.”
“Oh, none.” I shrug.
“Wait.” He pulls my chin around so I have to look in his suspicious eyes. “You’ve never been with a male?”
“Of course I have.” I grin. “But, if you recall, my question was ‘how many females have you bedded?’. I haven’t bedded any. So, I’ve held up my end. You’re welcome.”
Thunderheads grow along his brow, and he does that thing where I can’t tell if he wants to strangle me or kiss me.
“Xalana,” he growls. “You will pay for this.”
I laugh and turn back toward Cranthum but stop as movement catches my eye. A pair of red eyes flash in the scraggly brush piled up against the walls of the city. I’ve seen those eyes before, felt the sharp pain of the monster who bears them. I can’t move, can’t scream. All I can do is watch as the horror from my past marks each of my heartbeats with its otherworldly gaze.
It stalks through the dust and sand as the sun sits low on the horizon. Kizriel pauses and stares for a long moment, then lifts his head and howls for blood. My blood.
10
Gareth
Stopping the chariot to destroy the vampire hound isn’t an option, not when we’re the next caravan set to enter the gates. A guard approaches, his eyes on Beth. Eyes that need to be ripped out.
Beth runs her hands down my thighs and wiggles on my lap.
“My lord.” He tears his gaze from her and meets my eye. “Welcome to Cranthum. Lord Zatran is expecting you.”
I turn Beth so that she straddles my lap and rest my palms on her ass. “How can he be expecting me when I’ve not sent word I’m coming?” I drop kisses along her jaw, and she clutches my shirt. Chastain said to play up my lustiness. I don’t find that to be a problem.
“No one approaches Cranthum without him knowing.” He almost simpers the words.
“Lord Zatran—he’s the one who throws that Bazaar every year, isn’t that right?” I knead her bottom.
“You are correct, my lord. And also in luck, because the Bazaar is set for the day after tomorrow.” He leans back and looks at Parnon’s wagon, then gives Beth a sidelong glance. “Have you anything to sell?”
“Perhaps.” I sigh. “Though I’m more interested in buying. I keep trying to convince King Gladion that slaves are exactly what our realm needs, but he refuses to consider it. I think if I return with some slaves of this caliber—” I slap Beth’s ass.
Her yelp is followed by a giggle.
“Then perhaps I could get him to change his mind.”
“I think we can come to an arrangement.” An officer strides up, his white uniform as stiff and unforgiving as the fae who wears it. He gives me a short bow. “Captain Bracanda. We are honored to have you here in Cranthum, Lord Elliden.”
Beth leans back. “Your last name is Elliden?”
I slap her ass harder. “You must forgive this one. She’s mouthy.” Grabbing a handful of her hair, I yank her head back and lick up her throat. “But it’s what she does with her mouth that I like about her.”
Captain Bracanda laughs, his silver eyes lingering on my mate for far too long. “You will be in perfect company with Lord Zatran. He has a collection of over fifty pleasure slaves.”
I feign interest. “Fifty, you say?”
“Indeed, my lord. I’m certain he will allow you a taste of the finest ones he has to offer.”
I wink. “Excellent, because I’m starving.”
Beth’s nails dig into my side, and the distinct sharpness of jealousy filters down the bond. She has nothing to fear. No other will ever turn my head, not when I have such a jewel as her.
Captain Bracanda steps back and waves me onward. “Please, follow my lieutenant to Lord Zatran’s estate. He anxiously awaits your arrival.”
“Thank you.” I lightly slap the reins.
We enter the city again, and the same sights are here to greet us. Changelings and lesser fae mistreated at every turn, children wearing slave bands, and nothing but despair. But as we travel westward, the streets begin to clear, the residences become grander, and soldiers patrol at regular intervals. The sounds of the city dim, and instead, birdsong and the splash of fountains carry through the dusky air. The masters have created an oasis for themselves, the pillars of it built on the backs of slaves who suffer in abject misery. But their cries can’t be heard here in the grand streets where high fae adorned in gold and finery take afternoon strolls. I thought Chastain’s home was overdone. Now I realize his was only on the outskirts of this cruel grandeur.
