Chapter 7
The Ember Gate was a living thing—breathing, pulsing, watching.
Riven could feel it in the floorboards, in the tremble of bass through his boots, in the way every spell-tinged light pulsed like a heartbeat.
This place thrived on secrets and desperation.
He’d grown up around that energy. He knew how to wear it like a second skin.
He slid through the crowd, past a pair of elves swaying in shared intoxication, their fingers glowing faintly from the narcotic threads in their drinks. In the corner, a shadowed booth pulsed with glamour that whispered promises Riven didn’t care to hear.
“Keep your eyes open,” Thane’s voice murmured in his ear, cool and steady. “Lareth will be near the back. He favors control—he likes to sit above everyone else. Watch for the balcony.”
Riven didn’t respond. The tension coiled low in his spine was equal parts the job and the bastard whispering in his ear. Thane’s voice had settled over him like smoke, clinging in places Riven didn’t want to admit were warm for the contact.
He spotted the balcony above the dance floor. Red lighting bled over the edges, and two hulking figures flanked the stairwell like leashed dogs. Muscle, not brains.
Perfect.
Riven moved like he belonged. Not with arrogance—no, that would draw suspicion.
He wove himself into the crowd, adopting the posture of someone desperate for a taste of money, for something to lift him from the gutter.
He even let his gaze flick up to the balcony, just once, with a flash of calculated longing.
It worked. One of the guards lifted his chin slightly, tracking him.
“You’ve got his attention,” Thane said. “Let them come to you.”
Riven peeled off toward the bar. He ordered something cheap and ugly, then nursed it with his back to the crowd. He didn’t wait long.
One of the guards approached—tall, sallow-skinned, one ear pierced with a Houseless tag. His eyes swept Riven with practiced disdain.
“You look like someone who wants to make a deal,” the man said.
Riven kept his voice low, roughened just enough. “I heard Lareth is making actual money out here, not chump change.”
The guard didn’t smile, but his eyes flickered in approval, or hunger.
“You know how to show respect?”
Riven forced himself to look away first. “Yeah. When it’s earned.”
The man gave a short nod. “Come.”
They led him up the stairs, past a rune line that prickled over his skin. A scan, the kind that registered weapons, glamours, truth spells. He felt it crawl through his bones, tugging at every lie stitched into his being.
For a breathless second, Riven thought it would catch on something deeper—something more than lies.
But the scan passed.
“You’re clear,” Thane’s voice murmured, softer now. “Try not to get killed.”
Riven entered the balcony lounge like it was a den of lions—and made sure to look the part of someone who knew that, and was too desperate to care.
Lareth sat in the center, draped across a velvet divan like he owned the world. His skin shimmered faintly gold under the lights, and his eyes gleamed with the soft red sheen of someone long corrupted by power. He was beautiful, in that vain, cruel way that always came with ambition.
The Ember Gate’s music pulsed through the bones of the old building like blood through veins.
Riven stood in the back room, framed by too many eyes and not enough exits.
The air smelled like sweat, synthsmoke, and ozone.
Lareth lounged across from him, half-coiled in a cracked leather armchair, one leg hooked over the armrest like he owned gravity.
“So,” Lareth said, voice lazy and sharp, “you just…walked in. No contacts. No introduction. And you want work.”
Riven didn’t flinch. “I’m good at what I do.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
Riven let his silence stretch just long enough to be a choice, then shrugged. “Mostly I break into places people think are secure. Sometimes I move product. Sometimes people.”
The elf beside Lareth raised a brow. “People?”
“Not like that,” Riven said quickly. “I just know how to get someone out of a locked building without setting off alarms. Or into one, if that’s what you need.”
Lareth watched him like a cat watches a bird that’s landed too close. “You’re human.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s a curiosity.
Riven took a breath and made the first small gamble. “I used to run for the Virellien border crews. A long time ago.”
That got a reaction. Lareth straightened slightly, interest sharpening. “Did you now?”
“Not officially. I wasn’t marked. Just knew someone who needed things moved fast and quiet. I didn’t ask questions.”
“And what happened to this…connection of yours?”
Riven smiled faintly. “Burned me. Left me holding a bag I couldn’t drop. That’s why I’m here.”
Technically not a lie. Just sideways enough to piss Thane off if he ever heard it. Which, if this worked, he wouldn’t.
The other elf shifted again, less amused now. “You’re saying you ran contraband for House Virellien and they double-crossed you?”
“I’m saying,” Riven said carefully, “I don’t owe them anything anymore. And I’d rather work for people who pay straight.”
Lareth’s grin widened. “You’ve got stones, I’ll give you that. Most people don’t walk into a place like this and name-drop a Great House. Especially not that one.”
“I figured if I didn’t mention it, you’d find out anyway. Better to be honest.”
Another half-lie, or maybe a whole one. The edges were starting to blur.
Lareth leaned forward, elbows on knees, expression still amused but less distant now. “So you want in. What’s in it for us?”
“You need someone who doesn’t look like a soldier, doesn’t smell like a crew kid. Someone who can pass between worlds. Talk to the Vires if you need it, deal with House types without flinching. I’ve done all that.”
“You’re not worried about running into your old employers?”
Riven held Lareth’s gaze steadily. “Like I said. I don’t owe them anything.”
Another little crack in the story. He wasn’t sure if it was the look in Lareth’s eyes or the weight of the room pressing in, but he kept going, leaning just a bit further out over the edge.
“I’m not just here because I need work. I want to make sure I never have to crawl back. That means earning trust with people who have the kind of reach I need.”
Lareth tilted his head. “Trust takes time.”
“I’m not asking for your secrets,” Riven said. “Just a job. Something small. Let me prove I’m useful.”
“You’re a little too eager for a man with options.”
Riven met the accusation head-on. “I don’t have options. That’s why I’m good.”
Lareth studied him for a long moment. “And if I told you to prove yourself right now?”
“Then I’d ask what needs doing.”
A smile curved slow and sharp across Lareth’s face. “Maybe you’ll get the chance.”
Riven took the vial and made a show of examining it. “When this hits the streets, you’re going to be drowning in cash. I want in.”
Lareth’s mouth quirked up. “Don’t want a taste, then?” Riven shook his head. “Good. I don’t fuck with people who sample the merchandise. Bad for supply.”
A test, and Riven had passed—for now.
“Tell you what. I like you. Give me your number. I’m going to have a shipment to move in a week or so. I’ll hit you up when it’s ready, give you your first job. On a trial basis, of course.”
Riven slid his phone over to Lareth, watching as he added himself to Riven’s contacts. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, rising.
Lareth waved him off with a faint smirk. “I get a good vibe from you. Don’t get dead.”
Riven descended the stairs, his skin still crawling from the proximity to the vial of Soulglass. He didn’t exhale until he hit the street, the cool night air crashing against him like surf.
“You acquired the information we were looking for,” Thane said, though there was little approval in his voice. “That’s a start. We need more information. We need to know where it’s coming from and what they have planned for it.”
Riven turned down the alley where he knew Thane would be waiting with the bike. His heart was still thundering, half from the brush with danger and half from the damn voice in his ear. “Good thing I make great first impressions.”