The Wish Granter (Ravenspire Book 2)

by C. J. Redwine

  “Keeping watch over you is my job.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Sebastian, shrewd and calculating, and his body tensed as he moved to stand beside the princess.

  The princess tossed her hands into the air, her voice rising. “What is there to see? I sleep, I eat—if you call consuming plain, tasteless food eating—I check ledgers and make expansion plans for Teague, and then I sleep some more.”

  “And you sneak into private studies—”

  “I was dusting. Something you might want to try once in a while, since you’re so insistent that the housekeeping is your job.”

  “Were you dusting when you somehow got a message to your special friend here telling him to come rescue you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. How is he supposed to rescue me? One word, Maarit. That’s all it takes, and I’m gone. Forever.”

  Sebastian watched the back-and-forth between them closely. It seemed impossible that anyone could be in danger from the old woman, but he could sense the tension that vibrated through the princess’s body. He could hear the way her breath caught between her words.

  She was afraid.

  The woman came toward them, and suddenly Sebastian understood why.

  How did a woman that old move so fast? Just seconds ago, she’d been shuffling along like she could barely move one foot in front of the other. Now, she was practically gliding over the marble floor, her eyes full of rage.

  In one smooth step, Sebastian put himself between the princess and Maarit and then reached for the sack of coin he had chained to his belt.

  “I’m not here to rescue her,” he said in a quiet, controlled voice that belied the way his muscles wanted to tense so he could meet the incoming threat with force. “I’m here to offer my services to Teague.”

  The old woman pulled up short and stood five paces away, watching him warily. “The boss isn’t going to exchange the girl for you.”

  “My services have nothing to do with her. I need a job. I think Teague is going to want me as an employee.”

  She sniffed and looked at the bag in his hand. “What’s that?”

  “That’s between me and Teague. Where is he?”

  “Out on business.” The woman glared at him and then at the princess for good measure. “Don’t just stand there with the door open. You’ll let in all the rain.”

  The princess moved past him, and Sebastian quickly entered the villa, shutting the door behind him.

  “Teague leaves before dawn and doesn’t come home until after lunch,” the princess said, giving Maarit a wide berth as she moved through the entrance hall.

  Sebastian kept his expression neutral.

  He’d spent five days shaking Teague’s empire down to its very core. He’d moved through the list he’d taken from Felman, collecting debts where he could and secretly paying them with his own coin when he found people too destitute to honor their contracts. He’d survived confrontations with the other three street bosses. He’d beaten back a steady stream of runners and other low-level players who didn’t approve of him skipping ranks and going straight for the top.

  Everyone on the street knew that Sebastian Vaughn was collecting in Teague’s name and that crossing him resulted in nothing but pain and misery. It had to be enough to get himself hired to replace Teague’s Kosim Thalas collector, Daan. If it wasn’t, Sebastian was out of ideas.

  Holding himself poised and ready in case the woman became a threat again, Sebastian raised a brow as the princess picked up a sword that was lying on the floor and muttered, “So glad I risked my life to protect yours.” She aimed the words at Maarit.

  “I didn’t ask you to protect me,” the old woman snapped.

  “Honestly, Maarit. You are this close to no cake.” The princess met his gaze, and something shifted in her expression. Something that told him she needed him to hear what she wasn’t saying. “I’m going to go put this away in the library and then change out of my wet dress. Since it’s almost lunchtime, I’ll meet the two of you in the kitchen and save you from her cooking. You’re welcome.”

  She stalked out of the room, but not before he’d given the barest hint of a nod. She’d delivered her words rapidly, but lingered for a second on the word two.

  He needed to keep Maarit with him and give the princess a few minutes alone.

  “What did she protect you from?” he asked before Maarit could follow the princess.

  “From you.” She pointed one gnarled finger at his chest. “Pounding at the door. Scared us both. Where are the guards?”

