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s an idea—especially one as big as that—he can’t be persuaded that maybe he needs to think it through first.”
“But you’re careful. Measured.”
I nod. “I like to think so. I certainly was back then, but now, with you, I’m different.”
“You still love rules, and thinking things through, and staying quiet, and watching.”
“Yes, but you make me rash. The bond I have with you is all-consuming, and I haven’t even claimed you yet. I can’t imagine how it will be once you bear my mark.”
“You could be wild and dangerous.” She grins. “No more rules for you. Only instinct and shenanigans.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” I kiss the tip of her nose.
“Okay, so Leander wanted to go all ‘raawwrrr, fight to the death’ but you said, in an extra smarmy voice, ‘sire, that’s not smart,’ and then what happened?”
He arches a brow at me, but continues, “As I said, I couldn’t change his mind. But the risk of losing him sat heavily on my shoulders. Without him, the realm would fall into darkness, Shathinor’s reign would be absolute, and there would be no one strong enough to stand against him. So, I pretended to go along with his plan and told him I would send an emissary into Cold Comfort with his message.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not. I sent the emissary in the morning and told Leander that I’d set the challenge for the following day. He began to make preparations for the duel. That afternoon, I rode out into the dead zone between our camp and the city. A lone fae rode out from the city, darkness gathered at his back in inky tendrils. An alarm went up in the camp behind me, but it was too late. My challenge had been accepted.”
“That’s what the letter said? That you wanted to fight?”
“Yes. The letter, purportedly from Leander, challenged Shathinor to send his best fighter to duel with me for control of Cold Comfort. It was the only way to end the siege and keep Leander from harm’s way. He was brave to a fault, but I couldn’t let him risk his life, not when he meant so much to so many, including me. So, I rode out to meet the deadliest weapon in Shathinor’s arsenal.”
“Who was it?” She kicks her feet, her eyes wide.
“Brannon.”
She frowns. “You mean your friend Brannon? The one in the Phalanx tasked with protecting Leander?”
“That’s the one, yes.”
“This plot is thicker than Clotty’s pea soup.”
“Indeed. We both meet in the wasted, war-torn bit of Arin and dismount. His darkness wraps around him like a cloak and the black, slithering things that answer his command skitter along the ground around my feet. I can feel the city holding its breath as we draw our swords.”
She holds her breath, too.
“We don’t speak as we begin our dance. He seems to hold his magic at bay, as if he wants to play with me first. So, I let him. We battle with silver blades, the two of us fighting for our lives and the lives of those we’ve sworn to protect. He is formidable.” I wink. “But so am I. I draw blood on more than one occasion, and he wounds me in shallow blows. We duel for what seems like years, both of us giving everything to defeat the other. When I manage to slice across the back of his thigh, he goes down. A roar the likes of which I’ve never heard goes up from the camp at my back. I ready my sword to strike the killing blow.”
She bites her nails.
“I’m on the downswing when his darkness seeps up from the ground, skeletal hands clawing at me, raking across my skin and tearing my flesh. I fight, my strength finally growing thin as he calls forth a legion of nightmare creatures.”
“He’s that powerful?”
“His darkness knows no bounds. He followed the magic when he was young, and when he returned from the otherworld, he was a vessel for the blackest powers of night.”
“Holy Ancestors.”
“He called forth his creatures. They slashed and bled me from a thousand cuts as my strength waned, my body going cold as ebon monsters circled around me. When I finally gave way and dropped to my knees, his awful laughter filled my mind.” I press a hand to my forehead. “I can still hear it now.”
“Chills, I tell you.” She pulls the blanket over us. “Then what happened?”
“The battle was lost. I couldn’t overcome the darkness in him. No one can. He had his creatures hold me, and he approached with his sword. I was weaponless, caught, and beaten. But I had one card left to play.”
“Magic.” Anticipation coats the word.
I nod. “The field was clear. I could unleash my magic and harm no one but Brannon. My plan was working well until I realized I’d underestimated the strain the battle would put on me. Covered in blood, my body failing, I was weak. Brannon had pulled an iron blade from his back, preparing to strike me in two. And I was readying myself to go to the Ancestors.”
“What happened? How did you win?”
I cup her face. “You.”
“Me?” She frowns. “But you didn’t even know me.”
