Teague took a long moment to count the coins and study the list. “It’s all here.” He sounded surprised.
“I’m not interested in double-crossing you.”
“Then you’re a different breed from your brother.” Teague flicked a glance at Sebastian’s face. Sebastian’s expression remained unreadable, though his body took on the wary stillness that said Teague had probed too close to something that mattered deeply.
Ari frowned. What did Sebastian’s brother have to do with Teague?
“I need a job that matches my skill set. Who else is going to hire a boy from east Kosim Thalas who managed to lose his job at the palace?”
“And the fact that this job would put you in close contact with the princess is simply a nice bonus?” Teague asked.
A muscle along Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and Ari heaved a dramatic sigh, grateful and terrified when Teague’s attention immediately swung to her.
“You and Maarit, I swear. Always so suspicious. Why shouldn’t we have the bonus of being with each other? You hold all the power. One word and you end me. What are you afraid we’ll do to you when we know you have that sword hanging over my head?”
Teague smiled slowly. “You really are quite the negotiator.”
“I’m just using logic. It doesn’t hurt you to give Sebastian the job. He’s already done most of it for you, by the looks of it. It strengthens your business.”
“Especially when I now know that if he does something that displeases me, I can punish you, and that will be sufficient punishment for him as well.” Teague’s voice was chilling. “Very well, Sebastian, you are my new Kosim Thalas collector. We will sign an employment contract. You collect every debt that comes due and give me the full amount. If you fail even once, the fast-talking princess will pay the price.”
Sebastian glanced at her, his eyes haunted, and she knew he was feeling the terrible weight of being responsible for her fate. Ari understood all too well how it felt to have the fate of others rest on your decisions, but there was no backing down now. For either of them.
“Agreed,” Sebastian said.
“Excellent.” Teague sat at the table and began packing tobacco into his pipe, his pale fingers working quickly while he stared at Ari. “Now, you and I have some matters to discuss.”
“Do we?” She blinked at him, pressing her trembling hands together beneath the table.
He raised a brow at her, and Ari’s heart thudded heavily against her chest.
Oh, stars, did he already know about Maarit catching her in his study? The creepy monster statue must have told him somehow. She’d have to warn Sebastian about the house the first chance she got. If she survived the conversation with Teague long enough to do so.
Whatever she did, she had to convince him that she wasn’t standing in his way. That she wasn’t trying to keep him from what he wanted. She desperately didn’t want to end up like poor Peder with her throat slit by golden thread magically made from straw.
When she didn’t say anything, Teague snapped his fingers and a thin wisp of flame leaped to life in midair. He leaned forward, put the bowl of his pipe beneath the flame, and puffed a few times until the tobacco caught.
She’d seen him do the same thing a dozen times, and it never got any less creepy.
He took a deep drag and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. She felt like she had when she’d been the one to accidentally set the gardener’s shed on fire as a girl, and her mother had simply waited her out until the silence became too much for Ari, and she confessed. Her leg bounced up and down, her fingers twisted together and then came apart, and her mouth went dry. She could feel the words swelling in her chest, ready to spill out in a torrent of hasty excuses and desperate explanations.
Sebastian pressed his thigh against hers until her leg stopped moving.
“What have you been doing with yourself while you’ve been here?” Teague asked with implacable expectation in his voice.
Somehow he knew about the study. Maybe Maarit really was fae, and they had some sort of magical mind connection.
Ari needed to spin the situation back to her favor as fast as possible. Keeping her leg pressed against Sebastian’s, she met Teague’s eyes and said, “Most days I’ve been going over your accounts, finding places you can cut out the middlemen and streamline things, or I’ve been borrowing books from your library.” Though all she’d read was the nursery primer, still hoping that somehow Gretel’s hint would pay off with information Ari could actually use against Teague.
“And today?” Teague’s eyes glowed with fury, and Ari’s stomach dropped.
“But today I got sick of Maarit’s awful excuse for cooking. She was kind enough to go to the market to get some things I requested, so I decided I would help her with the housekeeping.”
Warming to the story she was selling, Ari leaned forward and lowered her voice as if worried Maarit, who slept like the dead, would overhear. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that she’s not very capable of keeping up with the housework anymore. The amount of dust on the main level is absurd. It’s like she hasn’t cleaned in a year. It’s nice that you feel a sense of loyalty toward her and want to keep her on staff, but maybe you could put her in charge of a few maids? And also a cook, because, stars know, the stuff she serves is barely edible.”
“So you helped with the housework today?” Teague puffed on his pipe, his gaze unwavering.
Ari met his eyes, her heart pounding, and tried to work a note of contrition into her voice. “I thought I’d at least take care of the dust. I started in the back parlor, and then moved to your study, and then—”
“My study is off-limits.”
She nodded. “I know that now.” Quickly she gave him the same story she’d given Maarit about the tea and the haziness and her inability to remember anything that was said to her after she’d finished the drink.
There was a long silence once Ari finished talking. Teague studied her—it was unbelievably disturbing that he didn’t blink for minutes at a time—his pipe burning unnoticed in his fingers.
