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Lucian shook his head, getting to his feet. “I need a shower. We have an appointment in an hour.”

27

LUCIAN

This was going to endbadly. At least I could say I tried explaining it to Kleos. Telling her clearly that her careless words could lead to a life-long bond had no effect whatsoever, so I just had to give up, and enjoy the road to hell.

There was a possibility that agreeing to something as simple as saving her life in exchange for cupcakes could lead to what my family considered a binding agreement—one I would always honor, and consider her bound to do the same. But there was an equally probable chance that it might trigger a soul bond, forever rewriting her fate and mine. It was fifty-fifty.

I shouldn’t have to spell that out to a Pendros. She should have taken Highvale history lessons since she was in diapers, and known precisely who the Regis were, how we functioned, why we were dangerous. Clearly, Zenya hadn’t bothered to warn her daughter.

There were only five families everyone truly ought to be cautioned against in this entire city. The fact new bloods didn’t know was dangerous for all involved.

Beware the Nachtigall’s stare, lest you wish to spend your days dancing with your nightmares.

Bow to the Saltzin kin, or feel a thousand bolts of lightning upon your skin.

Befriend the house of Briar, never afraid to touch the fire.

Bold is the one who dares to trick a Hyperion in its lair.

Behold the Regis troth, more binding than any oath.

These were nursery rhymes Kleos should have known. But she didn’t. I wanted to strangle her mother for leaving her so unprepared for our world. No doubt, she believed her precious daughter would never step foot in the underside, where all the founding families lived. Upon knowing her, Zenya should have known better. Kleos was too much for the vale. I couldn’t imagine a world where she wouldn’t have ended up right here.

“You’re kidding.”

We’d left the house in relative silence—just a few “ready,” and “after you,” and “this way.”

I could tell she was still mulling over my words, and I needed her to seriously think on them until she came to the correct conclusion. That I couldrewrite her fateif insisted on treating me like a normal person. But the two dark eight-legged horses pulling the open carriage were too distracting. Used to the sight, I had to remind myself it was unusual up in the vale. They kept four ceremonial horses in the temple of Poseidon, but they were rarely put to work outside of his annual festival.

“The sanctuary is on Wolves Avenue—it’s a trek on foot, and we’d be late if we took the tram. You don’t mind carriages, do you?”

“Are you kidding? This isamazing!”

I smiled, stepping towards the driver. “This is Ronan’s carriage, and Dan Hibbins, his driver,” I introduced the rail-thin young man. “Dan, my friend Kleos.”

“A pleasure, ma’am.” He tilted his top hat.

She beamed at him. “You have an amazing job.”

The young man puffed his chest. “I care for the horses. They love the work, though their favorite thing is racing very fast. We take them out every week.”

“That must be spectacular.”

I felt like they could have spent an hour chatting about the two Sleipnirsons, so I offered Kleos my hand, to guide her up onto the carriage.

I was no less aware of her touch than any of the times when our skin had come into contact, but after the unique brand of nonsense we’d been up to earlier, that awareness was more specific, shooting straight to my groin.

It lasted but ten seconds, then she was seated, facing the horses, while I gave them my back, looking at her instead. The effect on the state of my crotch was far more durable. Luckily, I was wearing a thick coat that I was careful to drape over my lap as I made myself think about Ronan running around the manor naked on a full moon. It still took almost the entire trip for my erection to ease.

This was becoming a problem.

I wished my attraction was only superficial. I wished she were positively boring, of average intellect, and fetid, to boot. Or even just normal, so that I would be safe in the knowledge that I could fuck her and walk away without giving it another thought.

Instead, she was Kleos.

The problem with a fascination with the darling of the vale, currently accepting suitors preapproved by her family, was that she would end up with some guy on that list. One of the thirteen ruling families, or perhaps one of the twenty-seven nobles, so long as they lived up in the vale. The Pendros clan had distanced themselves from the underside and risen to power on top, and they intended to keep their dominion over the plebe. They were welcome to it—we had no interest in ruling the vale. But I couldn’t have a thing for her when she was one of them. A childof those who rewrote history to attempt to claim our city, and who, when that failed, moved to subjugate all those they could rise above.