Page 28 of The Crimson Throne (Spy and Guardian #1)

Samson

I’m still not used to seeing magic everywhere. But holy hell, this party’s a fantasy.

I’m gaping like a fool, and I can’t even chastise myself for it. The lights up above, the costumes and decorations all over, they’re enhanced just enough to go from luxurious to otherworldly.

And I know I’m one of the few who can actually see it.

That thought redirects my focus, and I scan the crowd, unease tightening my back.

Who else here is…fae? Who put those lights up above that glitter and dart around?

Who’s playing that song in the distance that makes me feel just a bit woozy with laughter?

There are too many threads of color in the air to follow what magic’s connected to what person, and it adds a rainbow blanket over the whole scene.

But Alyth.

Now she’s right coated in magic threads. Like she just gives them off, pulsates with ’em where she’s storming across the room toward me. Red threads wind around her hands as if I needed any warning that she’s livid with me.

I force a swallow, correcting my posture to be sturdy and unmoved. I knew she’d be here. Knew I’d have to face her wrath and plead my case. The day of galloping on a horse with Darnley’s hunting group gave me time to come up with an argument as to why I should be allowed to stay and keep on living.

She’s just gotta give me a chance to say all of it first. She wouldn’t off me right in the middle of the party, would she? There are fae weapons that could do that, I bet. Kill a man in a crowd, make it look like nothing at all happened.

I shiver but pull a lazy smile across my face.

Alyth’s only a few paces away, dodging drunken revelers like they’re not even there, like we’re the only two people in this whole castle. Her face is set in a calm, terrifying sort of angry, like she’s so far gone into rage, she’s in her own sort of blacked-out state.

She might kill me at this party, but bloody hell, she’ll look stunning doing it.

She’s wearing some kind of silver mask. It glimmers and glows in the fancy magic lighting, makes her big eyes and the curled, pulled-back style of her dark hair even more regal.

Her matching gown is every bit as grand as befits this event, holding curves that her usual practical dresses haven’t shown, and my mouth dries at the sight.

The moment she reaches me, I don’t give her a chance to speak or use the red magic that’s gathering ’round her hands. I grab one of those hands, snap my other arm across her waist, and throw us into a sloppy dance.

Whatever’s passing for dancing has deteriorated already, thankfully. Most people are stumbling their way through barely recognizable movements. So Alyth and I twirling about in a jerky, half-arsed sway won’t go noticed.

But her body’s pressed to mine now. And my senses get swarmed over with her scent: wild grass and cool, sweet air.

Lord help me.

Pulling her close might’ve been an error on my part.

“Let go of me,” she snarls and shoves at my chest.

“Not until you hear me out,” I try.

“I told you what would happen if you stayed.” Her eyes lock on mine. “I protect this land, and you are a threat.”

No one can hear us talking softly to each other; we probably look like we’re saying sweet nothings.

For a moment, I imagine we are. That I pulled her close simply so I could whisper in her ear how I want to end the night by seeing what she looks like wearing that mask and nothing else.

Damn.

It was definitely an error to pull her close.

I shift a little space between us so I can breathe and get a good, strong grip on my runaway thoughts.

“I’m no threat, Alyth,” I promise her. “I’m staying, and I want to help you.”

She scoffs, but there’s a look in her eyes like exhaustion.

Does she have anyone helping her?

I spin us in a circle, the colored threads and lights whirling past us; we’re at the center of a star fall.

“I don’t need your help,” she says. I believe her. She doesn’t need anyone.

She doesn’t need anyone the same way I don’t need anyone. The same way I barely keep myself right on the edge of surviving, because who can I actually trust?

“Darnley and my father used me,” I whisper, my chest welling with anger, heat sweeping over me from the crowd and how close she is and all the questions looped around my neck like rope.

“There’s a possibility Darnley’s the one who’s got the fae weapon that cursed me, and I’m gonna get it on the chance I can undo that curse.

