“Such a cruel game you play,” he whispers.
“Aren’t they all?”
A smile.
“A gift for you,” he murmurs, conjuring four long thin hair needles out of nowhere. He certainly wasn’t hiding them behind his robe.
“For me?”
A denial dies on the tip of my tongue as I catch a glimpse of the little jeweled ornaments on the end of them. A crescent moon adorns the largest. The other three are glittering stars, encrusted with tiny crushed diamonds.
“For you,” he murmurs. “For you shine the brightest of any here.”
Now I know he’s full of shit. As amazing as I am, the women here are beautiful. “That’s so sweet of you.”
Circling around behind me, he slides the first pin into the hair twisted on top of my head. “Sweet. Now I know you’re mocking me.” Another pin. “Does it amuse you to have two powerful princes chasing after you?”
“Are there two of them?” Even though my voice sounds flirtatious, I can’t quite manage to soothe the tension from my shoulders. He’s right behind me with a weapon in hand.
“There could be.” Another pin. And then the final one, sliding into place within my hair a little painfully. He strokes a strand of hair over my shoulders. “Where has he been hiding you?”
“Keir?” I take a nervous sip of my elderberry wine, then force myself to spit it back into my glass before he notices. It’s not every day a girl finds herself the center of a prince’s attention and I’m not fool enough to think this has anything to do with me.
No. Malechus is playing games.
I’m just the pawn he’s using to take a tilt at Keir.
Something about Keir unnerves him.
“He’s kept you from every court in the land,” Malechus muses. “Just think of all you’ve missed out on because of him.”
Murderous fae. Blood curses. Overly ambitious predators. Oh, yes, such a shame. “Maybe His Highness makes up for it in other ways.”
His smile is dangerous and knowing. “You remind me of someone.”
“Was she beautiful?”
He leans closer, forcing me to put my back against the wall in order to maintain some semblance of distance. Over his shoulder I catch a glimpse of the room. He’s managed to herd me away from others quite nicely. “She was beautiful.” There’s hunger roughening his voice as he slips the sleeve from my shoulder. “But better yet, she belonged to another and I wanted her. I like taking what I want.”
Pressing a finger to his chest I arch a brow. “Then your father should have taught you to share better. Being the bone caught between two dogs is hardly flattering, Your Highness.”
His hand curls around my wrist. “Only when you think you’re the one with the leash in hand, is it?”
There it is.
The glimpse of something ugly in his face that I saw the other night.
This seductive tease is nothing more than a mask for his true intentions.
“Tsk, tsk, Malechus.” A voice calls out. “Chasing sloppy seconds again?”
The Lord of Mistmark appears, winding his way between sarcophagi. Falion lurks at his heels like a watchful hound.
A muscle in Malechus’s jaw ticks, and then he pushes away from me, his brow clearing of any irritation. “Ah, my reluctant groom. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you disdained such attractions.”
“I find them tedious.” The look Mistmark gives me, however, is anything but bored. He’s clearly curious as to why I’m here, and perhaps asking if I want to be here. “I find the entire affair tedious.”
“Ah, yes.” Malechus slinks toward him. “But the game is nearly done.”
“Mmm, perhaps.” Mistmark tugs his sleeve into place. “I do like your ambitions, however. It wasn’t enough to merely cross me, but now you’re going to take a tilt at Keir? My, my, someone has grown bold.” He looks at me directly. “You ought to leave, my lady. This isn’t a place for you.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I smile at him. “All the dangly bits painted gold are kind of interesting to look at.”
Falion stares at me as if he can’t quite work out what type of woman I am.
“Falion will escort you,” Mistmark says, and Falion’s head tracks toward him as if to say when-the-sun-shines-in-the-Shadow-Lands.
“That’s very kind of—” There’s a hissing sound across the grotto.
A trio of rambunctious fae have levered open one of the sarcophagi and are peering inside it. One of them screams as if he sees something staring back at him, and then he tumbles inside the enormous casket.
“Those fucking morons.” Malechus’s face goes white with rage. “Do they have any idea what they’re doing? There are dragon spirits leashed into that stone—”
The sarcophagi simply explodes outward.
Falion’s eyes widen and then he slams into Mistmark, wrapping his arms around him before they both vanish. I stagger to my knees behind one of the remaining sarcophagi, with Malechus—of all fae—shoving my head down.
Screams echo through the grotto. And then laughter. Malechus, however, is not laughing.
“Stay here,” he growls, pushing to his feet and stalking in the direction of the explosion.
They’re… gone.
Not merely across the cavern. But gone. Completely. Out of line of sight.
Falion Sifted him somewhere beyond this room, which was, until this point, something I considered impossible.
I gape at the room, slowly lowering my arms.
One of the wreaths is on fire. The grotto is mayhem. Half naked males and females spill from small nooks, clutching arms across breasts and buttocks. Malechus strides through it all, seemingly intent upon murder.
I couldn’t get a better distraction if I’d tried.
I circle one of the enormous coffins, the one that calls to me the most.
It occurred to me that there’s one place to hide someone right out in the open, when you don’t want them found. Somewhere that you can keep a close eye on your prisoner. Somewhere that nobody would ever be able to escape from.
A stone tomb, built to house a dragon’s spirit.
I press my hand against the stone and lean my forehead there.
“Forever,” Soraya whispers in my memories
