Page 44 of Drown Me Gently

“Elias?” she asked, eyes sparkling. “Oh yes. One of my most loyal customers.” Her painted mouth curled. “Always asks for the prettiest young men.”

Ulric’s jaw ticked, and his spine straightened.

“And I suppose you know where I might find him?” he asked, calm as a sheathed blade.

The Duchess tilted her head, appraising him now with a different kind of curiosity. Her eyes dragged down the length of him, taking in the long lines of his frame, the ink curling just beneath his collar.

“Mm. You’re quite the specimen yourself,” she murmured. “It’s a shame you’ve come here hunting. You ought to be hunted, darling.”

Ulric said nothing.

She leaned forward, voice syrupy. “Why not take a break from your chase? Spend the night with one of my wonders. A man like you shouldn’t have to walk away alone.”

He offered the smallest of smiles. “Tempting,” he said, “but I don’t pay for distractions. Not tonight.”

Her laugh was light and knowing. “Pity. But you’ll find that information is like fine silk. Rare and expensive.”

Ulric didn’t blink. He slid a pouch of coin across the table. It clinked with a weight that made her eyes gleam. She tapped it once, then leaned in.

“He has a private study. Sponsored by the crown, no less. A few streets up from the palace wall, tucked behind the archives. Has his own key. Keeps to himself.” Her voice dropped, and the atmosphere shifted. “I’d be careful if I were you,” she purred. “He doesn’t like being interrupted. His smile is sweet, but there’s a wicked streak under that charm. One of my boys once brought him a rare bird, still alive. A gift for his patronage. He laughed and snapped its neck as if it were a flower stem. Said he needed the bones for dissection.”

Ulric’s stomach twisted. His fists clenched at his side, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching for the knives.

“He’s cold,” she went on. “Doesn’t see people. Only specimens. Doesn’t care what he hurts, so long as he can cut it open and study what’s inside.” Her smile returned. “I thought you might like to know the sort of man you’re chasing.”

He stood, thanked her, and exited her Garden of Wonders. The moment he stepped outside, the city was muffled. Dim, compared to the roaring in his ears. His robes swept over the cobblestones in a whisper of the violence to come. Every step tightened the coil inside him—wound by fear, by love, and by the weight of his broken vow.

The magic hadn’t tried to stop him again. He was unhindered. Allowed to fulfill every selfish desire of his heart.

His prayer was heard.

And now⁠—

Now, he would find Auren.

Whatever consequences came after, he would face them gladly.

Ulric pressed a hand to the inked runes on his forearm. Still warm, still alive, but flickering at the edges, like a flame nearing its final breath.

Let me be too late, he thought, and I’ll emerge as the creature the gods sealed in the pits of the earth. A nightmare even Olympus dare not name.

Because if Elias touched even a hair on Auren’s head⁠—

The gods would weep at the monster Ulric would become.

The world was too bright.

Firelight throbbed against his eyelids, searing into his skull. His body was heavy—unnaturally so. Every limb dragged, as if filled with stones. His spine ached fiercely as he shifted on an unforgiving, flat surface.

He tried to roll over. But as he did, something snapped taut and bit into the delicate skin around his wrist.

Rope.

Auren’s eyes flew open. And the stench hit him like a wave.

It was the same rotting scent he’d caught on the wind back on the beach— it was everywhere. It clung to the air, soaked the walls, crawled into his mouth, and gagged him.

Auren turned his head and retched, but there was nowhere to go. Nothing in his stomach. His throat seized, his body twitching weakly against the restraints.