by Meg Anne
“Seems easy enough,” she murmured. “But what’s in it for you?”
The men around her chuckled. “The side bets can be just as lucrative as the castle. For instance, Nile”—her friend pointed to the heavyset man with bright blue eyes sitting across from her—“believes that Tomas will go undefeated. He’s got an entire purse up for grabs if he’s wrong.”
Effie nodded, understanding how the game would be a lure for spectators and players alike. She gulped the amber liquid, sputtering a little at its strength. She’d drank ale and mead often enough, but this was more potent in flavor.
The men chuckled again, Tomas sparing her only a passing glance before laying down a card that had his opponent groaning and the other three cheering. Squinting Effie leaned in, trying to get a better look at the card. It was a woman robed in purple. Effie didn’t need anyone to tell her who that was supposed to be.
“The Kiri,” she murmured.
The man beside her nodded. “Most powerful card in the game. Davis is doomed.”
Effie smirked. Helena would have loved that.
It didn’t take long for Effie to get lost in the game, shouting out her own words of encouragement and making ridiculous wagers of her own. She had nothing to gamble with, but her new friends didn’t seem to mind. They only egged her on, ensuring her cup was filled and convincing her that it was finally time for her to take a turn storming the castle.
Effie, giggling with laughter and having the time of her life, couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do.
Chapter 8
Lucian strode into the dining hall, stopping short when he saw Kieran slumped over one of the tables. The Eatonian was obnoxious at the best of times, but something about the defeated slump of his shoulders gave Lucian pause.
“Contemplating your dinner options?” Lucian called dryly, making his way to the buffet table that was kept filled throughout the day.
Kieran swung his head up, his eyes shooting daggers at Lucian before he schooled his face back into his usual bored expression. “Something like that.”
Lucian noted the purple blotches that formed a very distinct pattern on Kieran’s face. “You going to tell me what happened?”
“My, aren’t you feeling chatty all of a sudden.”
Lucian continued to pile food onto his plate. “Last I heard you were working with the girl. What’d you do to her?”
Anger shone in Kieran’s eyes, the dangerous glint a warning to tread lightly. “My job,” he gritted out.
Raising a brow, Lucian asked, “Teaching her the laws of the Keepers led to her feeling the need to hit you in the face? I’m familiar enough with the urge myself, but I find it odd that she would be so inclined.”
Color bloomed in Kieran’s cheeks. Outright hostility Lucian was used to, expected even, but an outward sign of regret from the once prince was unusual enough that Lucian stopped what he was doing.
“That was what you were told to do, wasn’t it? Teach her the ways of the Keepers?”
Kieran gave a terse nod.
“So, what’s the problem?”
Lucian watched Kieran work his jaw and narrowed his eyes with growing suspicion. A familiar scent tickled his nose and Lucian breathed it in, understanding dawning. Halus bane.
“What did you do?” he demanded, stalking over to the other man.
Kieran flinched, but faced him head-on. “What needed to be done.”
Lucian grasped him by the collar and pulled him to his feet. Shaking him slightly he growled, “Halus bane, Kieran? Are you really as stupid as you look? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is for a novice?”
Kieran slapped at the hand still gripping his tunic, but Lucian only held tighter, pulling the man up on the tips of his toes.
“In a controlled environment—”
Lucian shoved Kieran away. “You damned fool. Do you even know what you’ve done? The herb will be in her system for hours. She shouldn’t be left alone—” Fuming, Lucian shook his head, cutting off the flood of words. “Where is she?”
Kieran shrugged, the color in his cheeks deepening.
“You just let her go?” Lucian roared.
“She stormed off. What was I supposed to do?”
“Go after her, you mopey piece of shit! I knew you were dumb, but I didn’t realize you were fucking useless.”
Food forgotten, Lucian spun around.
“How do you intend to find a girl you’ve never met?” Kieran called after him.
Lucian didn’t bother to reply. He was a seasoned hunter, there wasn’t a creature in this realm he couldn’t track. One way or the other, he’d find her.
Chapter 9
Effie’s opponent looked up from his cards long enough to throw her a smug grin. “You should have given up, sweetheart.”
It didn’t take the men long to realize Effie was far from a skilled gambler. A fact they were quick to press to their advantage. What had started off as a fun game between friends had taken a sharp turn somewhere along the way, and most of Effie’s pleasant buzz was starting to fade as a bead of sweat snaked its way along her back.
Swallowing, Effie shrugged. “I still have my tunic and pants.” But that was all she had. When the few coins she’d won through her side bets were gone, the men told her she could barter her finely crafted garments in their stead.
“Not for much longer,” he crowed, throwing down his last two cards.
Effie stared at the Kiri card in dismay. Game over. She was either walking out of here without a shirt or without her pants. Neither one sounded like a good time.
Licking her lips, Effie reached for her mug, draining it in the hopes the extra time would provide her with a third option.
