Page 66

Story: Rhapsodic

This is a side of him I don’t know. And I think it might be the best side of him.

His crown isn’t the only item he wears. Three bronze bands circle his bicep.

He sees where I’m looking. “War cuffs,” he explains. “For valor.”

A warrior king. And my lady parts were having trouble enough around him as it was. I’m now officially a lost cause.

Des leads me through the palace, nodding to people we pass as he goes. Their eyes linger on me, and most dip their heads.

I crane my neck to follow the fae woman who stopped and actually curtsied to me. Not just the king, but also me.

What in the world? Did he tell everyone that I’m here to fix their problems? Because I seriously doubt I’m going to get anything out of these humans that Des couldn’t.

“Where are we going?” I ask distractedly.

“To the servants’ quarters. You’ll be interviewing an off-duty nursemaid today.”

No sense wasting time, I guess. The thought of glamouring these humans makes my palms sweat.

“Have all the kingdoms stopped taking changelings?” I ask.

Des shakes his head. “Just the Kingdom of Night. The Kingdom of Day has considered it, but neither the Kingdoms of Fauna or Flora will.”

Which means that humans are still being plucked from earth.

“And yours are free? There aren’t any slaves here?” I ask.

“None, cherub.”

I nod to myself, wiping my sweaty palms off on my dress.

The servants’ quarters are located in an auxiliary building on the side of the palace. We exit the back of the castle and pass through a moonlit garden before we enter the building.

Inside, the space is only slightly less adorned than in the palace itself and the corridors a bit narrower. We stop at a dark wood door.

“Did you memorize the questions?” Des asks.

I give him a look. “I agreed to do this. I’m good for my word.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he says, searching my face.

It is a yes.

Des raps his knuckles on the door. A moment later it swings open of its own accord. Inside, a single human woman sits at a desk, her quill poised over a letter.

By looks of the living quarters—and the several pairs of boots in various sizes resting just inside the doorway—she must share the space with roommates. But at the moment, she’s alone.

As soon as she notices Des, she rises to her feet, bowing deeply. “My King, it’s an honor,” she murmurs.

The Bargainer turns to me, giving me a heavy look. “Your repayment begins now,” he says.

Immediately the magic takes hold, prickling my skin, urging the siren out.

“I hate it when you do that,” I mutter.

“Don’t make deals with bad men, cherub,” he says, leaning against the wall, folding his arms.

The woman’s eyes move to me. The first thing I notice about her are the bruises. They dot her neck and her chest, continuing on beneath the curved neckline of her dress. There are rings of them, some obviously newer than others.