Chapter Seventeen Prince Sloth
SEVENTEEN
Prince Sloth
DESPITE MY URGE to remain close to the dreamweaver, I left Lore in the dressmaker’s shop and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Separating now, when the stories were unpredictable, wasn’t ideal by any means.
But with this cursed propriety getting in the way, there was little choice but to go along with it.
Still, unease trickled through me at the thought of letting Lore out of my sight for long.
Horse-drawn carriages and buggies clattered by the bustling street where rows of businesses catered to the upper class.
Men in top hats tipped their brims in my direction, while ladies in their finest day dresses blushed and giggled as they passed by me with their chaperones trailing on their heels.
My scowl deepened.
Being trapped in a historical romance was low on my list of enjoyable ways to spend my time in this cursed realm.
I had no use for the strict society rules that would make things difficult for me and Lore to work alone on this next test.
I already wanted to strangle the woman who’d all but shoved me outside for her interference. At least we’d successfully moved past the last Trial. I would have liked to speak to Lore about it, to glean any information from her about what she’d felt. Clearly, that had to wait.
I glanced back into the dressmaker’s boutique. I knew by my blatant dismissal that I was expected to leave but couldn’t bring myself to move just yet.
Lore had gone unnaturally still for a moment, and when I’d tapped into her emotions, it felt like an ancient void had opened inside her.
One that had beckoned to me.
It was… unsettling.
Then it was gone, and she was as effervescent as ever. And I was left wondering if I’d imagined the dark tug I’d felt.
I couldn’t escape the sense that I was still missing an integral piece of the puzzle when it came to her and her magic.
By now, if she was a dreamweaver, she should be able to at least change small aspects of the stories we were in.
The unanswered questions about her power reinforced my hesitation to leave her, no matter what propriety dictated.
An invisible tether seemed to go taut in my chest.
I rubbed my sternum, brows tugged close.
“Winters!”
I briefly shut my eyes, praying I hadn’t heard my fake name being shouted. I wasn’t that fortunate.
A mortal who looked to be around thirty waved at me from across the street. The only reason he hadn’t reached me yet was because of the parade of carriages rolling by.
I ignored him. With luck he’d be waylaid by the traffic.
Footmen carried packages and boxes to waiting carriages for their mistresses, all of whom were giving me a wide berth.
I was thoroughly disappointed when the mortal who’d been shouting dodged the next wave of carriages and clapped me on the shoulder like we were the oldest of friends.
He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.
“Didn’t expect to see you out and about.” He scrutinized me. “Thought for certain you’d still be with Nadine until one of us dragged you out tonight.”
I gave him a blank look.
He stared at me for a solid moment, then doubled over, laughing.
“You dog! You didn’t remember her name?” He shook his head. “That singer has been after you for an age. She’ll kill you if she knew.”
That at least confirmed Lore wasn’t an opera singer named Nadine I’d apparently taken liberties with. I glanced back into the dressmaker’s shop where she was still milling about with the other women before returning my attention to the exuberant man. Thus far, all seemed well.
If I was forced to participate in this conversation, I might as well learn all I could. Any information might be useful for the Trial.
“I didn’t take Nadine home.”
I scanned the street again, feeling someone’s attention on me. No one was looking our way. Still, I knew I’d felt a prickle of unease.
Which I was starting to associate with one thing.
I stole another subtle look at Lore, then glanced back at my companion.
“I ended up looking for Xavier instead.”
It was a gamble. I had no way of knowing if my former master librarian would be known in the stories we visited, but the man standing beside me took it all in stride.
“That prick?” he scoffed. “I thought he left the country after stealing Autumntide’s prized book.”
That caught my attention. “Did Autumntide get it back?”
“Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him tonight. If he did, I’m sure he’ll let you look it over. You know how prideful he is over his collection.”
“Remind me where we’re meeting him, again?”
He narrowed his gaze on me.
“His engagement ball. You know, to Lady Brimstone? The woman you loathe more than cheap wine?”
I kept my reaction minimal.
Lore’s name didn’t change from story to story.
I don’t know why that surprised me, but I supposed I couldn’t blend in by maintaining my royal title.
“Queen’s tits, Winters. You sure you’re not still knackered after all that bourbon last night?
