“You never asked me if I would choose differently knowing what I know now,” I whisper.
A beat of silence. Then, “Would you?”
Weakly, I nod. My head is a bit fuzzy. It’s a little hard to speak. It takes me a couple of tries to get the words out. “I would have told you I loved you the last time I saw you.” I pause, trying to catch my breath. “I wouldn’t have wasted the precious time we had on politics. I would have been more…selfish with our time.” A faint breath of laughter leaves me. “I thought we had more of it.”
He says nothing.
But I don’t need him to.
Soon, I’ll see him anyway.
Somewhere in the distance, a lock rattles. The door opens, light filling the space.
Everything feels far away.
A tall man enters, casting a shadow over me.
He clicks his tongue. “Magnificent.”
The last thing I see is him crouching over me.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
JAX
Kozem hasn’t changed.
Still smells like filth, smoke, and desperation.
It’s odd being back in Jaakii, walking the streets as a free man. Well, as free as I’ll ever be.
It’s even weirder being back in Kozem. As I walk the grim streets, full of filth and rats, I keep my head down. I’ve stuffed the old Ezkai leathers into my backpack and changed to my usual leather pants and silk shirt.
I may wear my old clothes, and I may look like my old self on the outside. But inside… everything is different.
As always, a group of fae stand around the entrance to Fox’s Lair, smoking. Of course, all eyes snap to me as I approach and without pausing, enter the gambling parlor.
Inside, the air is heavy with the sickly sweet scent of ipiom.
Ah, it’s almost nostalgic.
Madame Mercy’s business is still blooming. Every gambling table I pass is full of fae desperate to gamble their lives away.
I dip my chin at a couple of dealers I used to work with back when I still worked for Madame Mercy. Before all the trouble with the Talbots.
It feels like forever ago. But it hasn’t been that long, has it?
Madame Mercy lounges on a chaise standing on a dais at the back of the room. In her elegant hand rests a black cigarette holder with a smoldering cigarette.
Her sly gaze slides down my body before snapping back up to meet my eyes.
I award her with my most dazzling smile as I bow at the waist. “Madame Mercy.”
Wordlessly, she offers me one of her hands. Without raising from my bow, I take it and gently graze the back of it with my lips.
Her dark eyes glimmer as she watches me.
Madame Mercy is one of the most intelligent and cunning women I’ve ever met in my lifetime. And believe me, I’ve met many.
