Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
ALLETTE
Cadoc resumes his discussion with Jeston while I’m led back to the main part of the den, where the overwhelming scent of sweat clings to the air. The longer I’m here, the harder it is to breathe. It doesn’t help that my gaze won’t stop straying to that body.
That could be Jeston.
It could be me.
With my heart in my throat, I meander through the crowded tables, doing my best to act like the other men and women earning their keep. Trailing a finger along a shoulder, offering a flirtatious smile, lingering near the patrons with the most chips. A few slip coins through the gaps in my sash. Others leer, expecting more for their money.
Eventually, Jeston stalks away from Cadoc. One of the guards calls him back, but he ignores the man, coming right up to me, the toes of his boots brushing my slippers as he leans in close to whisper in my ear. “Smile at me and touch my face. Quickly.”
Forcing a smile to my lips, I bring both hands to his cheeks, smoothing my thumbs along the harsh stubble on his jaw. He steps even closer, his nose grazing my ear. “I’m sorry for this,” he murmurs, the words slurred. Without another word, his mouth finds mine. I’m so shocked, that I freeze. Then I feel the press of something cold and sharp against my lip.
The key .
My mind screams at me to pull away, that this isn’t right. My body leans in, allowing Jeston to pass the key from his mouth to mine. The metallic taste turns my stomach as I tuck the key into the side of my mouth.
Jeston steps back, his pupils blown wide as he stares down at my mouth. He swipes his thumb along my lower lip, then whispers, “I want you all to myself. Meet me outside, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
One of Cadoc’s guards waits behind him with a smirk, his beefy arms crossed over his broad chest. “Someone’s eager tonight.”
“You know how it is, Boone,” Jeston says, his gaze still pinned to mine. “You see something you want…you take it.”
I give Jeston a saucy wink and start for the door.
We did it. Now, all we have to do is make it out of here?—
“Leaving so soon?” Carew waits with a casual shoulder propped against the doorframe, blocking the exit.
How am I supposed to hold a conversation with a key under my tongue?
He knows . He knows and is going to chop off your arm too.
Except… He would look angry if he knew, right? He certainly wouldn’t be smiling.
I need to get this damn key out of my mouth.
Pretending to cough, I lift my hand to cover my mouth and spit the key into my fist. A false smile finds my lips as my heart hammers against my breastbone. “Just needed some fresh air.”
Carew watches me like a predator sizing up his prey, the muscles in his shoulders tense, ready to pounce. “Not much of that to be found down here.”
“No, there isn’t.”
He pushes off the frame, stalking close and raising his hand. “May I?”
No. No. No.
I nod.
Cadoc drags his knuckle down the scars on my right shoulder. Bile singes up my throat. Burning. Scalding. Bringing tears of indignation and revulsion to my eyes.
“Who took your wings?” he asks, his voice low. Seductive. A tone reserved for secrets and lovers.
“Does it matter?”
Dark eyes bore into mine. “It could if you want it to.”
There is something intoxicating about this man, something that defies logic. I can practically feel the malice crawling beneath his skin, and yet part of me yearns to give him the king’s name just to see what he would do.
“Someone more powerful than you.”
Cadoc’s eyes widen, sweeping down my body. Assessing. “I see. And what did you do to piss off the king?”
Tell him nothing.
Keep your secrets.
This man—no, this monster , forced Jeston to serve him in exchange for saving Jeston’s mother. He kills people and chops them up. I want nothing to do with him—least of all his help. There’s no telling what price he would expect in return.
I swallow my response and shrug.
He might be able to take my life, but he will never have my truths.
Carew’s brows lift as he traces my scar once more. “You wouldn’t happen to be the same Wynn who had an affair with Prince Senan, would you?” Darkness flashes in his eyes, giving me a glimpse of the villain lurking beneath. “King Boris is awfully protective of his brothers.”
My fists tighten at my sides, the key hidden within biting against my palm. How does he know? “What do you want?”