Ari couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t look away. Could barely breathe as she waited to see if he believed her or if he was going to kill her the way he’d killed Peder.
Finally, he stood, and even though he was barely tall enough to reach Ari’s shoulder, he seemed larger than life as he leaned toward her, wrapped his cold, pale fingers around her wrist, and smiled as he felt the proof that her heart was racing.
His voice was little more than a whisper. “I have ways of knowing a person’s weakness. Your weakness, Princess Arianna, is that you think you still have secrets, when the truth is that the only one in this room with any secrets left is me.”
His grip tightened until little sparks of pain shot up her arm.
She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.
“Get up, Princess,” he said. “We’re going to go see if you are telling the truth.”
THIRTY-TWO
HUMANS WERE LIARS—weak and feckless to the very marrow of their bones. The princess was no exception.
He glared at her as he pulled her away from the kitchen table.
She’d been in his locked study. Even if she hadn’t heard the rules Maarit gave her on her first morning at the villa, she knew that a locked door meant stay out.
She was lying about the door being unlocked. Lying about having no reason to go into his study except to dust. The princess was a smart, resourceful girl, and she didn’t do things without an ulterior motive.
She was hunting for something.
Ice filled his veins, and he tightened his grasp around the princess’s wrist until she gasped with pain.
She was hunting, but she was looking in the wrong place. There was nothing in the villa she could use against him. Any humans who knew his secret had long since been buried. He’d made sure of that. And the few fae left on Llorenyae who were old enough to remember his birth would never speak of it to a human.
Death was the onl
y way out of a bargain with Teague, and as soon as he was finished using the king to put himself in a position of unassailable power, he would personally destroy the meddling princess.
But first, he had to expose her deceit and punish her for it.
The princess hesitated as they neared the doorway, and Teague yanked her forward, his fingers gripping her wrist like a shackle. Sebastian moved to follow them, and Teague snapped, “Stay.”
The boy wanted to disobey. Teague could see it in the way his jaw tensed while his eyes followed the princess’s every move. But then he met Teague’s gaze, and his expression became a blank, unreadable mask. His fists relaxed, and he leaned a hip against the table as if to say, “Go ahead. I’ll just wait here.”
Teague smiled. “I didn’t think either of Jacob’s sons had it in them to live up to their father’s reputation for vicious self-preservation, but you may prove me wrong.”
He pulled the princess into the hall and headed toward his study. The boy was smart and ruthless, but the princess was still his weakness. Now that Sebastian was Teague’s top Kosim Thalas employee, he’d be staying in the villa as his predecessor had done. If Teague couldn’t trust him to obey, regardless of his personal feelings for the princess, then the boy would have to be disposed of.
It would be a shame to lose someone with his potential.
“What are you doing?” the princess asked as they reached the study. Her voice was breathless from pain and panic.
“Proving you a liar,” he said softly, and waited for her to flinch.
She didn’t. Instead, her golden cheeks flushed with color, and her voice rose. “I’ve never met anyone more suspicious than you and Maarit. I was dusting. Haven’t you noticed how terrible the place looks? I was helping you.”
“Helping yourself to something of mine is more like it,” he said, letting go of her wrist to unlock the door.
She glared at him and stomped across the threshold. Gesturing wildly, she said, “What could I possibly want out of here? A book written in a language I can’t read? Sounds fascinating. Or maybe I was hoping to decorate my walls with sheets of parchment? I’ve heard it’s all the rage.”
She stalked past his desk, and he couldn’t tell if her voice was shaking from fear or fury. “Oh, I know. I decided to move that creepy statue to my room because it’s not enough that my walls and floor are alive. I’d like to be watched by a monster as well.”
“Stop.” He snarled he word.
She took one look at his face and stumbled back a step.
“Don’t move.” Ignoring her, he moved through the study, counting books, rifling through the stacks of parchment on his desk, and opening drawers with sharp, vicious jerks so he could examine their contents.
Nothing seemed to be missing.
It didn’t make sense. Slowly he approached her and leaned in close to study her face. She held herself still—prey sensing that a predator was waiting for one wrong move to attack.
His voice was dangerously quiet. “This room is always locked.”
She lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug and whispered, “The door opened right up.”
His eyes narrowed. “You stole from me.”
She shook her head, her dark eyes filled with trepidation and anger.
It was the anger that threw him off.
She should be quaking in terror, her knees refusing to hold her. She should be begging for mercy, confessions of her wrongdoing spilling from her like blood from a mortal wound.
He gave her a slow, cruel smile. “Shall we search your rooms, then?”
“Fine.” She lifted her chin to stare him down, but her hands were twisted together in a knot.
He took her elbow, fingers digging into her skin, and said, “Your friend Cleo isn’t the only one who will pay the price for your actions, my dear. I saw the way you looked at my new collector. It would be a shame to lose him, but the wonderful thing about you humans is that you just keep breeding. Anyone can be replaced.”
She remained silent as he escorted her up the back stairs, down the hall past Maarit’s closed door, and into the princess’s room.
“Stay put.” He pointed at a spot in the center of the room and then began his search.
