Page 42

Around us, the room seems to freeze in place. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was in a hall of statues.

The Bargainer folds his arms and leans against the nearest frozen fairy, using him like he would a wall. Des has a good deal of mirth in his eyes, and it’s clear he’s eager to let me steal the show.

I begin to walk down the aisle, towards Typhus’s throne, my hips swaying.

I head up to the dais, Typhus’s gaze pinned in place. “You can move your eyes,” I allow.

Immediately they snap to me. It’s hard to read his emotions, since the rest of him is still frozen in place, but I’d definitely say that I’m getting some strong anger vibes coming from him.

“I really shouldn’t let you do this,” Des says behind me. He sounds gleeful.

I reach Typhus’s throne, and God, his chair is even uglier up close. His crudely made crown rests right there, within reach, and I just can’t help myself. I reach out and lift the thing off of his head, then settle it onto mine. “Look at that,” I breathe. “The slave you wanted to shackle is now your queen.”

Now Icansee Typhus’s anger bubbling in his eyes. Still, he’s powerless.

On a whim, I command him, “Stand, Typhus.”

Robotically, he rises from his chair.

“Now, oh great king, bow before me.” Typhus dips low, his nose nearly touching his knees as he’s forced to follow my command.

As a PI, I’ve seen my fair share of pissed off looks when someone is caught in the web of my glamour. King Henbane is no exception. He stares at me like he’s cursing my very existence with his eyes.

I lap it up like a cat does cream. “Sit.”

He sits.

He won’t recover from this. Not now that his subjects have seen how easily I took his crown and bent his will.

I tilt my head at the sight of him, sullen and powerless. There is just something about a felled man that gets to me in the most twisted way.

Giving in to my baser nature, I move forward, climbing onto the king’s lap, straddling his thighs.

I feel just the thinnest thread of jealousy through my connection. That, too, I lap up.

I am something to envy.

Lifting a hand, I reach for one of his necklaces, enjoying the sick way the bones and teeth shiver as they brush each other.

My gaze flicks to him, and Typhus’s green eyes seem to darken. There’s still plenty of anger in them, but now there’s lust there too.

I smile. Someone probably wants to hate-bang me.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

I readjust myself on his lap, shaking my hair out.

Why did I think glamouring him was important … ?

Oh, right.

“You will answer all my questions fully and honestly,” I command. “Now, how long ago was the tomb opened?” I ask.

His upper lip twitches in distaste. “A few weeks ago.”

Recent. Part of me had assumed the tomb was opened years ago.

I glance over my shoulder at Des, a self-satisfied smirk on my face. He stares back at me, and his expression is amused, but his eyes are stormy.