We circle around an enormous fountain, the top of it almost as high as the bodies at the top of the slave market, and continue down an even wider lane that leads to the largest mansion in town. Thick pillars crawling with desert flowers line the road in front of it. Three stories of sandstone create a formidable structure, but the large windows and open terraces create an air of breezy delight. Music wafts from the upper floors, and I catch the scent of roasted meat. A party is already in progress as the sun sets on this glamorous depravity.
The soldier ahead of us halts and dismounts, then claps his hands. Several slaves rush from a hidden door behind one of the wide pillars. They wear thick black bands on their wrists and around their necks, and many of them limp or walk with their eyes perpetually down.
“They will take care of your horses and slaves.” He lifts a hand toward Beth, but she cringes away.
“I’ll keep this one with me.” I scoop her up and jump down onto the sandy street. “She’s too good to let go of.”
“As you wish, my lord.” He gives me a curt nod.
The wide front doors of the house open, and a high fae strides out. His long hair is nearly white, and his golden skin and silver eyes tell of a long line of high fae ancestry, perhaps the fruit of Queen Aurentia’s own line. He is a noble, through and through, and no doubt just as rotten as any piece of fruit left too long unattended.
“Lord Elliden.” He opens his arms wide and pulls me into a rough hug. “I have never dreamed of such an honor. A winter realm noble in my city.” He claps my back then releases me, his gaze wandering to Beth at my side. “And you’ve come bearing gifts, I see.”
The feral snarls but keeps itself under control. Now is not the time, not when Beth could be in danger.
“This one is more of an obsession.” I force myself to smile. “I can’t get enough of her.”
“Well, let’s see if I can’t tempt you. I have some of the choicest cunts in all the land, and I rarely share them. But for you? I’ll make an exception.” He claps his hands. “I have something to suit every one of your needs, Lord Elliden, or Gareth, if I may.”
“You may.”
He smiles, his fangs already sharp as he looks at Beth. He has a jeweled circlet atop his head, and all his clothes are finished with golden thread. A misplaced peacock from Byrn Varyndr, he belongs here just as much as I do—and looks almost as ridiculous. Getting rid of him so that this city can be free will be my pleasure.
He turns to Silmaran. She meets his gaze with a bit too much salt.
“Hmm, a bodyguard? Where did you find this one?”
“Bought her from a Jinn I met on the outskirts of the Sea of Sand.” I’ve practiced this lie, but it still comes out a little too quickly on my tongue. Perhaps because I don’t like what will come of it.
“A Jinn?” He looks at me over his shoulder.
I nod. “Paid a small fortune for her after she demonstrated her skill. She’s already proven she was worth the gold. Slew a couple of maul-scorpions on the road before I even knew they w
ere coming.”
“Indeed?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Quite a feat.”
She doesn’t respond but holds his stare without blinking.
“Wise to purchase protection for the road and the rabble, but you’ve no need of that here.” He turns back to us, a grin on his face. “It cheers me to see you’re already adept at choosing the best fruit. A natural.”
I grab Beth’s hip and squeeze. “Haven’t been disappointed yet.”
The grin widens. “I can’t wait to talk business with you.” Excitement brims in his voice. “We can remake the winter realm. We can usher in a new era of prosperity for all high fae, seelie and unseelie. Though I, of course, mean no offense. The ways of the old ones, the unseelie ways—I like to think we embrace those here. You’ll see, and together, we will do so much for our brethren. The Ancestors have smiled upon me to bring you here, especially when my other guest of honor will arrive just in time for the Bazaar tomorrow. The three of us …” He rubs his hands together. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Come. You must be tired and thirsty and in need of some entertainment. Allow me to show you the wonders of Cranthum and the many benefits of using the lesser beings as the Ancestors intended.”
He walks backwards, his arms out. “This world can be yours, Gareth. You’ve already taken the first step toward greatness.” He points his thumbs at his chest. “Toward me.”
“Can we go ahead and kill him now?” Beth murmurs.
“I wish,” I hiss between my teeth.
If the guards stationed in the windows, along the roof, and at various intervals around the grounds are any indication, this uprising won’t be quite as bloodless as Silmaran hopes. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even possible.
Silmaran walks past, a slave telling her where she and the others in the caravan will be staying. She nods and follows them back toward the door in the pillar. She’s almost out of earshot when one of the changelings with thick, black slave bands on his arms dips his head and whispers, “Silmaran sees all.”
11
Beth