You were the one who sent the marquess after Xavier as an early wedding gift.
To make up for all the unflattering things you had to say about his bride being the dullest, plainest woman in Season City.
You told him to his face his beloved was only good for her coin purse.
And to get the heir and the spare taken care of and then send her off to their country seat. ”
My hand curled into a fist at my side.
I was spared from knocking him out by an unlikely source.
“Oy!” A bulky man who looked to be an enforcer of some sort shouted from down the avenue. His furious gaze was locked on my companion. “Midsummer! Time to pay up.”
My acquaintance’s attention whipped to the angry man shoving his way through the busy streets, ignoring the shocked gasps of the ladies and the clearing of throats from the highborn men.
He swore roundly and clapped me once more on the shoulder.
“See you tonight, old fellow!”
Midsummer disappeared around the corner, and I welcomed the peace for all of one moment before a footman waved me down.
If I didn’t unleash my magic and kill everyone in this story, it would be a miracle.
“Yes?” I gritted out once I realized he wouldn’t speak unless I acknowledged him first.
“My lord, shall we be getting back to Snowdrift House to get you ready for tonight? You’re expected at Autumntide’s by nine sharp. You asked that I remind you…”
I glanced in the window at Lore. She was now fully dressed in what I assumed her character had been wearing when she’d entered the dress shop.
I wondered if she’d kept those stockings with all the tiny ribbons on. Then I immediately banished the thought.
As if she felt my attention though the window, her gaze found mine.
She looked me over, then tipped her chin, letting me know she was well and to play my part. The story seemed to be going smoothly, but I didn’t trust it would last.
I stared for another moment, hesitating, then nodded back.
I’d meet her at the ball and then we’d search through her fiancé’s home for any signs of the Liber Noctem. And no matter what society deemed proper, I wouldn’t be leaving her side again.
I stood in a shadowy alcove on the upper level of the Marquess of Autumntide’s estate, waiting for Lore to arrive at this obnoxious party. I’d left her before but hadn’t gone too far for too long.
I’d quickly discovered that our fictional townhomes were only separated by a few blocks, so I’d lingered in the shadows outside her family’s home until I’d heard her carriage rolling to the front entrance, then made my way back to mine.
I’d only been here for a short time but already grew restless.
Thus far I’d avoided running into Midsummer for another inane chat, and I’d expertly dodged a few marriage-minded mothers as they vied for my attention near the punch bowl.
Apparently, in this story, I was a known rogue, but I had a title, and my sins were easily overlooked on the marriage market.
A champagne flute dangled from my grasp, near to spilling.
I held it for appearances only.
If Midsummer had been correct, if the Book of Nightmares had indeed found its way into the marquess’s private collection, I wanted to be primed and ready to grab it without anything dulling my senses.
Not that one drink would impact me. Princes of Sin burned through inebriation much faster than mortals.
While I waited for Lore, I’d scouted the upper floor of the sprawling townhome and found two locked doors.
I’d guessed one was the private study of the marquess, and the other I’d wagered was his library based on the scent of leather and parchment that permeated the corridor outside the door.
It took an enormous amount of restraint to not slip inside and search it while I waited for the bride-to-be to arrive.
It would be easy enough to break into the rooms, but I held off on making a move until Lore was accounted for.
Best to not get kicked out of the ball before I had a chance to search for the dark book, especially if my character had pissed the marquess off by slandering his bride the night before.
I didn’t sense any dark, pulsating power coming from the corridor or home, but I wouldn’t give up hope just yet. The book had to be close.
I suspected it would want to remain near Lore so it could accurately twist the stories as needed. Which meant Xavier had to be on the grounds.
I did a slow sweep of the first floor, then crossed over to a balcony that looked out onto the gardens.
No shadows lurked, no signs of dark magic.
Still, there was a growing restlessness inside me.
I suspected it was mostly from the forced separation from Lore and any complications that might arise from the dark book’s meddling.
I wouldn’t relax until the dreamweaver was in my sight.
I returned to my position on the second floor, and the ballroom doors were suddenly thrown open. My attention fell to the herald as he cleared his throat for the announcement.
“The dowager countess Brimstone, Lady Brimstone, and the Earl of Brimstone.”