As I stared at the knights, silver magic snaked around the recruits. It brushed over my skin in a cool rush of tingles, raising the hair on the back of my neck. The power felt immense. It smelled of the ancient fae forest—of oaks and moss, lichen and rich, fertile soil—and darker things, like bones and blood. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply. Home.
Across from me, Melusine yelped, and my eyes snapped open. She was clutching her arm, staring at it, wide-eyed. She beamed, looking up. “Aengus!” she read.
His green eyes gleaming, Aengus crossed to her, and he led her out of the room.
I scanned the other knights, my breath quickening. Ruadan’s magic whirled around him, darkening his form and making him indistinct. Despite the fact that I needed the World Key from him, I really didn’t want to spend any more time with him.
I shot a glance at the other recruits, and Maddan leaned closer to me. “You’d better hope you don’t get the Wraith. He slaughters his novices.”
I simply snarled at him response. They already viewed me as gutter fae trash, so I didn’t see the point in trying to act dignified around them. Let the fuckers underestimate me.
In any case, I needed to get paired with the Wraith, even if he had the unfortunate tendency to kill his novices. He had exactly what I wanted.
Bran—the goth one—straightened, lifting up his sleeve. Then, he read the name. “Eifion.”
A knight in a crimson cloak lowered his cowl. Olive leaves wreathed his dark hair, and he solemnly crossed to Bran.
The two of them crossed out of the hall, footfalls echoing off the high ceiling.
I breathed in deeply, and a hot pain seared my forearm—like the magic that had branded my neck. I smelled burning skin. I pulled up my sleeve, and my pulse raced. I was both scared and delighted by what I found.
There—tattooed in black on my forearm—was the word Ruadan.
I looked up to meet his gaze.
But instead of walking over to me as the others had, he shot me a look of pure disgust.
Then, he turned and stalked out of the room, his shadowy magic trailing behind him.
For Ciara’s sake, I needed to be matched with him, but my chest clenched all the same.
The other novices snickered behind me.
“What a shocking surprise,” said Maddan. “Even your mentor wants nothing to do with you.”
Chapter 10
Before running off in search of Ruadan, I returned to the beautiful room I’d shared with Melusine for a hot bath.
Now, I wanted to stay in the warm, bubbling bath forever. It smelled of wildflowers and moss in here. Home.
When I sank deeper into the warmth, a vision bloomed in my mind—my dream palace, with the river and the sweet scent of apples. I felt safe there.
Steam curled around me.
Sadly, I was supposed to leave this lovely room. The Old Gods had decided that I should sleep in the same room as a silent assassin who slaughtered his novices, and who was I to argue with gods?
I dried myself off, my gaze roaming over the scars that marred my arms, my abdomen. My chest, too. Basically, my skin was a wreck, but I was proud of it. Every inch of jagged, raised flesh was proof of my ability to survive. There was a crooked scar below my belly button, where a vampire had stabbed me with a sword. A deep divot by my collarbone where a hellhound had impaled me with a spear. My arms, covered in grooves and ridges from a hundred sword fights. And most importantly—the deep scar on the inside of my right wrist where Baleros had branded me with his symbol. As soon as I’d escaped the arena, I’d cut the brand off.
If I’d been human, many of these wounds would have killed me.
I wrapped the towel around myself and gazed at my face in the steamy mirror. The hot bath had pinkened my cheeks, and the water had slicked my long eyelashes into black peaks. My amber eyes looked bright in the late morning light.
At least my gladiator opponents had left my face unmarked.
I knew a woman was never supposed to admit when she thought she was beautiful. It was a mortal sin. Everyone hates a woman who likes how she looks, and women are especially reviled if they’re flawed and still have the balls to feel beautiful. Covered in scars, not the right shape, wrong hair—whatever. You’re supposed to feel bad about it. So I just kept my thoughts about it to myself. I was scarred; I was beautiful, and I didn’t need to know what anyone else thought about the matter.
Baleros’s eighth law of power: Conceal your true intentions.
