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CHAPTER TWO

T oday is the day. Today is the day.

Xenia Cirillo repeated the words to herself as she paced outside the entrance to Ohan Stolia’s headquarters in downtown Rhamnos.

And though this particular mantra had failed her for the past week, Xenia still believed in the power of positive thinking.

After all, what was it if not her sunny determination—and maybe a bit of luck—that had helped her survive in this overcrowded, crime-ridden continental city?

When she’d first arrived at this address seven days ago, she’d been brimming with certainty. Ohan had already helped her once, at Cael’s request, when he’d arranged passage for her to the colonies on one of his cargo ships. And though she’d abandoned that ticket, she knew, just knew , in her heart that Ohan would be moved by her desire to reunite with Cael. That the transportation magnate would find a way to get her to Brachos.

If only she could speak with him.

She hadn’t yet achieved that part. Every day she’d been thwarted by the Deathstalker female who manned the front desk.

Daphne.

A tiny, elegant dictator with a golden nametag pinned to her crisp white blazer.

That first day, Daphne had taken one look at Xenia in all her bedraggled, frizzy-haired glory, and promptly used a commstone to call security.

Xenia had rushed out of the building before she was escorted out. Or worse.

That interaction had been a bit unlucky, even Xenia would admit that.

But afterward, what could it have been other than luck that had guided her to a human shelter mere blocks away, nestled between two skyscrapers? Perhaps it was the Goddess Letha smiling down upon her, grateful for all Xenia’s years of service at her namesake Temple in Thalenn. Actually, the sparse, simple accommodations at the shelter reminded Xenia of her Temple quarters, and the two Beastrunner females who ran the place were the kindest Fae she’d yet met on the continent. They’d fed her, allowed her to bathe, and had given her a place to sleep in between attempts to breach the wall of Daphne.

Xenia had even made a few new friends among the other humans, mostly victims of the Fae traffickers. Some had escaped their bonds, others had been discarded by their masters. But to a one, they held out hope of returning to the colonies and to their families. Xenia promised to plead their case with Ohan as soon as she could gain an audience with him.

They’d all thanked her for the offer, even as they warned her away from her own plans. They were shocked she wanted to journey farther into the continent. Especially given the unrest from the burgeoning Teles Chrysos rebellion. They said the continent was more dangerous now for humans than it had ever been, despite the rebels fighting on their behalf.

They sounded far too much like Cael.

Xenia shrugged them off, fully believing in the luck that had seen her this far.

Luck that had delivered her a wonderful gift today.

Daphne was gone .

Xenia tried not to squeal with excitement as she entered the building, the automatic glass doors whooshing shut behind her. She crossed the sleek, marble-floored lobby, shoulders back, confidence soaring with every step.

She plastered on a friendly smile that wavered only slightly when Daphne’s cream-winged replacement did not match it.

“Can I help you?” The Windrider’s nose crinkled as he raked upturned black eyes over her filthy dress—the sky-blue one she’d been living in, sleeping in, for the past week. She couldn’t tell if he was more insulted by her attire, her scent, or her humanity. Probably all three.

“I’m here to see Ohan Stolia,” she said with only a slight wobble. She cheered herself for her courage.

The Windrider crossed his arms and rustled his feathers. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I don’t. But I’m sure he’d want to meet with me.”

The male pursed his lips to signal he wasn’t sure of that at all. Xenia brushed her knuckles along the hilt of her dagger. Well, Cass’s dagger. The one Cael had given her to return to her friend. The Windrider’s gaze dipped to the weapon, tied at Xenia’s hip with a crude piece of rope.

“Your name?” The words oozed off his tongue.

Despite his obvious disdain, Xenia’s heart leapt. This was far further than she’d ever gotten with Daphne.

“Xenia. Xenia Cirillo. We share a friend in common—Cael Zephyrus.”

A tiny flash of recognition lit up the male’s face. He may not have heard of Cael, but he certainly knew Cael’s last name thanks to his famous father—Arran Zephyrus, High Councilor of Brachos.

The Windrider whispered a message into his palm.

Xenia caught the phrase young human female and thought she heard him repeat her name, though she couldn’t be sure.

He crossed his arms, glaring beneath lowered brows as he awaited an answer to his windwhisper.

Beneath his right ear, his violet commstone glowed and a forced grin exposed sharp canines. “Head on up. Twenty-fifth floor. He’ll be waiting for you.” He tapped a screen on the desk and the waist-high gate to Xenia’s left opened. Before she could cross through, he snatched her upper arm. “Leave the dagger. No weapons allowed within the building.”

Xenia hesitated, her fist clenched around the hilt. The weapon was more than just a means of protection. It was a token of hope. The gift she’d offer Cassandra if—no, when —she saw her friend again. Giving it up felt like abandoning that possibility.

“Hurry up,” the Windrider spat. “Master Stolia is an extremely busy male.”

Xenia sighed, then handed over the dagger. She’d tell Ohan, ask him to give it back to her. Right after she had a very long chat with him about his rude staff.

Her mood buoyed as she approached the bank of elevators. It was happening. She’d soon be on her way out of Rhamnos and on her way toward Cael.

She day-dreamed about their reunion as she waited for the elevator. Upon first sight, he’d likely be upset that she’d gambled with her safety. But he’d soften. She knew he would.

A male didn’t kiss with such fervor, didn’t do those other things Cael had done to her, if his feelings weren’t genuine. And strong. She’d been fooled once before. But she wasn’t fooled by him. Not for a second. Not even when he’d left Ohan’s ship, stubbornly insisting she was safer without him.

A soft ding sounded, breaking her reverie, and the middle set of doors opened.

Though she’d never ridden in an elevator—such things didn’t exist in the colonies—she had a passing knowledge of how they worked, having studied Fae technology in the Temple library. She pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor.

The glowing numbers ticked upwards, and her stomach dipped.

Fifteen.

Eighteen.

Twenty-two.

By the time they approached twenty-five, Xenia was vibrating with excitement. She’d made it. She’d gotten her meeting with Ohan. Soon, she’d be on a train to Brachos, she’d find Cael, and he’d be so touched that he’d?—

The elevator doors slid apart and Xenia’s excitement fizzled.

The male who stood in the hallway was not Ohan Stolia, the yak Beastrunner with the jovial laugh and avuncular manners.

This male had short platinum hair, a ruddy complexion, and a face that had been recently added to Xenia’s all-too-frequent nightmares.

The fox bi-form who’d attempted to buy her from Cael last week.

She smashed the buttons in an attempt to re-close the doors, but it was too late. The Beastrunner snatched her arm with supernatural speed and yanked her into the hallway.

He pinned her arms, crushing her against his chest as a wicked smile transformed his vulpine features into something truly terrifying. “Hello again, pretty blonde pet.”

Before she could scream, he crushed a wet rag over her mouth.

She kicked and flailed as he dragged her down the sterile hallway, her soles squeaking against the tiles as the overhead lights screamed their insectile buzz.

The bitter-scented liquid on the rag cocooned her mind in a cottony haze, and the Beastrunner whispered into her ear.

“Your Vestian should have taken my original offer.”