Page 37

A grin, shockingly handsome, split over his full lips. Hell, I wasan idiot, the way I allowed his sneer to pool heat in my gut. He was an asshole. A beautiful one, but an asshole all the same.

He stepped closer. I hardly took note of how close until my back struck the wall. Breath caught in my chest when he placed his palms on either side of my head; he drew his lips to my ear. “Would you like me to apologize? I think we got off on a little misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” I shoved him back. It only moved him mere steps. “You mutilated my hand,robbedme, and you’re a damn prince.”

“Well, technically Destin is the prince. I’m the baggage brought in when the king wed my mother. And you robbed me, if you recall. I say we’re square.”

This was all a joke to him. “I want my bag back, dickhead.”

He hummed, and I thought my knees might’ve buckled a bit. “Strange words. Compliment?’

“Yeah. The highest kind for guys like you.”

In the next breath the suave demeanor shifted. He took hold of my chin, drawing my face close. “I care little if you are from the first house or from a burrow in the glen, you’ll keep these lips closed about what happened in Swindler’s Alley. Not a word to brother dearest, or I will bind that tongue once more.”

“You did do something to me.” Somehow he’d muted my damn words to speak against him.

“A mere tongue tie,” he said. “I don’t like doing them, they leave behind a bad taste. Be a good girl, and don’t press my hand.”

He grunted when I landed my elbow into his ribs. “Return my bag, and I might think about it. Keep it, then I hope your brother makes you bleed when he finds out exactly who you are and what you do.”

He dragged one knuckle down my cheek.

“I do enjoy the malice in your words.” He stole my breath when he leaned close again, giving me pause to breathe him in—woodsmoke and a touch of the clean air in a storm. His lips brushed my ear this time, too close, too dangerous as he whispered, “For I love a woman who bites.”

I stumbled once he pulled away, heart racing.

“Bring my knife and I will return this.” One hand raised, his palm parallel to the floor. When he rolled his hand, pointing his palm toward the ceiling, all at once my bag was draped from its strap on the end of his fingers.

“How . . .” Disbelief choked any sound from my throat.

Another flick of his wrist and the bag faded into nothing. “The knife.”

I clenched my fists. “I tucked it in the wardrobe in the dressing room.”

Kage’s mouth quirked in the corner. “Summon it.”

“What? I . . . I can’t summon things.”

Eyes sharp as steel took me in, studied each freckle, each scar. He drew in a long breath through his nose, then clicked his tongue, stepping back. “How disappointing.”

His words were a lash, but he tossed my bag at my feet. In a frenzy, I gathered it up, hugging it to my chest.

“If the knife is not there, I’ll be back, Wildling.” Kage drifted to a shadowed corner, but paused to glance over his shoulder. “You ought to know, I slaughtered your chirping glass box.”

Chirping glass box? My damn phone! “You bast—” The word choked off. When I looked again he was gone.

I rushed to the wall, padding over the cold stone until I breathed a sigh of relief. Hidden in the shadows was a latch. A door. Secret passages in the walls were horrid enough, but the thought that a man like Prince Kage could slip through walls was too much.

All the same, I dragged an ornate chair placed below a mirror on the wall against the hidden door, praying it might never open again.

Ravenwood chambers were finely furnished with a velvet chaise, large bed with a canopy, and numerous doors to other rooms for what I hoped was washing and dressing. The air was rich in hickory wood from a fireplace, but the soothing smells and sights did nothing to slow the rush of blood in my skull.

When the iron latch was locked, I tossed my bag to one side, and slid down the wall until I hit the floor. Knees hugged against my chest, I buried my face in the tops, trying to calm my pulse.

I was a mage.

It settled sharp and distinct in my mind, like something I’d always known, merely forgotten. But if I was a mage, then why did I grow up in Las Vegas? Where was this world all my life? How was I supposed to help Destin find this skull crown to save his whole damn kingdom?