  “They’ll be waking up any minute now.” Sebastian took a step closer to Maarit, crowding into her space even though it sent waves of panic crashing through him and set his teeth on edge. “So the princess heard what you both thought was someone dangerous at the door, and she grabbed a sword and ran toward the sound. To protect you.”

  And didn’t that sound exactly like Ari.

  “I didn’t ask her to do that,” Maarit snapped, but her frown softened.

  “You didn’t have to,” he said quietly. “Now, where’s the kitchen?”

  Maarit led the way past a sitting room and into the kitchen, a generous space with large, rain-streaked windows, enough knives and heavy pots to use as decent weapons in a pinch, and two separate exits. She motioned for him to sit at a long rectangular table lined with benches on either side. He sat with his back to the wall and watched her.

  The older woman said nothing while she tossed a hunk of bread and a handful of seasoned olives on a plate and put it in front of him. Her eyes wandered to the coin bag he’d unchained and placed on the table at his elbow. He leaned forward to block her view.

  “That is for Teague alone.”

  She sniffed and turned away. There was a whisper of sound from the north doorway that led to the dining room, and Sebastian turned to see the princess walking into the kitchen. She’d changed out of her damp dress and braided her hair. Taking one glance at his plate, she said, “Don’t eat that.”

  He leaned back and watched as she checked the firebox beneath the stove and then put a skillet onto one of the raised cooking surfaces.

  “I made him lunch.” Maarit sounded offended.

  “No, you put something barely edible on a plate.” The princess grabbed bacon, eggs, and a slab of cheese from the icebox. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you one too.”

  “I’m not hungry. I had the marketing today and then all this extra excitement. It’s enough to wear a body out.” Maarit yawned and looked at the door that led to the dining room and from there to the rest of the villa.

  Sebastian watched the tiny smile playing at the corners of the princess’s mouth with interest. What was she thinking about? When he realized his interest had wandered to the way the fabric of her dress draped across her hips, he made himself stare down at the plate Maarit had given him while the smell of frying bacon filled the air and his thoughts sent heat spiraling through his body.

  She was still the princess. And after what he’d done in east Kosim Thalas to earn Teague’s trust in the last five days, he was something worse than a servant.

  But even though he could come up with one hundred reasons why he shouldn’t notice her skin or her hips or the secret smiles she tried to hide, all he really wanted to think about was the fact that he’d stood close to her. He’d touched her. And he’d forgotten to brace for pain.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one?” the princess asked Maarit as she set a plate in front of Sebastian. A fried egg and several slices of bacon were layered over a thick piece of toasted bread and topped with melted cheese. His stomach instantly reminded him that he’d barely eaten in the last day and a half. He hadn’t been able to afford it. Every spare coin he’d gained from selling the palace’s horse had gone to relocating Felman or to helping pay out contracts owed to Teague.

  “That bacon was for breakfast,” Maarit grumbled.

  “There’s no wrong time to eat bacon.” The princess set another plate beside Sebastian’s, her secret smile
back in place.

  Maarit turned for the door. “The boss will be home shortly. If I were you, I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

  Sebastian waited until the woman left the kitchen before asking, “Where is she going?”

  “She naps all afternoon. On days when she’s gone to the market, she naps even earlier. She’s really old.” The princess swept around to Sebastian’s side of the table, settled onto the edge of the bench, and then scooted until she was beside him.

  He was acutely aware of the slim space between them. Of the warmth of her body against his rain-chilled skin. He took a bite of his food before he said something that could ruin everything.

  “Why were you pounding on the door?” she asked softly, her eyes darting toward the doorway where Maarit had disappeared to go upstairs. “I was sure it wasn’t you because I thought you’d be more subtle.”

  “I got tired of waiting for Teague to come to me. And I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were all right.”

  She smiled down at her food, and her cheeks turned pink.

  What did that mean? That he amused her? That she was embarrassed by his actions?

  A second later, she twisted to look at him. “Wait. Why would Teague come to you?”

