Page 39 of Lana Pecherczyk

An ominous premonition shivered up Manfri’s spine as they flew around, surveying the hoard.

“Hurry,” he hissed. “Take something and then let’s get out of here.”

He wasn’t psychic, but he had a bad feeling. This was too easy. Cielo only needed to grab one tiny thing, and then their wager was satisfied. But Cielo flew closer to the glittering pile and closer to the tunnels as though they called his name like a siren.

“What do you suppose is in there?” Cielo asked, pointing to the darkness.

“I don’t care,” Manfri replied. “Grab your shiny, and then let’s go to town.”

Cielo landed on the treasure. Trinkets and baubles rolled from the impact. The clink and clank sounded incredibly loud, so loud that if the Collector slept, he’d surely wake.

As always, Cielo walked to his own tune. He strolled around the treasure, picking up and turning bits as he inspected them. All the while, Manfri felt his balls shrink back into his body. His heart tested the limits of its cage.

Then a low, growling sound trembled the jeweled mountain, shaking its very foundation.

“Hurry,” Manfri hissed. “Something’s coming to eat us.”

“It’s not going to eat you.”

They spun to face the foreign male voice, their daggers drawn and ready to stab. But it was only another male crow shifter, just like them. With bronze skin, dark shoulder-length hair, and dark eyes, he appeared too normal to be the Collector. And young. He had to be close to their age. Still not filling outhis adult fae body, but close. He wore scrappy black clothes two sizes too small and a wary look that was beyond his years.

It could be a glamour designed to fool them.

A monster born of ink and horror lurched from a tunnel, baring its fangs at them. It moved on all fours and had the body of a canine. Acidic, glowing ink dripped from its eyes and sizzled on the ground. The newcomer leaped into action, stabbing the creature’s eye as it passed him. It screeched and thrashed, but the crow shifter hung on. Manfri had never seen a Wellhound, only heard stories around the kettle campfires.

Cielo snapped out of his shock first. He launched at the hound, intending to strike and help the new crow shifter, but there was no need. Within moments, the hound was dead. Manabeeze popped from its corpse and drifted away. Only when the stranger slid from the furred corpse did they realize he’d held another dagger and had stabbed the beast in the heart. The acidic blood had narrowly missed his skin.

“I’m fucking speechless,” Manfri mumbled. This barely grown fae had just dispatched a Wellhound without breaking a sweat.

“Who are you?” Cielo pointed his dagger.

The newcomer’s gaze flicked to the weapon, unimpressed. He cocked his head and spread glossy black wings. “That’s my question.”

Shit shit shit. Manfri bounced on his toes. What should they do? Flight? Fly? Would this deadly stranger give chase? Gut them like he did the hound?

“I’m Cielo, and that’s Manfri.”

Manfri’s eyes widened at his friend.Just go ahead and reveal our identities to the monster killer, why don’t you?Crows never forget those who steal from them. Cielo knows that, so what the actual fuck?

The newcomer’s dark eyes narrowed as he stepped to the side, seemingly weighing the situation. The sizzle of Wellhound acid, still burning treasure, filled the air. Cielo sheathed his dagger and motioned for Manfri to do the same. Fuck. He’d better know what he’s doing.

Manfri tucked his dagger into his belt.

“What’s your name?” Cielo asked, his head tilting as he studied their opponent. “You’re not the Collector.”

“How would you know?”

A single dark brow lifted on Cielo’s forehead as he pointed to the stranger’s feet. Manfri followed his gaze and gasped at the rune-strengthened manacles.

He shrank into himself but then straightened his spine and announced, “I’m the Collector’s son.”

“Your name?” Cielo pushed.

“Nikan.”

“Are you a prisoner here, Nikan?” Manfri blurted.

Nikan seemed to consider answering, but then the rumble sounded again from inside a tunnel—more hounds?—and he said, “You should go. If she wakes, you’re both dead.”