“The promise of you, my fated mate, my love, the beating pulse of my heart. How could I leave Arin without finding you?” I stroke her soft cheek. “I couldn’t.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Is this tale simply an effort to get into my panties?”
“Is it working?”
She nips at my finger, tempting the feral. “Finish your story before I finish you.”
“As you wish, my beloved. So, there he was bringing his sword down. There I was on my knees. Right as he struck, I jerked against my captors and unleashed my magic in a torrent of utter destruction. My magic was so powerful that there is still a crater outside of Cold Comfort to this day. Because he struck me with iron, when my magic exploded, it sealed the wound and created my scar.”
“What happened to him? How did he survive?”
“His abilities are such that he will likely outlive us all. He has a constant connection to the otherworld. There is no limit to the magic he can wield. That day, he was blown back, his body crushed against the walls of Cold Comfort and all his dark creatures destroyed, but he survived. We liberated Cold Comfort that very afternoon, though the war continued for years afterward.”
“And somehow you two became friends?”
“Friends is perhaps a bit too strong of a word, but he is loyal to Leander and a strong member of the Phalanx. I don’t doubt his allegiance even if I don’t fully understand him.”
She lets out a long breath. “Wow, that was pretty much the most heroic story I’ve ever heard.”
I shrug. “Or maybe I was piss drunk and tripped on my way out of a tavern, fell into a passing wagon, and cut my face on its iron wheel.”
Her eyes couldn’t open any wider, and she raises a hand to slap me. “Why, you—”
I roll her over and pin her as she starts cursing me in the most creative ways. “Come on, we need to get to the Bazaar and help start a rebellion.”
15
Beth
We enter the house’s main hall. It’s buzzing with voices and the strains of music. Lord Zatran stands near the front door, his boisterous voice overcoming all others as he welcomes people to the Bazaar.
Slaves are placed throughout the hall—all of them nude, some painted gold, others forced into ridiculous poses. Starting bid prices are listed beneath each of them. Everyone is for sale in Lord Zatran’s world.
“Good morning, my friend.” Lord Zatran spots us and hurries over, taking Gareth by the elbow. “We already have a great turnout, and I’m more than happy to show you all of my wares.” He points to a female lesser fae, her body covered in light green scales. “Look at this. She was discovered in the Ocean of Storms. The ones who found her had to kill her entire tribe just to capture her, but what a beauty.”
She doesn’t look at him, her green eyes focused on some point above his head, but I don’t have to see her to know her pain.
“And this one.” He pulls Gareth to the next podium. “He is an interesting mix of …”
I tr
ail behind, seemingly forgotten, and stare up at her. “I’m sorry.” It’s all I can offer.
She finally looks down, her gaze direct and unblinking. Though she seems harmless here in this dry world, her nails lengthen into white claws and when she opens her mouth, I see a row of fangs that could bone a fish with ease.
“Point taken.” I step back, but not before I see the scars on her scaled wrists, the mark of shackles and agony.
I follow Gareth, but a fae steps into my path.
“I believe we’ve met.” He peers down his pointed nose at me, his silver eyes set deeply into his smug face.
I reach up to make sure my face is still covered. It is. So how does this fae—the one who spoke to Gareth when we first approached Cranthum—know who I am?
“Your scent.” He seems to read my mind. “I have no magic, but my talent is scents. I create perfumes for the finest of summer realm fae. And your scent, my dear, is quite a rarity. Where, pray tell, is your master?” He gives me an ugly smile.
If he sees Gareth and recognizes him, this entire plan will go straight to the Spires. I can’t let that happen. “Shopping.” I wave a hand in the opposite of Gareth’s direction, then bat my lashes. “You were the one who sought to buy me?”
“Yes.” He presses his finger under my chin and tilts my face up to his. “I could bottle you and sell you for quite a bit.”
I shudder.
“I’d love to discuss this further, but I’m afraid it will have to be with your master. Tell him Lord Brandeis is looking for him.”
“We can talk,” I say too quickly. “If you want, I mean.” I drop my gaze and try to seem subservient. “I’m very interested in your craft.”
“My craft? I believe you’re far more interested in what I have tucked inside my breeches. You changeling females are all the same.” He laughs viciously and takes my elbow, his grip far too hard. “Come, then. Let’s talk somewhere more private.”
I dig in my heels. “My master won’t like it if I leave with you.”
