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“What about a kiss?” Playing coy is almost fun. I mean, it would be more fun if my thighs weren’t on fire for him.
“That’s a strong offer, my beloved.” He leans down, his gaze swallowing me whole. “I’ll accept it if I get to choose the location and duration of said kiss.”
My knees go weak, but he holds me in place. “That’s, um.” Is it hot in here? “I—”
“So, it’s agreed then?”
I can’t seem to catch my breath. “I’m certain you have a rule against this.”
“Against pleasuring you with my mouth? Never.” He cups my ass and squeezes. “Now, agree to it. I’ll take my payment up front, of course.”
“Of course,” I squeak.
“Agree.” He tilts my chin up so I can’t hide from him.
Even the Ancestors know how badly I want this. I won’t say no, not when he’s already looking at me like I’m a meal. “I agree.”
He lifts me with both hands and sits me on the couch. Dropping to one knee, he pushes my skirt up. “I’ve desired this for so long. And now it’s mine.”
Everything inside me goes up in flames. “You don’t waste any ti—”
A loud pounding sounds at the makeshift front door, and a male yells. “Open up by order of Lord Zatran!”
Gareth snarls and yanks my skirt down as Nemar rushes out of a side room, his face pale.
“Hide!” he hisses as he hurries to the door. The pounding continues, and danger salts the air.
Before I can protest, Gareth throws me under his arm and dashes past the fountain and into a long hallway.
Eldra rushes toward us and points to a dark room at the end of the corridor, and Gareth carries me inside. “There.” She points to a grate in the wall.
“What is this?” Gareth hurries to it.
The grate moves, and Silmaran pokes her head out. “Shh, get in.”
Gareth thrusts me inside first, then follows. Eldra replaces the grate and creeps from the room, closing the door behind her.
I squint in the dark. “What is goin—”
Silmaran raises one finger to her lips as heavy footsteps—lots of them—sound on the tiled floor.
“We had a report of a disturbance.”
“No, no problems here.” Chastain coughs.
“What happened to you then?”
“I … fell.”
Gareth’s grip on my shoulder tightens. Chastain truly is a shit liar.
“Fell?” More footsteps fan out along with the sounds of doors opening and closing.
“From a height, you see.”
“A height?” The disbelief rises with each question.
“Yes, I was attempting to get the perfect view of the sunset, and my fool of a slave that was supposed to lift me—”
“Apologies, master.” Parnon’s gruff voice rasps through the air.
“This is the one who allowed you to come to such harm?” The voice sharpens.
“Yes, he’s a clumsy oaf.” Chastain plays the snob quite well. “I only keep him around for his size. It can be useful when any of my rats think to get out of line.”
“Master Zatran has decreed death for any slave who strikes his master.”
“As he should.” Chastain sniffs. “Any such slave should face dire consequences. However, this fool simply mishandled me. Otherwise, I’d demand you bring me his head.”
“Mmhmm.” The door to the room where we’re hiding opens, and a high fae in a white uniform strides in, a curved sword at his side. He sweeps the entire area with his gaze. “There was a disturbance outside the market today. Some said you were involved. Do you know anything about that?”
“I certainly was there earlier today. Had my eye on a particular slave, but her stubborn owner wouldn’t part with her. I didn’t see a disturbance. What happened, Captain Bracanda?”
“Some sort of brawl. The criminal Silmaran was reportedly there.” The captain steps into the room, his thin nose in the air as if he can smell us.
“That filthy slave?” Chastain swears in the old language. “I hope she’s caught and strung up above the slave market as soon as possible.”
“From your lips to the Ancestors’ ears.” The Captain’s gaze lingers on the grate, and he approaches as other soldiers enter the room.
Gareth slowly pulls me back until I can’t see anything except the shadowy outline of shapes beyond the grate. Silmaran pulls a blade from a hidden sheathe along her calf. I try not to breathe.
“We fear there may be a misguided master who is helping the criminal Silmaran.”
“Surely not.” Chastain spits. “Our kind would never ally with such garbage.”
The captain leans forward, his gaze searching for us in the darkness beyond the grate. “I hope you’re correct.” His voice is so close that I can almost feel his breath in the still air. “But Lord Zatran is on high alert. He’s ordered extra security for the Bazaar.”
“Excellent. We must keep our sacred tradition safe. The Bazaar is the pride of Cranthum.” Chastain clears his throat. “Not to be rude, Captain, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a slave to discipline.”
“Master, I am very sorry—”
“Not yet you aren’t.” The crack of a slap—if a person slapped a rock wall—resounds. “But when I’m done with you, you won’t dare be so clumsy in my presence again.”
“If I may?” The captain stands, his shadow retreating.
“By all means.” Chastain puts a bit too much verve on it, but the captain doesn’t seem to notice.
“Sandstone people don’t respond to violence as they should.” He snaps his
fingers. “But we can ensure his compliance with more creative measures. Take him to the fountain.”
Silmaran presses her hand to the grate, but Gareth yanks her back. She turns her fierce gaze on him but stays put.
“Yes, of course.” Chastain’s voice wobbles.
The footsteps recede.
All is quiet.
I can breathe again.
But Silmaran is still tense, and Gareth doesn’t let me go.
There’s a splashing noise. And then a gut-wrenching wail of pain tears through the house, shaking me to the core.
4
Gareth
When the soldiers finally leave, I allow Silmaran to kick the grate free. We climb out, and I take Beth under my arm as we return to the fountain room.
Chastain is on his knees beside Parnon, the giant’s face pale and bloodless.
“What happened?” Silmaran slaps her hand gently against his face. “Parnon, wake up!”
“They drowned him.” Beth presses a hand to her mouth.
“No, they submerged him.” Chastain rubs a shaking hand down his face. “No sandstone can survive it. Water is a particular poison for Parnon’s kind.”
Nemar rushes in from the back hall. “They’re truly gone, the entire contingent.” His shoulders slump when he sees Parnon. “Oh, no.”
“He can’t be dead.” Beth drops to her knees beside Silmaran. “Brute! Wake up! What can we do?”
Silmaran rips his shirt open. “Get rid of the wet clothes.”
Everyone starts pulling at his clothing, yanking them free until he’s naked.
“He’s too wet.” Silmaran presses against his chest, and water runs between her fingers as she looks on in horror. “We can’t save him.”
“Maybe we can.” Beth turns her eyes to me, moisture pooling in their beautiful depths. “Please?”
I will never deny such a plea from my beloved. “Step aside.”
“What are you doing?” Silmaran’s voice is thick with tears.
Taking a deep breath, I press my hands to Parnon’s motionless chest. My tiny store of healing magic swirls inside me, shooting along my veins and into my hands. I press it all into Parnon, giving him everything I have until I hear the call of the magic, its song tempting me to follow it to the Otherworld and stay lost there forever.
