Page 1 of Night Fae

CHAPTER 1

Zev was in deep shit. He knew that before he opened his eyes.

Magic pressed against his skin. A particular kind of magic that was at once familiar and oppressive.

Whatever Yuri had done, it had dragged him back to Veridia.

Worse.

This was Night Court territory.

Opening his eyes, Zev took a brief look at the street around him. Nothing but unremarkable buildings. Maybe he'd landed in one of the small towns on the outskirts of the territory?

But then a horse-drawn carriage thundered past him, and when he followed it with his gaze, he spotted obsidian spires in the distance.

The palace.

It wasn't distant enough.

Zev cursed under his breath.

He couldn't be caught here. They'd execute him for treason—or worse.

Without conscious thought, he drew on his magic to strengthen his glamour, turning his violet eyes to a common shade of brown as he stepped into the shadow of a doorway.

Just in time.

Two Court guards passed his hiding spot, wearing pristine black uniforms and the crest of the Night Church.

Zev held perfectly still, though his muscles screamed to move. To slit their throats. To punish them for their crimes.

This court had killed Rhys.

They'd killhimtoo, given the chance.

Zev needed to get out of here before he did something stupid.

The guards rounded the corner, voices fading.

Zev waited three more breaths before moving down the street in the opposite direction. He needed different clothes. Money. Transportation to get as far away from here as quickly as possible.

A market square opened up ahead, filled with the usual bustle of mid-day activity. Merchants called their wares, the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat wafting through the air.

It was a perfect hunting ground.

Still, Zev suppressed a sigh.

He hadn't lowered himself to the level of common thieves since he was an adolescent. Back then he'd thought it was a fun challenge to rid nobles of their goods.

Othernobles.

The thought rankled, and Zev shoved it aside.

He knew what he had to do. No point grumbling about it.

He kept to the edges, watching, picking his targets.

A well-dressed merchant turned away from his stall to argue with a customer. His coin purse hung temptingly from his belt. Zev drifted closer, timing his path to intersect just as the argument reached its peak.