Ten minutes later, he’d upended every drawer, tested every floorboard, and checked over, under, and inside every conceivable surface.
He’d found nothing but the books he’d already said she could borrow.
Her arms were folded across her chest, and she glared at him as he tossed the contents of her last drawer aside. “I suppose you expect me to clean up this mess?”
He cocked his head and watched her in silence.
He’d been locking his study door since the princess took up residence. Maybe he didn’t have anything inside that could jeopardize him, but he hadn’t wanted her anywhere near his contracts.
He’d locked the door before leaving that morning. Hadn’t he?
He couldn’t remember. It was a new routine for him, and he’d been distracted with the heady news that Thaddeus was hosting a trade summit and powerful members of the nobility from across the kingdoms would be present.
It was possible he’d left the door open. It was possible the princess really had been simply dusting. He’d peeked at the back parlor as they’d headed toward the stairs, and it gleamed.
It was possible the princess was truly cowed by the knowledge that he could end her with a single word.
“Never enter my study again,” he said.
She nodded, and he turned on his heel and left her with the mess.
Perhaps the princess, afraid for her life and the lives of those she loved, was trustworthy. Perhaps his new collector, hungry for the recognition that came with the title and interested in staying near the princess, was prepared to put Teague’s interests above his own.
Or perhaps the two of them were the most accomplished liars Teague had met since he’d had the terrible misfortune to care about a wretched girl sitting at a spinning wheel, surrounded by straw.
He couldn’t afford to be distracted from what really mattered. He had wishes to grant, nobility to break, and kingdoms to infiltrate. He needed another trusted employee to watch the girl and keep Sebastian in line—at least until Teague’s business with Thaddeus was concluded and he could kill the royal family, take the throne, and be done with it. He needed someone who could match Sebastian’s ruthlessness and who couldn’t be intimidated by the princess’s quick wit. Someone who would punish both of them without a second’s hesitation.
He needed Jacob Vaughn.
Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to instruct Felman to recall Jacob from Balavata the moment he’d realized that Daan was dead. He’d thought to install Jacob as his new Kosim Thalas collector, but Sebastian had already proven his worth, and Teague couldn’t possibly trust the boy to watch the princess’s moves and report back.
Jacob, however, wouldn’t just report on the princess. He’d hurt her if she stepped out of line. Kill her if necessary. He’d even kill his own son if that’s what Teague wanted. He’d proven that once, and Teague had no doubt he would prove it again if asked.
Jacob would be back in Kosim Thalas any day now, and that would free Teague to focus all of his energy on the young king and the throne that would soon be Teague’s.
THIRTY-THREE
ARI WOKE THE next morning to the smell of frying sausage. Flying out of bed, she snatched the first dress she found and shoved her feet into her sandals. Splashing water on her face, and brushing her teeth with mint at lightning speed, she skipped braiding her hair in favor of running for the stairs.
Maarit was going to cook that sausage until it no longer resembled anything that might safely be called food. Ari was still shaken from yesterday’s terrifying confrontation with Teague, especially because he had decided she needed to stay in her room for the rest of the day with nothing but the occasional visit from Maarit for company, when all Ari really needed was to see Sebastian and feel safe again. Still
, she’d counted it a victory. He hadn’t found the stolen contract. He’d unwittingly given her time to study the poem in the nursery primer, though it hadn’t helped. What she really needed was to find a way to get the Book of the Fae from Rahel’s shop. It should have arrived by now. And there was finally meat in the house because she’d convinced Maarit to buy some at the market. She hadn’t gone through all that just to go back to eating yogurt and dry toast for breakfast because the (ancient, holy stars, why-haven’t-you-retired-yet) housekeeper ruined the sausage.
She skidded into the kitchen and yelled, “Maarit, get away from that stove before you— Sebastian?”
He turned, his tunic straining over his shoulders, a pair of tongs in his hand. “Princess Arianna.” His voice held a wealth of relief and something darker. Something that sounded like regret. He tossed the tongs onto the counter and strode toward her.
Her stomach tingled like she’d had fizzy wine for breakfast.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he reached her. Her heart ached at the guilt in his eyes.
“For what?”
“For not following you when Teague took you to the study. I should have. I know that. I just thought—”
“You thought that if you disobeyed Teague, he’d hurt me to get at you, and then take your job away and kick you out of the villa,” she finished for him. “And if you get kicked out of the villa, I’ll be completely alone.”
He nodded, but misery was etched on his face.
“It was a smart decision.” She stepped closer to him, and willed him to listen to her. “It was the right decision. You have nothing to apologize for. If you’d acted rashly, we could’ve lost everything.”
He lowered his voice and glanced behind him at the open doorway that led out to the dining room. It was empty. “We could’ve lost everything anyway. He could’ve found the contract. You could’ve been hurt. I had to take his word for it that you weren’t because I didn’t see you again yesterday.” He pressed his lips together and then blurted, “I barely slept. I kept thinking that I made a terrible mistake, and that you were alone and afraid, and I should have—”
The Wish Granter (Ravenspire Book 2) Page 23
