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25
LONNIE
THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT
“It has been taken care of,” Scion’s smooth voice echoed through the dark room a split second before he appeared in the center of the carpet.
Even if I’d been worried that it was not truly him this time, I would have known from his scowl alone. This version of Scion—the real one—was the same in the sum of his parts yet so impossibly different it was hard to believe I’d been fooled for even a moment.
He still wore his armor and clearly had not yet had a chance to bathe as his hair had dust in it, and there was a smattering of blood across the side of his face. He had none of the carefree energy of the false version of himself and, indeed, looked like he had not smiled in more years than I’d been alive.
“What did you do to him?” I asked from where I now sat, wrapped in a quilt in the center of the bed.
“Nothing that was not deserved,” Scion replied unhelpfully. “Kaius was warned not to touch you, and he elected to ignore that warning. You do not need to worry about him returning.”
I wasn’t worried. Scion’s help wasn’t exactly unappreciated, but for once, I hadn’t needed it. If I had not already realized that the creature in my room was not the Prince of Ravens, I would have known by how easily I’d overpowered him.
“I didn’t realize glamour extended to turning into others.”
Scion nodded. “The face you saw earlier was not his true one either, though I could not say who it belonged to. Incubi are monstrous like all the Unseelie, though they hide it better than most.”
I frowned. I wanted to wonder aloud why the incubus would have chosen to impersonate Prince Scion, but the answer seemed embarrassingly obvious:Because I fell for it.
I sighed and pulled the blanket I’d pulled from the bed more tightly around myself. I was not cold nor as traumatized as I thought I likely should have been by the situation. No, the blanket was more to preserve what was left of my modesty. Not that it mattered much—the real Scion had gotten an eyeful, I knew, when he burst in to help.
“His mistake, of course, was impersonating me,” Scion said with no inflection as he strode across the room to sit on the edge of the rumpled bed.
I glanced up sharply, my eyes darting between his for a moment. Then, relief flooded me.
He didn’t know. Didn’t realize anything had gone on beyond what he’d walked in on. He was assuming I’d known immediately and attacked. I might have laughed with the relief of it.
“Of course,” I lied. “I would rather die than let you touch me.”
He reached the edge of the bed, and his silver eyes raked over me, scorching me from the inside out. “Then you’d best move over.”
“I…” I blinked up at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Not that I’d object, but if you do not want to share a pillow, you will need to move over.”
I swallowed audibly and resisted the urge to reach up and slap myself across the face. Surely,surely, this could not be happening.Again.“Absolutely not.”
“You’ve been sleeping quite soundly in my bed for the better part of two months. Another night won’t kill you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“That’s hardly the same, and you know it.” I scowled. “You must be out of your mind to think I would let you sleep in here, especially after what just happened.”
“It is precisely because of what just happened that I’m going to be sleeping in here. You are clearly unsafe.”
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself until only my head was visible. “I thought you said you took care of it. Gods,Ieven took care of it.”
His eyes darted to the bloodstained book on the trunk beneath the window, and he bared his teeth in something like a feral smile. “That may be so, but who knows what else is lurking in this cursed fucking house. This whole place is crawling with thieves.”
“Why should you care?” I bit out, forcing my mind to stay in the moment. “You’re friends with Cross.”
His gaze flicked to the door, and for a moment, his self-assured smile flickered. It was as if the mask of bravado slipped, and I caught a glimpse of genuine worry, if only for a moment.
“You’re impossibly naive for someone who spends every other sentence lamenting the dangers of the world you grew up in.” He shook his head. “Yes. I am friends with Cross, but were he not my friend, he might be seeking out the assassins’ guild right now to see what price is on your head, or perhaps the mercenaries, if he chose to play them against each other.” He gave me a pointed look. “There are a dozen thieves downstairs and a dozen more scattered around the city. They are all trained by Cross, and I am not their friend.”