  “Because I have something that belongs to him.”

  Her eyes widened. “Please tell me you didn’t steal from him.”

  “Says the girl who planned to do just that.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “No, I didn’t steal from him. You’d have to be a fool to do that.”

  She suddenly found something fascinating to study on the ceiling. “Well . . . I wouldn’t necessarily go that far.”

  He froze in the act of putting another bite in his mouth. Slowly setting his fork down, he said, “You didn’t.”

  Her eyes found his again, and there was equal parts terror and exhilaration on her face.

  “Princess—”

  Swiftly she leaned forward and whispered against his ear, “I broke into his study and stole a blank contract. Maybe I can find a weakness in the wording. Something we can use.”

  He closed his eyes at the thought of her breaking into Teague’s study alone. “Thank the stars you weren’t caught.”

  “Well, actually . . . Maarit found me in there, but I’d hidden the contract, so . . .”

  She kept her lips next to his ear, and he realized that he’d stopped listening because her body was pressed against his arm, and soft tendrils of her hair were tickling his face, and she smelled like plums and rainwater, and he couldn’t think.

  Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before? He’d spent hours moving her into the correct position for daggers or throwing stars. Hours sparring with her, their bodies touching briefly every time she struck or blocked. And his thoughts had been perfectly clear. Perfectly sane.

  Now he sat here like an idiot, wishing he knew how to finish closing the distance between them and knowing he never would.

  “Are you listening to me?” she asked, pulling back so she could look him in the eye.

  “I . . . What were you . . . I got distracted.” Was his face on fire? It felt like it was on fire.

  “By what?” She glanced around the room and then met his eyes again. Her expression softened, and that shy, secret smile played across her lips.

  His words were rushed. “You said you took a contract.”

  “That’s why I needed to go to my room and change without Maarit deciding to tag along. I’d folded it up and stuffed it down my”—she gestured toward the low scoop of a neckline on her dress—“you know.”

  Yes, his face was definitely on fire.

  He shrugged like he had no idea what she meant, and her smile widened. The silence between them became a thing of tension and anticipation that made his heart thud against his chest while his stomach felt as if he’d jumped from a cliff.

  He cast about for something—anything—to say that would break the tension, but then they heard the front door to the villa open. Footsteps moved briskly down the main hallway and into the back of the house. A moment later, the footsteps returned, rapidly crossing into the dining room and toward the kitchen.

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Don’t do anything dangerous for me.”

  He squeezed back and then let her go as Teague, his pipe in his mouth and his golden eyes ablaze, entered the room.

  THIRTY-ONE

  TEAGUE STALKED ACROSS the kitchen and stood in front of Ari and Sebastian on the opposite side of the table, his exquisitely tailored clothing still unwrinkled and mostly dry. Ari guessed even the rain didn’t dare upset the Wish Granter.

  The rain didn’t, but Sebastian apparently did. Ignoring the way Teague’s eyes glowed with fury, the way his lips clamped around the stem of his pipe in a hard, white line, Sebastian rose to his feet, picked up the sack he’d brought with him, and tossed it onto Teague’s side of the table. It hit with a thud and the jingle of coins.

  Teague yanked his pipe from his mouth and said in his polished marble voice, “How did you find this place?”

  “I’m resourceful.” Sebastian’s voice was the kind of dangerous quiet that meant he had himself under tight control, but if you pushed him too hard, he would come off his chain with a vengeance. Ari had only ever heard him use that voice once—when he was escorting her through east Kosim Thalas and the boys, who were gathered on doorsteps and street corners, called out creative suggestions for things Ari could do with her body.

  At the time, she’d felt comforted that Sebastian clearly wouldn’t tolerate anyone abusing her honor. Now she took one look at Teague’s feral golden eyes and scrambled to her feet, panic closing her throat.

  Sebastian wasn’t messing with a mouthy boy now. He was facing down a fae monster, and Ari didn’t have any bargaining capital left if he got in over his head.

