Page 27

Chapter 25

Morgana

I ’m woken by a knock at the bedroom door. Leon is up in an instant, and I mourn the sudden loss of his body around me even as I struggle to orient myself.

“Captain, you have a visitor.”

It’s Alastor, sounding sheepish. Leon eyes the door, then casts his gaze toward me instead. I shiver as he takes me in, the sheet pooled around my waist, my loose hair barely covering my chest.

“This better be good,” he growls.

“It’s Wadestaff. He’s pretty insistent, captain.” Alastor sounds pained, like he can exactly picture the annoyed expression now forming on Leon’s face.

“We should see what he wants,” I say, shuffling to the edge of the bed to find my clothes.

Leon grunts in displeasure but retrieves his own pants, shirt, and sword belt. He watches me dress, and I don’t feel self-conscious. Instead, I’m amused when he shakes his head as I pull my skirts down.

“It should be a crime to cover such a perfect ass, you know,” he says.

I hush him, sweeping my hair up into the semblance of something neat before heading to the door. Lifting my head high, I breathe in and stride out into the lounge, passing Alastor with a nod.

“Evening, Alastor,” I say.

“Er…evening, Your Highness,” he says.

Phaia and Hyllus are the only ones still up. They exchange looks as Leon follows me out into the lounge, but they otherwise stay silent. I thank the gods Stratton’s not awake—he’d definitely make some wisecrack.

“What’s going on?” Leon demands.

“He’s waiting outside. I tried telling him you were busy.” He doesn’t bother hiding the look he shoots in my direction. “But he was insistent. He says he has something to discuss.”

“Fine. Let’s discuss what he’s doing disturbing me in the middle of the night,” Leon says, flexing his fingers toward his blade.

“Maybe hear him out before you make up your mind to kill him,” Alastor says. “It would be a pain to have to find new accommodations this late.”

Leon sighs, forced to acknowledge the good sense in Alastor’s words.

“Alright. Bring him in.”

* * *

“I want to make a deal,” Corrin says when he and a dozen of his burly security guards have squeezed into the room. He’s brought more with him this time, but Alastor’s roused the rest of the fae, and I still like our chances if things get tense again.

“We already made a deal,” Leon says. “You do what we tell you, and in return I don’t kill you.”

“A generous bargain to be sure,” Corrin says lightly. “But I have an idea that could be more effective.”

“Go on then, let’s hear it,” Leon says, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I know you and your fae friends need safe passage back to Filusia. Spending so much time on horseback and in glamours must be getting tiring for you.”

“I’m listening,” Leons says.

“For a price, I can organize a boat to take you east. It’s faster, easier on the ass, and keeps you clear of any undesirable authorities.” He shrugs. “Well, if you have convincing papers. Which my friends always do.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Damia says with a raised eyebrow, causing Corrin to flash a smile in her direction.

“And what is this price?” Leon asks.

Corrin’s eyes go to Alastor. “Your friend here has a valuable gift I’d like to make use of. There’s a traitor in my ranks, feeding delicate information to a competitor of mine. I have a suspect in mind; I just need to confirm that he’s been lying to me.”

“I see.” Leon turns to Alastor. “Your power, your call,” he says simply.

Alastor thinks it over. “So you want the captain to lend me out like one of your working girls, just so you can sniff out a crook? I hate to break it to you,” Alastor says, gesturing to the men in the room. “But have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re all crooks here.”

“So you understand why finding the truly dishonest man among us would require special talents,” Corrin says, unfazed. “Besides, this isn’t just a matter of hurting my bottom line. The information he’s passed on has gotten some of my employees hurt, and I won’t tolerate that.”

“What a good boss you are,” Leon says.

“Yes, actually,” Corrin says with outstretched hands. “The easiest way to make it big in Hallowbane is by being the best person to work for within the city limits. My people know if they get screwed, they’ll be paid for their trouble, or I’ll make sure someone pays.”