His hand drops. “You mistake my intentions. I’m here to offer my services to you. What do you want, Wynn?”
Men like this don’t do anything out of the goodness of their hearts. He’s trying to force me into his debt, just like Jeston. If I only wanted one thing, perhaps it would be worth the risk, but I need two: The princess freed and the vials of antidote.
“When I decide, I might just let you know,” I say.
His deep chuckle rumbles over me as he steps aside. “Then I hope we see each other again soon.”
I don’t. If I never hear the name Cadoc Carew again, it would still be too soon.
Broken glass litters the streets, glittering across the cobblestones. The fae light on Dread Row burns green, as if the light is tainted by the evil infecting this place. The short, squatty houses have boards in place of windows. Fat chimneys pump thick black smoke into the too-sweet air while cats scream down alleys with sludge-lined gutters.
I thought the community surrounding my great-aunt’s tower west of the river was bad. Imagine growing up in such a hopeless place as this.
Amidst the small homes looms a lone gray tower with two men guarding the door.
Jeston blows out a harsh breath, tucking me behind him in an alley so small, if I reach out, I could touch the slimy stone walls on either side. He gives the dark wool covering my form a swift tug. “Time to lose the cloak again, Goldie.”
With a deep breath, I unfasten the clasp at my throat and roll up the wool, tucking the garment onto a nearby windowsill. Gooseflesh bubbles across my bare skin.
Jeston drapes his arm around my shoulder, his bark of laughter echoing through the streets. The men jolt to attention, scanning the night. When they see us coming toward them, their mouths twist into sneers.
The first man pats Jeston down, then nods at me. “On the pull tonight, Jes? She’s a right looker.”
Jeston’s lips remain pressed in a flat line. “Keep staring and you’ll have no eyes to close, Wells.”
Their chuckles feel like phantom fingers sliding down my spine, but neither of them touches me as they wave us into the tower.
Inside, golden veins run through the black stone floors, and the walls have been painted a deep, emerald green. The hallway leads to a parlor of sorts, with opulent gold and black furniture. It feels as if there should be people sitting on the sofas or having drinks over at the bar.
With the slightest pressure from his hand at the base of my spine, Jeston steers me deeper into Carew’s lair. The hallway gives way to other corridors with walls of raw, unpainted stone where golden crystals sparkle in mine carts for as far as the eye can see.
“What is all of this?”
“Stardust. Grind it down and add a few more ingredients, and it’s ready for a vial and an empty soul.”
“There’s so much of it.” I might not be well-versed in the ins and outs of stardust dealing, but I do know that dusting is an expensive habit that has put more than one unfortunate fae onto the street. The amount of money these men are dealing with is impossible to fathom.
We continue to a door as black as midnight, with serpents carved into the frame.
I expect terrible things on the other side: a dungeon with instruments of torture on display or an actual pit of vipers. Instead, the large room is filled with shelves of books.
I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. If I didn’t know who owned this tower, I would be enamored by this room. None of this finery seems to fit with what I saw of the monster earlier tonight.
A throne like the one from the den sits behind an imposing desk of black marble with thick golden veins. It’s as if the dust has infected everything in this place.
Framed maps of the kingdom and the realm hang between golden sconces. Stunning oil paintings fill the wall on either side of the door. A fine gallery and ancient library combined.
As beautiful as everything is, there does appear to be something vital missing.
“Where’s the princess?”
Jeston walks to the bookcase along the rear wall and pulls a thick tome. The ground begins to rumble, and the entire shelf slides back, revealing a set of stairs curving into the ground, lit with that same eerie green light from the streets.
We descend into a cavern the size of the office above, where a safe has been set into the far wall. On the other wall sits a large iron cage.
A young woman with dark violet hair waits inside the cage, curled on top of a small bed with a pile of books stacked on the stone floor.
We found the princess.
And from the way she glowers, she doesn’t look very happy about it.