Considering I had nothing else to wear yet, I’d managed to wash my clothes in the bathtub. Then, I’d hung them out the window to dry in the sun, but they were still damp when I pulled them on. The fabric clung to my skin.
I crossed into the mossy bedroom one last time, already dreading having to hunt down Ruadan.
On the way out the door, I threw my bug-out bag over my shoulder. Ruadan had taken all my knives from me, so if he tried to murder me in my sleep, I’d be at a slight disadvantage. But he’d left me with the lighter and aerosolized deodorant. I guess makeshift flamethrowers weren’t one of the ancient fae traditions.
As I hurried down the stairs, I wondered who Baleros’s “eyes” were in the Institute. And why hadn’t he asked them to steal the World Key for him? Why did he need me to do it?
I crossed outside into the bright air. On the lush, wildflower-covered green, I sniffed the air. The scents of bluebells, orchids, and fresh grass overwhelmed me. But layered under those—pine. Ruadan’s scent. I started moving, my pulse already racing at the thought of seeing the Wraith again. I tracked his smell across the green, and it grew more powerful as I walked. The sunlight warmed my skin.
At last, the scent of pine led me to a circular tower with thin arrow slits and diamond-paned windows at the top. It stood near a low stone gate that opened to the river. I was pretty sure that long ago, human monarchs had ferried traitors through it, from the Thames into the Tower. Once through the gate, they’d never taste freedom again.
Right now, I felt a strong sense of kinship with those poor souls.
I circled the tower’s base until I found a black, studded door, and I pushed through it into a stark stairwell.
As I climbed the winding stairs, I reviewed my mission. I had to stay focused on the World Key, without ever giving away my true intentions. I needed Ruadan to let down his guard around me, which right now seemed like it would be nearly impossible.
How would I earn the trust of the demonic assassin, someone so hell-bent on slaughtering his enemies that he wouldn’t speak until he’d achieved the task?
My footsteps echoed off the stone tower walls.
Baleros’s tenth law of power: Always think three steps ahead.
Once I’d stolen from the Wraith, what the fuck was my exit strategy?
I didn’t have one. Even if I managed to kill Ruadan before I made it out of here, in itself a difficult task, I’d then find myself with the entire Order of Shadow Fae hunting me down to the ends of the earth until they meted out a gruesome death.
At this point, I was deeply regretting having never learned the ancient fae art of glamour. Though maybe even that wouldn’t help protect me as a fugitive on the run from the Shadow Fae.
I swallowed hard, following Ruadan’s masculine scent down a long, vaulted hallway. Maybe I could steal the World Key without anyone here noticing it was me.
What if I found a way to pin the crime on the prince? Two birds, one stone.
Baleros’s eleventh law of power: Use the destruction of your enemies to achieve your own goals.
At last, the scent of pine led me to a door at the end of the hall. I sucked in a deep breath, then knocked. After a moment, Ruadan pulled it open. He glared down at me, silver flashing in his eyes.
For the first time, I saw him without his cloak on. He wore knives strapped to his waist, and a sword on his back. His shirt hugged his body, which looked thickly corded with muscle. I could see a few scars on the exposed skin of his wrists. Every inch of him wa
s a warrior, and I got the sense that he was old. I wondered how many battles he’d fought over the centuries, how many lives he’d taken. It was hard not to feel small and vulnerable as I stood in front of him—a feeling I was not at all accustomed to.
Coldness gleamed in his eyes, and the vicious glare he was giving me slid right through my bones. No wonder the Shadow Fae terrified everyone.
I loosed a breath, trying desperately to ignore the instinct that told me to run away from him as fast as I could. “Looks like we’re matched. I can see by the look on your face that you’re as thrilled as I am.”
That look kept me rooted in place, and I willed my breathing to slow down. I tried to imagine my frantic heart beating a little slower. I had to gain control.
He pulled the door open wider, and I crossed into the room. Ruadan’s room was more sparsely decorated than the one I’d slept in last night. A perfect match for his effervescent personality.