“A low bar, I’d imagine,” Alastor says. “But I’ll do it. Anything that gets us back home faster.”

“Excellent.” Corrin smiles and gestures to one of his security guards, who ducks out of the room. “He’s just downstairs in the back; I’ll have them bring him up.”

“You already have him here?” Alastor says, surprised.

“Of course. I don’t want to waste your time.”

Minutes later, a man is dragged bound and gagged into the lounge. Corrin’s security throw him down onto one of the couches. His eyes widen with fear as he takes in the crime lord and the assembled company.

“Remove his gag,” Corrin says.

“M-Mr. Wadestaff,” he stammers as soon as his mouth is free. “Whatever you’ve been told. It’s not true. I swear it. I’m being set up.”

Corrin’s sly smiles are gone, the showman replaced by…I’m not sure what. The executioner, maybe. “If only I could trust that, Jack. But Hester had her cart stolen last week, and she has the broken wrist to show for it. And then there was that unpleasant incident with the Hucksley brothers before that. You know Stanley lost his eye? People weren’t supposed to know about their little midnight runs, but someone knew exactly when to find them, and where.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Jack babbles. “It’s not me. I think it’s Milo, sir. He’s been acting very strange lately.”

But Corrin just tuts and looks to Alastor. “Ask him if he’s been leaking information, to who, and for what price.”

Alastor repeats the question to Jack, the fizz of his sensic magic filling the air. Jack stops wriggling in his bindings, his eyes glazing over.

“I passed on details about operations to Aldous Chalke. He said he’d pay me twice what Mr. Wadestaff does.”

Corrin nods grimly, as if this was what he expected.

“Fucking Chalke,” he mutters. “Ask him if he’d have continued, even if people kept getting hurt,” he prompts Alastor.

But the blond fae hesitates. “The magic doesn’t really do well with hypothetical questions. People can lie even to themselves when it comes to things they haven’t done yet.”

“Just ask him,” Corrin pushes, a sharp edge to his voice.

Alastor sighs and asks the question.

“Probably,” says Jack simply. “I have to look after my own first.”

“And I have to look after my own, Jack,” Corrin says with a sigh. He waves a hand at Alastor. “Alright, thank you. That’s all.”

Alastor’s magic fades, and Jack blinks. He starts fidgeting again, turning to Corrin.

“It’s Milo, sir, I’m sure of it. He can’t be trusted.”

A heavy silence fills the room. It’s clear Jack has no idea what he’s just told us.

“You shouldn’t have lied about it, Jack. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but you definitely shouldn’t have lied about it,” Corrin says. “Gag him, please.”

Jack starts to protest, but the security guards wrestle the rag back into his mouth.

“I can do the honors sir,” one of the guards murmurs to Corrin.

“Thank you,” Corrin says, his face somber as he pulls a shiny silver knife from within his jacket. “But I always clean up my own mess.”

As Corrin steps toward Jack, shadows stream across the room, shrouding the two in darkness. There’s a wet noise and a few moments of rasping breath. Then the shadows disperse. Corrin looks like he hasn’t moved an inch, but Jack slumps limply on the couch, the silver knife driven into his chest up to the hilt.

“An ugly business,” Corrin says, straightening his cuffs. “But I thank you for your help in dealing with it.” The security men promptly scoop Jack’s body up and start to carry him out.

“Now,” Corrin says brightly. “I can arrange your passage for tomorrow if that suits?”

Leon murmurs some kind of affirmative, but Jack’s head lolls over one of the guard’s shoulders as they leave, and I find myself glued to the sight of his empty, unseeing eyes.

* * *

LEON

A weak morning sunlight filters through the windows of the gambling den, hitting the polished wood of the bar and card tables. In a few hours, the space will no doubt be bustling with customers, frittering away their money and their morals. But for now, it’s just me and Corrin Wadestaff.

“I can get the message there in time, Your Highness, but I can’t guarantee results,” Corrin says. The crime lord is dressed in a jade suit today, silver cufflinks glinting. I lean back from the table, allowing him to feel the weight of my gaze.

