The king’s tastes were no secret. He collected rarities like trophies—creatures of wonder, power, or beauty, so long as they were his alone to own. And here, in this half-starved, wild-eyed girl, we had uncovered something rarer than anything he’d laid hands on before.
I followed Thorne’s gaze to the image in the enchanted glass. And for a breath, I understood.
There was something about her.
A pull.
A stillness wrapped in sorrow, like watching the tide go out after a storm, revealing not ruin but something... sacred.
I hadn’t meant to heal her friend.
My magic, though potent, came at a price. I reserved it for emergencies—true emergencies—because every use left me hollowed out, an echo of myself for days after. But in that moment, in the back of that filthy carriage, I couldn’t help it. She had looked at me with eyes full of breaking, and I—
Gods help me, I wanted to ease her pain.
Even just a little.
Thorne broke the silence, his voice nearly lost beneath the soft hum of the surveillance spells. “How is she alive?”
It wasn’t a question meant for me. Not really. But I answered anyway.
“Maybe the better question is—what do we do with her now that we have her? Train her like the others?”
He didn’t speak right away. Just kept watching the girl behind the glass like she might vanish if he blinked.
Because we both knew the truth.
She wasn’t like the others.
Not even close.
Finally, he murmured, “We’ll have to see what the king says.”
I exhaled, tension threading through my spine. “What about Vasquez? You know he’ll want her. He’ll try to fold her into his ranks the moment he catches wind of this.”
“Vasquez can go fuck himself,” Thorne snapped, sharper than I expected. “We found her. She’s ours.”
I blinked at the vehemence in his tone, then took a measured step back, drawing in a slow breath.
“Alright, then. That’s what we do. We go straight to the king. No middlemen, no whispers. We present her ourselves. Slade and Leo can come too—they’ll back us.”
Thorne didn’t answer right away, but I saw his jaw tighten, the flicker of strategy already sparking behind his eyes.
“We both know the king has a soft spot for you,” I added carefully.
“As long as Vasquez isn’t already whispering in his ear,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “If he’s seen her... if he even suspects…”
His voice trailed off, but the threat lingered in the air like smoke.
We were already on borrowed time.
**
Thorne, Leo, Slade, and I stood before the king in his private chambers, the air thick with incense and something fouler beneath it—sweet wine and dirty sex. We had been ushered in without ceremony, and I immediately wished we hadn’t.
One of his whores was already sprawled across his lap, draped in translucent silks, moving with the practiced rhythm of someone taught to pretend she wanted it. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen.
My stomach twisted.
