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“Much better,” he purred. “Playing nice is exhausting.”

I watched as he stretched like a cat—fluid and smug. He looked like a swimmer: sleek on the surface, power underneath.

No, I couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not again. Not another pretty guy.

“Where’s Ms. Wallace?” I demanded.

“Oh, she’s probably still in her office.” He smiled, all cheekbones and trouble—gorgeous and sharp enough to cut if you weren’t careful. “Lovely woman, but far too… pedestrian to give tours to royal heirs. After all, we must maintain certain standards.”

His gaze swept over me, lazy and practiced, dragging across my thrift-store outfit like it personally offended him.

And yeah, okay—my brain clocked the insult. But my body? Still stuck on smile like sin, voice like velvet.

The dead things whispered urgent warnings. Not that I needed the reminder—charming rich guys were the most hazardous clients.

The ones who thought power could buy anything.

Or anyone.

“Who are you?”

“Elio Lightford.” He gave an elaborate bow that managed to be both graceful and mocking. “The sexiest Council heir,”—he gave a wink—”and your new guide to all things Wickem.”

Another heir. Seriously, how many of them were there? Parker had mentioned four Council seats—three now that my father was gone—but there was no way all of them were like this: beautiful, deadly, and radiating enough arrogance to flatten a city block.

The hall twisted around us, walls flowing like water as my orientation papers transformed into butterflies that scattered on the wind. I tried to grab them but they dissolved at my touch, leaving only the phantom sensation of wings against my skin.

With a swipe of Elio’s hand, my suitcase developed a mind of its own, tearing itself from my grasp and rolling away. I swallowed.

“Now then. Let’s begin the real tour, shall we?” His voice wrapped around me like silk; sweet and hypnotic. His pale blue eyes caught mine and my mind went foggy.

I was a sucker for pretty boys, and he was the most gorgeous I’d ever seen. I swayed closer. Everything else seemed to fade away except his gaze. His smile was dazzling, perfect—how had I ever thought it looked cruel?

“Come here, darling,” he purred, holding out one elegant hand.

Suddenly, all I wanted was to please him, to do whatever he asked. I smiled, taking a step forward, drawn by an overwhelming need to be closer to him. The voices of the dead things seemed distant, muffled by the honey-sweet fog in my mind. They seemed disturbed, but how could they be in the face of such perfection?

“That’s it. You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

I nodded dreamily. Of course I did. Nothing else mattered except his approval, his beautiful smile, his…

The dead things surged without warning, their frantic energy ripping through the enchantment—cold and jarring, like ice water in my veins. I stumbled back, gasping as my mind cleared. Horror and fury rushed in to replace the artificial devotion.

“How dare you—” I started, but his musical laugh cut me off.

“Oh, very good!” He exclaimed. “Most people don’t break free at all. But I’m up to the challenge.” Then he winked, and the floor vanished in front of my feet.

I stumbled back with a cry, heart hammering as I caught a glimpse of the twenty-foot drop into darkness. Cold air rose from the depths—but was it real? He’d already shown me he could twist what I saw, what I felt.

But that knowledge didn’t make my terror any less.

His musical laugh echoed around me. “Quick reflexes,” he said, somehow from right beside me. “But let’s see how you handle real challenges.”

“Like enchanting me wasn’t enough?” I spat, backing away.

“Oh, darling,” he said, running his hand down the side of my cheek and making me tremble. “That was just a greeting.”

He slid away, and three halls appeared where there had been one. In each, Elio beckoned with that same sharp smile. “Choose wisely. Though I doubt you will,” he said, with a casual shrug.