There was no moss on this floor—just stark, gray stone. And in here, no flowers grew. Instead, flecks of jet-black rocks gleamed in the stone walls. His bed seemed to rise from the stone floor itself, as if the ancient flagstones had sprouted a resting spot just for him. Likewise, a small stone table seemed to grow from the floor, along with seats surrounding it.
The fae had altered so much of this place with their nature magic. Truthfully, it was all more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen. Even this bleak design.
A bureau stood on one side of the room—and on the other, Ruadan’s arsenal hung on the wall: axes, swords, crossbows, knives…. Ruadan had about forty-seven different ways to kill people in here.
I let out a low whistle. “Well, Ruadan, love what you’ve done with the place. Charming and quaint as fuck.”
He simply stared at me. A phantom wind whispered into the room, toying with a lock of his pale blond hair. I felt a pulse of his dark magic ripple over me, rushing over my skin in cold, electric tingles. My back arched at the raw power, pulse racing out of control. I willed myself to calm down again, breathing more slowly, and it took me a moment to compose myself.
I pointed at the bed. “I notice there’s only one bed.”
His posture was rigid. When I’d first met him, he’d projected a detached disinterest. Now, he stared at me with a sort of disturbing, intense curiosity, like I was an alien species he wanted to eviscerate and study. I couldn’t say it was a warm look.
Good. I just wanted him to get the hell out of the room, so I could search it from top to bottom. The World Key might be in here. Perhaps I could use his distaste for me to drive him out of here.
I slipped out of my boots, then sauntered over to his bed. I sat on the edge, and I unzipped my bug-out bag. I rifled past matches, candles, and chocolate bars until I found a bottle of Jack buried at the bottom.
Aengus had said I wasn’t the sort of recruit Ruadan would like—that he hated slobs, drunks, fuck-ups, bar-brawlers, wastes of space…. Maybe that was the best way to get a little alone time in here.
It was also possible that I was really good at finding excuses to justify drinking alcohol.
In any case, I took a sip of bourbon, reveling in the warm tingle down my throat. Then, another, longer sip.
I handed it to Ruadan, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. “Here. I think maybe you could use some of this. You’ve obviously got your knickers in a twist about something, and this might help.”
Strands of his dark magic lashed the air around him. Then, he pivoted, stalking out of the room.
Beautifully done, Arianna. Let no one say that the ability to piss people off wasn’t within my skill set.
And now, I had a World Key to find. I wanted to get Ciara the hell out of that room.
Chapter 11
I started with the stark, black bureau. I rolled open the drawers, finding row after row of tidy black and gray clothing. Trousers, sweaters, even underwear. Finding nothing on the first round, I went through it a second time, slipping my fingers into pockets, checking the edges of the drawers. Touching everything, basically. As I worked, adrenaline raced through my blood. I was all too aware of what could happen if Ruadan caught me doing this. The threat of execution hung over me like a … well, like an executioner’s sword.
Once I’d completely cleared the bureau, I moved over to Ruadan’s bed. It smelled of him, and I found the scent disturbingly pleasing. I pulled down the sheets, slid my hand into the pillowcases. I scoured every inch of that thing before putting it all together exactly as it had been. And at every moment, I was painfully aware that Ruadan could bust into the room. Or more likely, waft into the room like smoke so that I wouldn’t notice him until his hands were around my throat, ready to snap my neck. I worked as quickly as I could.
I wasn’t a tidy person, but I knew how to clean. It was just that I didn’t normally expend the effort, because honestly, who cares? I stepped back, scanning the bed to make sure it looked exactly as it had when I’d come in. Looked perfect to me.
Then, I surveyed the room once more. The only other pieces of furniture in the entire place were the rough stone table and a black desk that stood under one of the windows. But the desk didn’t have drawers, just a few blank pieces of paper on top, and a pen.
Still, something about the placement of the desk seemed odd. Everything in this room was so symmetrical, so tidy. But the desk stood unevenly between the two windows—too far to the right.
