“He’s protected,” one of them says slowly.
“Not for long,” says the taller man. “The bastard may rule the dark, but he’s not the only dangerous fae in the city. And I have… friends who would very much like to pay him back for past endeavors. We can’t counter his magic, but maybe we don’t need to?”
They start toward me and I realize I’m not very well-hidden down here.
I turn and slam into a tall, hard body.
Before I can suck in a sharp breath, a tattooed finger presses against my lips, and a hooded stranger pushes me against the shelf.
Where did he come from?
A hand claps over mine as I reach for the knife at my hip, and the pressure of his finger intensifies. The shiver of magic slipping over my skin feels like cool water, rather than the molten glide of honey that reminds me of Thiago’s magic, but he’s clearly laying a veil over me.
Fine. I fall into stillness. I can be quiet. Besides, this is not the place for a sudden struggle, and I suspect he’s not involved with the trio of conspirators.
The man in the green cloak sweeps past, tossing his hood back as he slips out the door of the bookshop. Blond, handsome in a foppish way. He doesn’t even glance at us. The others have vanished, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still here. Glamor and illusions are gifts that many fae wield, though few of them are quite as skilled as Thiago.
The stranger is skilled.
The fae in the green cloak should have noticed us. We’re right there.
My breath catches. Thiago’s only mentioned one other male who might be able to veil like this. I take a closer look at him as he slips his hood back.
Long, silky-black hair gathers into a half-knot at the back of his head, and intense eyes as black as the heart of night itself return my stare. There’s a hint of the Danesh Su about his face—those eyes and cheekbones that could cut like a knife—but it’s the tattoos that crawl up his throat that capture my attention.
A blood moon, glowing red for a second, before it fades into whorls of black ink.
Erlking’s hairy cock….
“The Prince of Shadows sends his regards,” the stranger purrs, lifting his finger from my lips.
Chapter Seven
I try for the knife again, and the bastard simply takes it off me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides, balancing the tip of it on his finger before he flips it, and then presents the handle to me. “If I wanted you dead, Princess, then you wouldn’t have seen me at all.”
True. It stills a few of my nerves. Not all of them, though.
“How did you know who I was?” I can still see my fake red hair tangling over my shoulders.
The Prince of Shadows twists his hands together in front of his forehead, then slowly parts them. A golden eye appears. A tattoo of pure magic, not ink. “Long ago, I traded my soul for the ability to see through magic itself.”
Very mysterious. Also, very hospitable of him to answer. “I’d swoon, but my husband has inured me against charming strangers. He also lies through his teeth when I try to corner him on a topic. “Theron himself, I presume?”
“Such a name might exist.” He produces the Sorrow’s Tear, brushing the red-black petals against his lips. “I received your husband’s calling card.”
“My husband is waiting for me at the Wayfarer, and you’re probably lucky he’s unaware you’ve cornered me here.”
Where in the Darkness is Finn?
Theron smiles, as if I’m blundering down the path he wants me to take. Oh, look at me, a mysterious charming scoundrel who wouldn’t dream of sticking a knife in someone’s heart.
“Ah, Princess.” He brushes the rose against my lips. “I’m not afraid of your husband. You’re in my territory now.”
I bat the rose aside. “Touch me again with that rose and I’ll shove it up your ass, stalk first.”
“Strange. You seemed to enjoy it earlier.”
So he’s been watching us. “My husband has the right to touch me. You don’t.”
He holds the rose up in surrender, a smile on his lips.
“As enjoyable as this is,” I continue, “you’re not here to try and charm me.”
“You’re right. I’m not. What does he want?” Despite the earlier smile, there’s a dangerous look in his eyes.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because he’s being watched.”
I run the tip of my tongue over my teeth. “By whom?”
“Friends,” he replies. “Not friends.”
“This… Gray Guild.”
Silence. Theron stares at me for a long moment. And I realize there’s no reason to suspect he’s not involved in this.
The guilds rule the city. They rose to power during Queen Araya’s reign and Thiago allows them to remain, for it gives the people of the city a voice. It also saves him from having to negotiate petty little treaties and grievances.
As long as the guilds remain in their place, there’s no reason to strike them down.
But Theron is the head of his own guild.
“Trouble comes,” he murmurs. “But which side of the blade will it come from?”
“If trouble comes, then Eris is going to tear this city apart to snuff it out,” I point out. “And she will remember who stood at my husband’s side. And who did not.”
“Then consider this a gift, freely offered. The guilds meet once a month in public, but there are… certain members who meet privately too. Two months ago, a fae lord appeared in the midst of their gathering offering them assistance in their cause.”
“To overthrow my husband.” Two months ago…. Right about the time those pamphlets started circulating. I knew Mother was somehow involved in this. But who would she send? “What did he offer?”
“Gold,” Theron replies bluntly. “Information. And warriors.”
“And how much did he offer you?”
Theron arches a brow. “Enough gold to drown myself and all the souls of this city.”
“I believe my husband said he’d match it if you came to him.”
He glances at the rings on his fingers. “I’m not merely interested in gold. This city