I’m not going anywhere until I’ve got that and answers to what he’s plotting with Cecil, which means I’m going to investigate Mary’s cock of a husband, and I can help you with that. ”

She scowls at me but doesn’t speak. And the way we’re dancing now, she’s moving with me, not stiff and pushing to get away.

“I went hunting with the bastard today, did you know that?” I tell her.

“He was hunting?” Alyth shrieks. The music softens it. “When he was supposed to be attending his only son’s baptism?”

I nod. “Got rip-roaring drunk before we’d even come back.

I left the prat in the stables, stumbling about with his equally drunk friends.

” My eye roll is tight and barely conveys just how strenuous it was to spend a full day with the man, but I’ll gladly do it again and again until I solve this.

“I know I can worm my way into his good graces more. I can get information from him, and I can give that information to you.”

She scoffs. “Can you? Because I should trust Cecil’s training?”

“Because I’m alive in spite of Cecil’s involvement in my life,” I tell her.

Intensity wells up in me, makes my words come fast and low.

“I grew up in London’s slum. I scrounged and scraped, lied and cheated, did all manner of things I’m not proud of, but I’m alive and here because I’m damn capable.

Cecil isn’t a fool. He wouldn’t have trusted me with any of the missions he sent me on if I weren’t good at what I do.

And I know you’ve been watching me, Alyth.

I know you see how I pull on facades, same as you do. You know I’m useful to you.”

She sucks in a breath, but before she can voice more concerns, I press on.

“But I ain’t too proud to admit I’m in over my head with this magic business. I might not know what answers I find when I find ’em. But you can decipher what I get. We need each other, you and I.”

I can see my reasoning settling on her, the way her eyes shift over me, considering.

“What are you seeing?” I hear myself ask. “When you look at me like that.”

Alyth flinches, her concentration breaking. Lovely spots of rose-petal pink stain her cheeks, and the sight topples my focus as the color spreads down her neck, across her collarbone.

Where else does it go?

I snap my gaze up to hers, hoping she didn’t catch me staring, but her eyes are flicking around my head, seeing, seeing .

“Your aura,” she tells me. “I can see your intentions. Whether you’re telling the truth, or at least what you believe to be true.”

“Auras?” My eyes go to the ceiling, seeing the color swirling around the lights. “I think I see that now. Is it over the sky, like an oil slick? And you had some red around your hands when you stormed up to me.”

Alyth’s head cocks as she thinks. “No. That’s—that’s magic. Seeing auras isn’t for every Leth.”

“But seeing magic is?”

She thinks more. “No. A few types of Leth but not all of them.”

“So whatever I am, I can see magic,” I say.

And it’s the first time I’ve accepted that maybe, I am some kind of half fae.

“And you can see auras.” My brain refocuses. “So you can tell I’m honest. You can trust me.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Alyth says softly.

We’re awful close. Spinning, swaying. And she’s stunning in this dress, with the reflection of those sparkly lights in her eyes.

Christ, stop. No way in hell she’s thinking any thoughts like that about someone she was set on killing until a few minutes ago, someone she might still very well kill.

I tell myself that.

Tell myself to put more space between our bodies.

But my hand stays around her waist, and I revel in the feel of her ribs expanding against my palm on a sharp breath.

Alyth’s jaw is still tense. “How did you not know you’re fae?”

“That’s one of the things I’m gonna find out. If you’ll help me. Please, Alyth.”

I’m hit by a sudden idea. Can’t believe it’s taken me this long to see it.

Maybe I really am fae—but so is Alyth. And she’s powerful, in charge of protecting Scotland somehow.

So she’d know a way out of this curse, wouldn’t she?

“If I get you the item that cursed me,” I whisper, “do you think you can undo it?”

Alyth’s glare tightens. I’m asking for a mighty favor from her, on the back of her still wanting to threaten me, but something like curiosity wins out, and she analyzes me.

“What’s your curse?” she asks. “You said it makes you hurt people?”

I nod quickly, feeling like if I don’t talk fast, she’ll reject me. “Black out sometimes, not sure what I do exactly. But I come to having attacked people, and anyone who sees me do it, they say—” I lick my lips, force a swallow. “They say I’ve lost all reason. Can’t be reached.”