I crossed to the desk, and I got down on my hands, crawling under it. I craned my neck to look up. Nothing. Then, I scanned the stone beneath the desk. At first, I found only a smooth expanse of flagstone. But after a moment, I noticed something irregular about one of the squares—a smaller square was inset into it.
Now, my pulse was racing wildly. Could this be what I was looking for? I was on my hands and knees under a desk, in a position that had no graceful explanation or exit plan. But I had to find out what he was hiding….
I pried open the small stone, my heart hammering. But what I found wasn’t a key. No, it was a small piece of parchment.
My heart raced out of control as I pulled it out. I sucked in a sharp breath, reading through a list of names—
Adonis
Kratos
They were two of the horsemen—Death and War.
A number of other angelic names ran down the list. Refugees and fugitives from the war decades ago. Then, another name that made my heart leap out of my chest.
Baleros.
I hadn’t found his key. I’d found his kill list.
It was about that moment that I became aware of a disturbing feeling of hairs standing on my nape, and goosebumps rising on my skin. I hadn’t heard Ruadan come in, but I could feel him looking at me. Generally, I was very good at hearing footfalls and heartbeats, breaths moving closer behind me. But he was the gods-damned Wraith, and he didn’t give anything away.
I swallowed hard, painfully aware of how I looked right now. On my hands and knees beneath his desk, in a skirt that was already too short, my pink knickers probably hanging out, and clearly reading his kill list. I loosed a long breath, shoving the kill list back into place.
I had a terrible feeling my name would be on there soon.
Then, I slid the stone panel back into position.
With my pulse racing, I backed out from under his desk, my mouth dry. When I turned to look at him, his violet eyes had darkened to pure black.
Oh, shit. That was generally the signal that a demon was about to rip your head off.
My knees felt a little weak. “I dropped a coin. It rolled away. Oh well.”
Smoky magic carved the air around him, and he shifted in a blur of black to his bed. He lifted his pillowcase, sniffing it. He looked at me, snarling.
Oh, hells. He could smell me all over his bed.
In another blur of black, he was at his dresser, sniffing the air.
At this point, there was really no purpose in denying that I’d searched his entire room. So I started backing up toward the
door. “I just wanted to know who I’d be living with. You’d do the same.”
My gaze flicked to his arsenal of weapons, but I already knew I couldn’t move as fast as he could. He’d be there before I landed my first step. Instead, I continued to back toward the door. His fury spooled out of his body in dark magic, like spirals of ink sliding through water, darkening everything around him. I opened the door behind me, keeping my eyes on him as I stood in his doorway.
When Ruadan growled, my stomach dropped. He lunged for me, picking me up by my ribcage. The next thing I knew, I was landing flat on my arse on the stone floor.
He’d literally thrown me out of his room. Hard. Just a moment later, he hurled my bug-out bag at me, and I raised my arm to block it from hitting me in the head.
“I want my whiskey back!” I yelled as he slammed the door.
He hurled the whiskey bottle at me, and I caught it easily.
And thus began the first day of our beautiful anathra relationship.
Since Ruadan had thrown me out of his room, I spent the rest of the afternoon searching the Institute’s grounds.
I’d learned that half the rooms were barred by ill-tempered ogres. Granted, I was pretty sure I’d managed to charm one of them—a beer guzzler who’d nicknamed me Viscountess von Tittington and kept trying to get me to sit in his lap. I suspected anyone with boobs could charm him, to be honest. Already, he’d told where I could find the Institute’s library, and I was now on my way up a hidden spiral staircase, lured by the scent of old books.
At the top of the stairwell, an ancient fae guarded the entrance. Her white hair cascaded down a midnight blue cloak, flecked with stars. A high ceiling arched above us, as tall as a medieval cathedral’s. I didn’t think this had been here at all when the humans had controlled it, but I loved the addition. Just like the librarian’s cloak, it been decorated with silver stars, moons, and constellations dappling midnight-blue paint.
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