“That’s enough stallin’, sweetheart. Pay up.”
There was nothing friendly about the men’s leers as they stared at her. Standing slowly, hoping the shaking of her legs wasn’t too obvious, Effie’s fingers moved to the ties at her waist. Her tunic fell to the tops of her thighs, so it seemed the safest bet if she had any hope of maintaining some of her modesty. At worst, she’d only be exposed in the brief time it took her to pull the leather over her hips. She only saw a flash of black on her right before a grip like iron tore her fingers from her pants. A sharp tug sent her tumbling to the side.
“The lady is finished for the evening,” a growling voice declared.
The men started to argue, and Effie glanced up at the stranger who’d dared to intercede. He towered over her. Mother’s tits, he’s a giant.
She craned her neck up in an attempt to make out his face. Once she did, she wished she hadn’t. It was twisted in a dangerous scowl. His lips pulled back in a snarl, the white of his teeth a shocking contrast to the dark scruff of his beard. It was hard to make out the color of his eyes, narrowed as they were under the slash of his brows, but she guessed they were a brown so dark they were all but black. His hair was long, windblown, the dark curls tangling together where they fell just below his shoulders.
All in all, her rescuer was terrifying, and Effie wasn’t so sure he was the safer of her options.
Hoping he was too focused on them to notice her, she started to tug her wrist back. His grip tightened, pulling a timid squeak from her. So much for not being a mouse. She glanced down at the hand that held her in place, blinking when she realized it was easily the size of both of hers together. No wonder she couldn’t pull from his grasp. His hand easily spanned the better half of her forearm. She followed the arm up, gulping back her fear as she tried to process the sheer amount of muscle he possessed. He can snap me in two.
“Fair’s fair. The lady owes us a debt.”
A heavy bag fell onto the table, the weight of it causing it to topple. Greedy hands snatched the bag up before it could fall and spill its contents over the grimy floor.
“Debt’s been paid.”
“Who the ‘ell you think you are?” the redhead with the topknot demanded, pushing to his feet.
Her rescuer turned toward
Tomas, leveling him with an angry glare.
A frightened voice whispered behind him, “‘E’s one of them Guardians.”
The color leeched from Tomas’ face, and the men began to back away from the table. Holding up his hands, Tomas stuttered, “Didn’t mean no trouble.”
Effie thought she heard her rescuer growl.
A wet stain grew in Tomas’ pants as he stumbled away from the table and began to run for the door.
Terrified, Effie stared up at the man the others were so afraid of. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned that scowl on her for the first time. If it was possible, he seemed to grow even angrier.
“Grab your things,” he ordered.
Flinching, Effie picked up her boots and cloak from where they’d fallen on the floor. She wasn’t sure who he was, or why he felt entitled to boss her around, but self-preservation beat out fear.
“Let’s go.”
Effie blinked up at him. “G-go where?”
“I’m taking you back to the citadel.”
Relief made her knees weak. If he was taking her back there, then he couldn’t mean her any harm. She scurried to the door, not needing to look to know that he was on her heels.
“I know the way from here,” she called over her shoulder, hoping he might leave her to make the trip on her own.
All she got in return was another glower.
They walked in silence: her steps quick and uneven, his soundless. If it weren’t for the sheer force of his presence, she would have thought she was alone. Shivering in the dark, Effie stumbled. A hand shot out and kept her from falling forward. Apparently, she wasn’t entirely sober just yet.
Manners warred with pride.
Manners won.
“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to pry one of his fingers off of her arm. It didn’t budge.
“Watch where you’re going.”
The not-so-gentle rebuke had her shoulders lifting defensively. So much for manners. “The ground is uneven.”
One long, slow glance down at the perfectly smooth walkway was his only response.
“I don’t even know your name.” She tried to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t sure she succeeded.
One beat of silence, and then another. Effie sighed, convinced he was only going to ignore her again.
“Lucian.”
She looked over in shock. He stood just between two of the street’s lamps, but his face was somehow cast in shadows. Not being able to see his expression almost made it easier to talk to him. “I’m Effie.”
“I know.”
Riiiiight. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d already judged her and found her wanting. The thought was like an itch just out of reach, and she squirmed uncomfortably under the weight of it.
“I had everything under control, you know.”
A pointed glance at the boots she still carried told her what he thought.
“I didn’t need you to rescue me,” she insisted, stopping to turn and face him. “I can take care of myself.”
“I beg to differ.”
Boots and cloak falling to the ground, Effie balled her hands into fists. “You don’t even know me.”
He took a step toward her, and Effie stepped back. He kept coming, and she matched him step for step, until her back was pressed against the wall. Lucian closed the distance between them, leaning down so she could see his eyes glittering in the soft light.
“I know all that I need to know about you.”
The words, so filled with arrogant conviction, ignited that part of her that was tired of being not good enough. For the third time in the course of the day, Effie found herself facing off with a man twice—or in this case maybe thrice—her size.