Alyth’s face goes sad. Not quite pity but understanding. “That certainly sounds like the effect of a Red Cap weapon.”

“These fits have been coming on me since childhood, since I came into contact with—something, I don’t even remember what.

But I have to hope I’ll know it when I see it.

That some part of me will recognize it. If I get it, can you undo the curse?

Or is there hope to undo the curse without the weapon, maybe? ”

She shrugs, then shakes her head. “It would be far easier to know what type of magic we’re dealing with. To have the weapon itself. But if you did find it—”

A hesitation. I hold my breath, hold my hope.

“Then yes. I could find help for you to undo it. Not me personally, but I do know people who could help.”

A weight lifts, massive, staggering. It’s only because I’m holding on to her that I don’t go sprawling. I clutch her tighter; she’s a lifeline, an anchor in a long, violent storm, and I’m outright clinging to her now.

“Thank you. Thank you, Alyth,” I tell her, putting all my gratitude into those words.

My mind flashes with Hal’s scared eyes in the Clink. A barrage follows, similar fear from dozens of other people throughout my life. No one trusting me once they know what I do. No one staying.

Alyth just goes back to watching me. Searching, searching . Those eyes with the lights reflected are whole galaxies. She can see my gratitude now, I realize, but she still looks a beat away from rejecting all this outright.

“I don’t know what I am,” I whisper. “What type of fae or where I got it from. But no matter what, I’m just Samson. That won’t change. I’m just Samson, and maybe you can be just Alyth with me.”

I’m testing her by calling out her insecurities like this, and it isn’t manipulation like I usually do. No—this is real. This is truth. I’m helpless with her this close to me.

I’ve seen the way she patrols this castle, always set apart, intentionally making herself fade to the background so she can observe.

I’ve seen the way she interacts with the other people here, either faking a mask of subservience or lording commands like a queen.

There’s distance in her every interaction, and the few times I got a smile out of her, it seemed to truly shock her.

I think she’s just as lonely as I am.

Alyth exhales. I feel the warmth on my neck.

“If we discover anything that confirms you’re a danger to this land,” she tells me, her eyes sharpening, “I will show you no mercy.”

I grin, wide and giddy. She’s still threatening my life, and I can’t be arsed to care. “Yeah, that’s fair. You’ve got all the power in this, you realize? I’m entirely at your mercy already.”

She clocks my smile and rolls her eyes. “Do not make me regret this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lady Alyth.”

A flat, unamused look. “I already do.”

She starts to pull away, but my arms clamp fast.

“Wait.” Not yet. My heart stutters. I don’t want to lose this moment.

It’s more peaceful than I’ve felt in a long, long time.

Alyth could very well ignore me and get back to her business. But she stays, the two of us barely moving now, listing left and right as the crowd devolves into more drunken nonsense.

She looks at me expectantly.

“A code.” I flounder.

Alyth’s lips purse. “A code?”

“Yeah.” Just some reason to keep her here.

“We can communicate in code using different birds and their calls. Partridge is all clear. Robin is danger. Goldfinch is when we’ve got information.

Redwing is when you’ve got a plan. We can refer to them or make their calls.

I’ll get in with Darnley and let you know I’ve got something that way. Keep it secret.”

Alyth smiles.

Smiles.

It’s small and vanishes nearly as soon as it comes, but I hold the image of it close.

Warmth tingles in my stomach.

“Is this the official spy communication of Elizabeth’s court?” she asks, and I get the feeling she’s laughing at me, but I don’t care. I made her happy for a moment, and that’s a mighty victory.

“Nah. Some folks I lived with in Southwark came up with it.”

Her face smooths out. Something—not amusement. Not anger, though, or offense. Like she’s trying to figure me out still, but she’s slowly giving up or giving in.

She shakes her head. “You’re—”

But I don’t find out what she thinks I am.

Someone taps her on the shoulder. “Lady Alyth?”

And when we both turn, I damn near swallow my tongue.