“Just make sure you try your best, Wadestaff, or I might be forced to think of more creative ways to incentivize you.”

Corrin’s eyes harden even as he pulls his lips into a tight smile. “How fun for me.”

I’ve long since learned how to take the measure of a man, and by this point, I’m confident Wadestaff can be an effective tool. At the same time, though, he strikes me as a calculating man—one who never stops looking for a way to turn every situation to his advantage. I won’t leave him to his devices without a threat or two to keep him in check.

There are footsteps on the stairs, and I look up to see the unit descending. Ana’s among them. I thought the tension between us would vanish after we gave in to our desires, but it’s only twisted into something new. Something stronger. The moment I meet her eyes, I’m taken back to last night. I can taste her again, smell the sweet scent of her hair and feel her skin against mine.

From the delicious flush on her cheeks, her mind is back there too and I grin.

Corrin stands, making a small bow to Ana. Their little chat the other day was too cozy for my liking. I watch him closely, ready to run him through if he so much as winks at her, but luckily for him, Corrin turns back to me.

“I’ll have one of my people show you to your transport,” he says. “I wish you the best on the rest of your journey.”

His eyes flick once more to Ana, and the beast inside me rears its head and snarls. I didn’t want to name it for what it was before, but the wildness of this jealousy is impossible to ignore. Still, I wrestle the creature under control, reminding myself that Corrin’s probably glad to see the back of us.

“Good morning,” I murmur to Ana as we collect our horses from the stables.

“You were gone when I woke up,” she says quietly, her tone accusing. After the incident with Corrin’s man, we’d fallen back asleep in each other’s arms. I chuckle, pleased by the idea that she missed me upon waking.

“Don’t pout, princess,” I say as I put my hands to her waist to help her mount the pony. But first, I pull her in closer, letting her feel the heat of my body against hers, and drop my lips to her ear. “I’ll make it up to you.”

That blush appears again, decorating her delicate neck. I think I might start seeing how many ways I can provoke it, but for now, I just enjoy the sight. When I turn, Alastor’s eyes are on me, an eyebrow raised in quiet judgment.

I ignore him. The choice not to overthink things has stood me in good stead so far. Let the gods punish me if they want for taking pleasure and giving it in return, but I think our mortal dramas amuse them more than anything.

The docks, like much of Hallowbane, stink like the Gloamlands, so I’m glad when Corrin’s men are quick to locate our transport. It’s tucked up in a grimy inlet behind a small island of junked ship parts—a good spot for people who want to come and go without being seen. The riverboat looks ready to depart. With its long and deep design, there’s plenty of hold space for storing things away from wandering eyes.

A man steps off the deck onto the gangplank. His wiry hair tumbles down his shoulders and onto the lapels of a battered frock coat, crisscrossed with leather straps holding various instruments of navigation along with a knife in a thick leather sheath. He sees me looking at it.

“It’s for the rigging,” he says, tapping it with a grin and a wink. He holds his hand out to me, and I notice it’s missing a few fingers.

“Captain Ravesley,” he says.

I shake it, but don’t offer my own name. “Thank you for your help,” I say instead.

Ravesley nods. “A friend of Mr. Wadestaff’s is a friend of ours.”

“We have a few cabins down below,” he continues. “My people are happy to bunk in the hold and up top to make room.” He eyes our group, weighing us. We’re wearing our glamours, but Corrin might have dropped hints about us. “Stay out of their way, and they’ll stay out of yours,” he concludes.

“Sounds reasonable,” Alastor chips in. “We don’t want—Hey, you!”

I follow his gaze to the deck, where there stands a familiar man with a gold hoop glinting in his ear. At Alastor’s shout, the man’s eyes widen, and he backs away. But he can’t retreat far, as Alastor and I leap up the gangplank, closing in on either side of him.

“Looks like you’ve made yourself some friends since you left us in those tunnels,” I hiss at him.

