Page 10 of The Faceless Queen

“Can we—can we just talk?” he asked suddenly.

By the Gods, old and new. Any other night this would have been my dream scenario. A blessing in disguise. But tonight? After what I’d decided? I already had his money—more than I’d seen in months. But I needed more than that to make my escape. I needed power. I needed strength. Enough magic to fill my body, enough to satisfy the Azete. I didn’t just need to change my face again. I needed muscle to get past Geoffrey’s guards. And I was only going to get the strength to do that from touching him. All of him. From stirring every emotion inside of him as I did. We had to fuck—it was the only way.

“Well,” I purred, “We can certainly start there if you like.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes still on me as his jaw worked. “What if I …” He swallowed roughly, his jaw muscles tensed. “What if I wanted it to end there, too?”

I shrugged, caught off guard. But it didn’t matter. It was another lie. He’d already tried to walk away from me once. And look how quickly he’d come back. He’d change his mind again.

“What about another drink?” I asked.

“If you wish for one, I will join you and keep your company. But I fear no number of drinks will alter my position.”

“Pity,” I said, stretching my arms over my head. “Especially when I can think of so many other positions you might take.” I used the tiniest bit of magic to enlarge my breasts, just enough to make them appear ready to burst from my bra. The coins shifted from the strain, making a light jingling sound. Then I pulled my hair off to the side, reaching for the clasp of my necklace behind my nape. Slowly, with a deep sigh, I undid it. His eyes followed carefully as the thick golden necklace revealed my collarbone. I pulled the chain down past my breasts before I set it on a small table beside me. A glass decanter full of wine stood there, ready to be poured.

“You can make yourself more comfortable,” I suggested, just as more robins began calling to each other outside, their chirps sounding off in rapid succession. A soft breeze blew against the glass pane. “Why don’t you remove your cloak, at least? The fireplace in my room can be a bit strong, especially in the spring.” I filled the first glass with red wine and held it out to him. “Don’t want you to get too hot now.”

“Samara,” he said, his voice serious now. “I meant what I said. I don’t—” He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t do this. I can’t.”

“You can’t share wine?” I teased. “Have a conversation with me? Of course, you can.”

His eyes swung furtively back to the bed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. “You know what I meant. We both know exactly what those coins are for.”

I ground my teeth. How the fuck was I the one trying to seduce a mark who’d already paid? A mark who’d already lusted for me enough to absorb his energy without touch, to tap into his mind. And yet …

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, again wasting a small surge of power to dust my irises with gold. “Who says we can’t talk and share wine before?”

“We can’t.” His arms folded across his chest. “Because there won’t be a before. Or an after. Not tonight. Not here. These things … this … It,” he frowned, making a noise low in the back of his throat, “it means something to me.”

I nearly laughed out loud. “That’s not true of most men.”

“Be that as it may,” the muscles in his jaw tensed, “I would not so easily count myself amongst them.”

“Neither would I,” I said, eying his purse. The tassels were also embedded with the same golden thread from his cloak. The same markings of his royal house. King Tirian. House Lafir. I wagered when his clothes came off, I’d find the royal seal hidden somewhere inside his underthings. He’d have the sigil somewhere. A blue moonstag, red flames behind its wings.

I set the first glass down and poured out a second. “We can still find some enjoyment together tonight. However we decide.”

His eyebrows drew together, watching me warily.

“Oh come now.” I shook my head, my lips pouting. “It doesn’t have to be that way. It’s like you said, we both know why you’re here. And while sharing something meaningful together can be great and wonderful, so can sharing something that’s just fun. If we were to both agree to such an arrangement, wouldn’t that in and of itself be meaningful?”

“Are we in another debate so soon?” he asked. “I did not expect you to be a philosopher, as well as a dancer.”

“Because I work here?” I challenged.

“Well, yes. I mean—no. No! I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I,” he sighed, “I don’t expect anyone to be a philosopher. Even at … I mean, even with my friends.”

“Well, change your expectations of me.” I winked and playfully shook my shoulders. “I am many things.” More than he’d ever understand.

“I have no doubt.” He bit his lip, his eyes searching mine. “You keep surprising me.”

“Then you should stay with me a while. I’ll surprise you again.” I eyed the bed, then shyly looked back at him.

He shook his head.

I smiled softly. “Do you really mean to tell me that every such encounter you’ve experienced has meant something to you?”

At this, he blushed, glancing toward the window. A blue robin perched on the sill, spreading its wings in agitation before it flew, its wings a mad flurry. “Well, no.” He admitted. “Not exactly. But I … I was telling the truth downstairs. I am to be betrothed. The negotiations are done. I expect the ink on the contract will be dry by morning. Then it’s done.”