She shoved at his chest, and the force of it zinged up her arms. Unimpressed, Lucian continued to crowd her.
Effie’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “If you don’t step back, my dagger is going to find a new sheath.”
“You don’t have your dagger.”
Her fingers grazed the spot where it had been strapped to her leg only to come up empty.
Lucian held it up so that its sharp edge glinted. “Not much of a threat when you’re so easily disarmed.”
Frustration burned in the back of her throat, but she wouldn’t back down. Whether it was the warm buzz of alcohol that still flowed through her, or an inner strength she was just now discovering, Effie was fearless. For once, she would not be the one to walk away.
“It’s not the only weapon in my arsenal,” she spat.
Lucian anticipated her move at the last second, dodging just in time for her knee to slam into his thigh.
“That’s enough.”
“It’s enough when I say it is,” she sneered, lunging at him. He blocked her blows easily, although a few grunts were enough to let her know some of them still landed with considerable force.
Grasping both her wrists in one of his hands, he pressed her arms up over her head and into the wall. “Control yourself.”
With a cry that was more animal than human, Effie twisted her hand and sank her teeth into his forearm.
Lucian grunted as the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth. His other hand snaking into the base of her braid, he forcibly pulled her head away. She bit down harder, but she was no match for his brute strength.
“Stop it, before you hurt yourself.”
“You’re the one that’s bleeding.” Her grin must have looked savage with his blood smeared down her chin.
Lucian muttered something she didn’t quite catch. It sounded like hell’s bane.
“What did you just call me?”
Turning back to her, he shook his head. “There’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
“Out of control,” he growled, letting go of her wrists so suddenly she was too surprised to react.
Dipping, Lucian wrapped an arm around her thighs and stood, taking her with him. The unexpected shift in altitude threw her off balance and she fell forward, landing over his shoulder. The wind was knocked out of her with a whoosh. Lucian didn’t bother to see if she was alright; he just started walking.
Once she regained her breath, she began to struggle in earnest. “Hey . . . put me down! What do you think you’re doing? My boots!”
The change in gravity tugged her hair free of its braid and her hair spilled over like a waterfall, completely obscuring her view of everything except his back. She pounded against the muscled surface, but Lucian was done talking. He didn’t stop until they reached the citadel, where he dropped her without a word just inside the archive’s doors.
Fuming, ready to go another round with him, Effie shoved her hair out of her face. But instead of Lucian, she was face-to-face with two familiar scarlet robes.
Elder’s sagging sack.
Chapter 10
Dirty, embarrassed, and still more drunk than not, Effie stared at the hooded men in silence. That resolution lasted all of three seconds.
“I’m sorry I left, I just needed—”
“You are not a prisoner here.”
“You are free to come and go as you please.”
“Although, it would have been best if you let someone know so they may escort you.”
“If I’m not a prisoner, why do I require an escort?”
“To ensure you are safe while you become familiar with your new surroundings.”
Effie huffed, annoyed that they chose now to be completely reasonable. Folding her arms, she asked one of the questions that had been eating at her. “Who were those people I met tonight?”
“Just like any city, we have need of local craftsmen to make and sell the goods we use.”
Oh. That did make sense. “So, they weren’t Keepers?”
Mirror One shrugged. “A few of the patrons may have been, but not all.”
Somehow Effie doubted her gambling buddies held the gift of prophecy.
“About Kieran . . .”
Effie’s
gaze sharpened at the mention of her tutor.
“He should have never used the halus bane without permission.”
Halus bane . . . that must have been the blue herb, she thought.
“For a first-time user especially, it is crucial that certain guidelines are followed to ensure their well-being.”
“The herb is potent, and its side effects unpredictable.”
Side effects? Effie straightened. “What do you mean?”
There was a beat of silence before they responded, and Effie had the feeling they were choosing their next words with care.
“In small doses, the herb—”
“Induces visions, I know.”
“It also lowers our protective instincts.”
That sounded less good.
“Moreover, it is our belief that some visions are kept from us because of the message they contain.”
The image of bloody talons floated through her mind.
“The herb allows us to access such visions because our minds are no longer able to fully protect themselves against it.”
“By lowering our guard, we are also more prone to making decisions that might not be in our best interest.”
Heat flooded her face as Effie recalled her evening. They were putting it mildly.
“So, you’re saying tonight was a result of the halus bane?”
They dipped their hoods in unison.
Rolling her lips together, Effie stared past them at the hall that would lead to her room. So not even her little display of independence was really her own. An exhaustion unlike any other pulled at her limbs.
“He should not have let you go off on your own without protection.”
“It will not happen again.”
Her gaze snapped back to them. “What are you saying?”
“We are assigning you one of our Guardians.”
“You will not be alone outside of these walls again.”
The man from the pub’s words came back to her. ‘‘E’s one of them Guardians.’
“No. No way,” she protested, shaking her head vehemently. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“It is for your safety.”