The smuggler who abandoned us under Mount Kalas looks nervously around at his crewmates before clearing his throat.

“Ah, look now, you wouldn’t blame a man for doing what he had to do to get the cleavers off his back, would you?” He gives us a crooked smile and edges back another step.

“You know these men, Moss?” Ravesley calls warily.

“Oh, we’ve met before,” I say. “When he threw us to the dogs to save his own skin.” My hand drifts to my blade, enjoying seeing a bead of sweat form on Moss’s forehead.

“Well, we all make mistakes, gentlemen,” Ravesley slowly scales the gangplank. The rest of my unit close in behind him while the crewmen on deck go tense, hands drifting to what I imagine is all manner of concealed weapons. “I’m sure Moss regrets having to leave you in the lurch, don’t you, Moss?”

The smuggler’s eyes flick between us and his captain.

“I do. It was a bastard thing to do. I’m sorry, gents, and also to you, miss.”

He nods toward Ana, who’s watching with a neutral expression—taking everything in, giving nothing away. It’s a valuable skill.

“I ended up with a pretty nasty burn on my foot because of you,” she says mildly. “Those cleavers don’t pull their punches.”

“You messed up, Moss,” Ravesley says. “Going and getting a nice girl banged up like that.”

I throw Alastor a look. This is a lot of theatrics for our benefit without an ounce of real remorse. I’m sure the captain’s hoping we’ll look past this misdemeanor and continue with our planned trip, allowing him to keep all the coin he’s been paid to take us.

“Oh, miss, I’m terribly sorry, truly I am,” Moss says. I don’t think he realized we were fae in the tunnels—too panicked to understand what Alastor’s magic did to him—so for now at least he thinks we’re as human as she is.

“Well,” Ana says, raising an eyebrow at me. “What are you going to do with him?”

I draw my sword, and a dozen hands draw weapons that were hidden a moment ago. The blood rapidly drains from Moss’s face as he realizes the danger he’s in.

“A foot for a foot?” I ask Ana thoughtfully. Poised to defend their crewmate, the smugglers throw questioning looks at their captain. Moss whimpers beside me.

Ana huffs and rolls her eyes.

“You’re right. Too much.” I sheathe my sword and clap a relieved Moss heavily on the shoulder. “Apology accepted. But let’s be clear, if you even think about betraying us again…”

“Don’t worry about that, sir,” says Ravesley, who kept his cool through the moment of tension. “My crew will follow my orders, and we’ll be sure to get you to your destination safe and sound.”

“And what are a bunch of smugglers like you going to do if the Temple comes sniffing round again?” Alastor asks. “Because you didn’t seem to have a great handle on the situation under the mountains.”

Ravesley’s face grows harder at the insult. “Things are different on the rivers. I know these waterways like the back of my hand, and our papers are the best you’ll see this side of Elmere. No one—Temple or otherwise—will be boarding my boat without my say-so.”

I know he’s telling the truth even without Alastor’s magic.

“Very well, Captain Ravesley, let’s not waste any more of your time,” I say. My unit put their weapons away, and the smugglers follow suit.

One of them—a stout woman with several gold teeth—shows us down to the cabins. As we descend, the crew release the moorings, and a waft of aesteri magic fills out the sails as the boat creaks into motion.

I watch Ana as we move beneath the main deck, her hips swaying as she navigates around a beam, a hand coming out to steady herself. All I have to do is look in her direction, and I find my blood heating. Now we’ll be traveling in even closer quarters, and I wonder if I’ll be able to escape her—the hunger she conjures in me—long enough to think.

I took Ana as my hostage, but now it’s she who’s holding me captive, in mind and body.

I’ll have to find ways to clear my head in the next week, because between now and the border, I have to make some decisions. They’re hard choices, but then I’m used to those—used to riding into battle without a look back. So why am I so full of doubts now? They follow me around, as impossible to ignore as that pair of fierce hazel eyes.