  “She’s under contract to me.” Teague’s eyes flicked over her, and even though her skin was flushed with heat, Ari shivered. “There’s nothing you can do to rescue her. And now you’ve invaded my home, assaulted my guards—”

  “I’ve done far more than that.”

  “Sebastian,” Ari whispered, but he didn’t look at her.

  “Oh, I’ve heard.” Teague cocked his head to study Sebastian the way someone might study an ant before grinding it to death beneath his boot. “Robbing me, beating my employees, making sure I know that you know where all my business holdings are.”

  Sebastian ignored him and pulled a folded piece of parchment from an inner pocket of his vest.

  “Did you expect me to find you? To stop you?” Teague’s smile was cruel. “No doubt that was your plan. Distract me by making me believe one boy poses a threat to my empire so that I fail to pay attention to the true prize you’re trying to take from me.”

  The food she’d eaten was a rock resting in her stomach as Ari said, “I’m not a prize.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, my dear.” Teague’s cold voice filled the room. “You are intelligent, intuitive, and are showing signs of being good at finding ways to trim the fat off my business and make me a far richer man. Plus, with you as my prisoner, the king has no choice but to advance my interests in the other kingdoms however I instruct him to. I’m pleased with my choice to spare you, but now I must weigh that choice with this boy’s actions.”

  Sebastian unfolded the parchment he held and cleared his throat.

  “How much has he taken from me? How much work has he cost me by incapacitating my employees?” Teague stared at Ari, and she tried hard not to tremble beneath the icy rage on his face. “Is it more than what you bring to the table? An investment is only worth keeping if it continues to pay dividends.”

  He was going to take her soul. She could practically see the plan forming in his mind, the intent spilling out of the icy, unreachable part of him that showed its face whenever he thought she might try to cross him.

  Her knees shook, and there was a strange ringing in her ears as he locked eyes with her and opened his mouth. She gra
bbed for the table with shaking hands and dropped to the bench as her legs refused to hold her.

  “Aegeus Pappos. Pipe weed shipment. Thirty kepas.” Sebastian’s voice was steady.

  Teague frowned.

  “Nico Alferis. Weekly protection fee for his smithy. One hundred kepas.”

  Teague broke Ari’s gaze and looked at Sebastian instead. Ari wrapped her arms around her stomach.

  “Zenia Demataki. Four drams of lily root to treat her daughter’s illness. Two hundred seventy-five kepas.”

  “What is this?” Teague rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his ivory pipe and reached for the bag of coin with his free hand while Ari struggled to breathe past the noose of panic that had wrapped itself around her throat.

  “That is the payment due from everyone on your collection list.” Sebastian met the fae’s eyes.

  “And how did you get that list?” Teague’s voice was far too quiet for Ari’s comfort.

  “I stole it.” Sebastian seemed to take up more space than he had before. Maybe it was the grim confidence in his voice or the way he flexed his (still unfairly distracting) shoulders. “I beat my way through Felman and his guards, took the list, and then beat anyone who tried to take it from me. I’ve spent the last five days collecting every debt owed to you. It’s all in the sack.”

  “And you think this is going to buy the girl’s freedom?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I think this is going to get me a job. I no longer work at the palace. I’m not interested in being a runner or in guarding a street boss. I want to be your new Kosim Thalas collector.”

  Ari pressed her hands together to keep them from shaking as she stared at Sebastian. He’d stepped back into the world he hated. The world he’d escaped from.

  For her.

  The panic around her throat eased, though the expression on Teague’s face kept her heart racing in fear.

  Teague leaned back on his heels, his thumb feverishly rubbing the pipe as he contemplated Sebastian. “You did all this to apply for a job?”

  “Not just any job. The top job. You don’t get a position like that without proving that you’re capable.” Sebastian threw the list onto the table and gestured toward the sack of coins. “I’m capable.”