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To point out that I’d seen him with human women before, so it was not such a strange assumption.
To say that I could see the way he looked at me on occasion and that his flirting might be calculated but still did not go unnoticed.
That I’d felt clearly how I affected him when he’d held my hips against him in the tower.
That he was the one who had dragged me here and then insisted on climbing, half-naked, into my bed.
But I didn’t say that.
I said nothing, and instead, I lay flat on my back, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling.
I tried not to breathe too loudly, all too aware that he could probably hear my heart beating and was more aware of every tiny movement I made even more so than I was. He didn’t move either, and it was only from the intense heat radiating from his skin that I knew he had not turned to stone.
26
LONNIE
THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT
My vision swam, disconcerting and unfocused. I’d been here before—this time, I was sure of it. Yet, the room seemed different. The walls were dark, the air thick with smoke. In the distance, a battle raged, steel on steel echoing through twisting halls.
I stared at the herald in the skull mask. “What do you want?”
The stranger rose from his threadbare throne and took a step closer, and his appearance swam into sharper relief. He was tall—at least as tall as Prince Scion—and wearing a black hooded cloak over a similarly dark tunic.
“Merely to offer you a bargain.”
Whatever else felt unclear, I was certain of this much: “I would rather die than make another bargain. The ones I have already are chafing enough as it is.”
He laughed, and the sound seemed to wrap around me. Most of the laughter of the High Fae felt eerie and dissonant somehow, but not his.
“What is so amusing?”
He smiled again, but this time, it was a bit brittle. “Come find me, and I shall tell you.”
* * *
I awokethe next morning to sunlight streaming through the still-open curtains and the sound of hushed voices at the door.
It took me a long moment to remember the events of the previous evening—where I was and the reason for the adrenaline buzzing through my veins. A slight embarrassment washed over me, yet in truth, I was not surprised. This was precisely the sort of dream I’d been plagued by for weeks, and given the events of last night…well, it wasn’t precisely a shock.
I peered into the corner of the room, now flooded with weak sunlight, just to completely dispel myself of the notion that anyone could have been standing there, watching me—watchingus.
The face of the stranger swam in my mind, growing more clouded with each second I moved away from the dream. I wasn’t sure I recognized him—in fact, I was almost certain I had not, yet the feeling of his presence there lingered longer than the dream itself.
It was nearly impossible to name…like power or electricity.
If I had never read Rosey’s journals, I would never have given this more than a passing thought—a minor humiliation—but now…
My entire body still felt far too hot, a burning flush I couldn’t expel. I worried my lip. Gods, if my subconscious had begun to view Scion with something other than loathing after only a few sad stories, I couldn’t trust myself withanything.
Opening my eyes slowly, I glimpsed the object of my ire himself. Scion’s smooth, muscled back and disheveled hair were halfway obscured by the doorframe as he spoke to whoever stood in the hallway. Cross, I supposed, or perhaps one of his children came to deliver a message.
Rolling over, I found the space in the bed next to me still warm. Part of me was already embarrassed by giving in and allowing Scion to stay.
I could have tried harder to argue with him.
I could have left, damned the consequences.
