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Later, I learned that’s just how he is. He looks at someone and decides what to make of them right away. Like me, Bear is the son of a king. Unlike me, he’s been raised to rule his whole life, with four brothers competing for the throne alongside him. I came to understand that snap judgments was a skill he cultivated out of necessity.

Plus, he was right.

When Bear ties me up, it’s what I imagine flying would be like. Exhilarating, astounding, with an edge of fear. With my missing wing I’ve never been able to fly like the rest of my kin, and soaring above the stage for a few brief moments brings me joy. My thoughts pour out and leave me perfectly empty. It’s worth paying Syril’s price — the costumes, the lights, the fanfare that lets him advertise the show and draw monsters into The Sanctum.

Even if I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be held afterward. Not by Bear, but maybe someone sweeter and gentler.

Being a fairy makes that impossible, though.

The noise of the club filters down the hall, reminding me the show isn’t just about me. A terrible thought flits through my head —will the human be here?

I shiver and try to push it away.

When I step into the wings Bear is already there, and he gives me a curt nod. “Ready?”

“Ready.” I strip the dressing gown off and leave it hanging on a hook. My costume glitters in the low light, and it’ll dazzle on the stage.

Stepping out from the wings is always the hardest part. After a lifetime hiding in the shadows, walking into the spotlight goes against every instinct. The emcee, a charismatic naga named Thrain, gives me the signal to walk on stage.

“Please welcome our lovely — and lucky — rope submissive, Prince Lysander.”

He flicks a hand at me with a flourish, and I take a deep breath. Now is the time to walk confidently. I stride across the stage, focused on the mat, pretending I can’t hear the excited chatter of the crowd. The lights obscure the rest of the club, turning the audience into blessedly indistinct figures. When I reach the mat I turn to the crowd and bow. A hush falls over the room. For the audience, this is all part of the show — the mysterious fairy prince in a scandalously sparkling costume, getting ready to be tied up by a dragon twice his size. I understand it distantly, logically, but for me the thrill isn’t in this part. I grip my hands together behind my back tightly and straighten as Thrain goes on.

“Now put your hands together for Bear, our master of the rope and one of the five illustrious dragonlords!”

That’s my signal to kneel. I get on the mat as the crowd cheers and whistles. Tough leather boots stomp across the stage. I don’t raise my eyes, playing the part of a submissive to Bear’s Dominant. It’s easy to keep my gaze down — I don’twantto look up and see dozens of shadowy figures below the stage. I would keep my eyes shut for the whole show if not for the fact that Bear insists I stay alert, for safety reasons.

My body fizzes with anticipation as Bear shows the crowd the rope he’ll be using today. I hold my wings still with sheer force of will, though they long to flutter and twitch.

Bear grips my shoulder tightly with a gloved hand and leans in.

“Focus,” he murmurs. “Your energy is all over the place.”

I suck in a breath. I can’t deny my thoughts are on the crowd. Even if the human isn’t here today, he will be eventually. Isn’t that what the amulet means?

Somehow, the thought makes me feel more vulnerable than getting tied up ever did.

Bear huffs. “Simple tie today. On your feet, and I’ll count you down.”

I clamber to standing, the mat clammy on the soles of my feet. Bear takes my shoulder and turns me around to face the back of the stage instead of the crowd. In spite of everything, the first knot calms me.

“Three,” Bear says.

“Two,” when the second one is in place. I deepen my breathing, pulling my focus back to the moment. The rough feel of leather gloves on my skin. The strident caress of the rope. The firm voice in my ear.

“One.”

Slowly, the spotlight and the crowd fade, and only the rope remains.

9

EZRA

Orion leans over. “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

Orion’s appearance still gives me a bit of a shock, but I’m trying hard to get over myself. He’s all shadows and flame and veryveryfar from human. Plato says he’s called a shade. I can see why they put me on shift with Plato the day Syril gave me the amulet, because in comparison, a pair of horns is pretty tame.

“C’mon.” I jab Orion in the midsection with my elbow. He’s surprisingly corporeal for someone made entirely out of shadows.