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Her scowl deepened. “I won’t be paying you five pieces of gold for mediocre whiskey.” Not when that alone would pay for breakfast in the morning.
“That’s the price, princess.” He leaned over the table, which groaned under his considerable weight. “But you can pay me out back.”
She scoffed and pushed the glass away from her, fingertips tingling with a warning of her awakened power. “I don’t want the drink. I haven’t touched it, and I won’t be washing dishes for something I didn’t have.”
It would have been a lie if she’d claimed his shifty gaze didn’t bother her, not when the place was full of people who seemed keen to ignore what was happening. “You won’t be washing dishes. You’ll be on your knees, putting that smart mouth to use.”
He stepped forward, and her blood raced through her. The alcohol left her body as it ignited like dry kindling, her magic answering in kind as she lifted a hand and the light of a spell bloomed from her palm. “Please lead the way,” she said. “I bite, and I would love to take a souvenir.”
The bartender staggered back, his eyes wide as they stuck to the gray swirls of her power which hovered over her skin.
It was a normal reaction for a non-magic-wielder when they saw the beginning of a spell for the first time. His lips flapped open and closed, and he muttered something that was lost beneath the screeching of the singer on the stage, who was still playing his guitar like the end of the world was near. The bartender stormed away, glancing back every few seconds as if she might follow him to the counter.
Luelle hummed next to her. Violet had almost forgotten she was there. “That was quite the display you put on there.”
Violet felt her cheeks heat. Making a show of her power in front of humans was not a smart move for a fugitive, but alcohol and anger made for a poor mix.
“It’s hard to travel this part of the world alone as a dame,” Luelle said.
“I do all right.” The wind howled through the crevices of the windows, calling her attention outside where a blizzard raged. “This can’t be. It wasn’t snowing when I got here.”
“It’s a spell.” Luelle grimaced before she sighed. “It signals that an emissary has arrived.”
Violet’s throat tightened, and she gripped the edge of the table until she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. Cold crawled up her back, seizing her lungs as her mind caught up with Luelle’s words. “Emissaries don’t exist.” Even though she intended to sound confident, her words rang like those of a scared child. Sweat covered her skin, and the memories she had wanted to forget for years came crashing down on her.
“We both know what this means, dear. I was called here today by destiny to deliver the message.” Luelle leaned forward, resting her arms on the table.
Violet held her breath as past and present collided. Her worst nightmare had returned. An ambassador of the gods, no longer human nor fae. Luelle wasn’t the first she’d encountered in her lifetime, and she wouldn’t be the last if the first message she’d received was true. The old woman’s skin glowed with a reddish tint of magic that made Violet’s nose itch. The scent wafted around them, familiar like the parchment pages of an old book.
“You are doing this now, in the middle of this place?” Violet’s voice shook as she tried to stand up from her seat.
Luelle’s silver hair billowed around her head, and the sound of the tavern died down around them. “Your ancestor called upon Dargan, the God of Shadows, for a soul to be spared. The price of a soul can only be paid with another of the same blood. He shall have your firstborn, and your debt shall be repaid.”
Tears welled up in Violet’s eyes, blurring her vision. The same words that had been spoken to her three years ago, come to haunt her again. Two different emissaries had hunted her down in her most vulnerable moments. The air thinned and the weight of her limbs sank deeper into the calf-skin chair she sat on.
“The God of Shadows will be delighted if I send his messenger back in pieces.” Violet lunged out of her seat, grabbing the knife from her belt, and pressed the sharp blade against the sagging skin of Luelle’s neck. “He can have my future child over my dead body.”
“He will get the soul.” Luelle’s steady voice shouldn’t belong to someone whose blood was beading along the edge of a blade, but her face didn’t show a trace of pain or fear. “I’m not afraid of dying. I have lived enough for ten of you. If you can kill me, do so with a clear conscience. You will release me from this torment.”
Violet hissed and pulled the knife away. She stared at the small cut on the emissary’s throat. It closed in front of her like it had never been there.
There were very few things in this world that could shock her into silence, but her ties to the Shadow God would forever be one of them. The God of Shadows wanted her child—and so did the Iron Crown. It was why she had to run away from her groom.
No matter her desires, a marriage with the expectation of procreation meant a baby. One that would be born to be taken away by the Crown or by a god.
Violet lifted her chin, and her lip trembled. “What will happen if I don’t have any children for him to take?”
“The deal was for Dargan to receive the second magical child born of your bloodline. You, being the first, were spared, but if you cannot produce an heir, he will take you instead.”
Silence descended upon them. Dimly, Violet registered music still playing in the background. Luelle’s lips tightened into a thin line. She appeared just as unhappy with the news she was forced to give.
“How long do I have?”
“We are four emissaries. You’ve already met Cullen, who saved you from drowning in the Hulten lake.”
He could go straight to the shadow world himself and get flayed alive for all she cared. The bastard had tricked her into believing he was a friend, when all along he’d been trying to get her to fall for him, and to give Dargan what the god wanted from her. Her child. The fae were usually cunning creatures, but he had taken it too far.
“Did he save me so Dargan wouldn’t lose his chance of claiming his soul?” Violet wished she could control the bitterness in her tone, but she had cared far too much for this man who had seen her as nothing but a task.
