A muffled creak, as though someone sitting in a chair had stirred, had him tensing. Only when his eyes opened did he realize that they’d been closed. That he was in a bed.
The room was dark, heavy curtains drawn and the weak glow of a bedside lamp casting flickering shadows along rough stone walls. And then he saw her, tense and too pale, and sitting in a chair next to him.
“Eliza.” He hadn’t meant to say her name, but it burst out of him in a rather pathetic croak. Pathetic too was the relief he felt upon seeing her.
She’d been reading a book, but upon hearing him, set it aside and picked up a glass of water. She moved to the bed, bringing her clean, sweet scent closer, and offered him a drink. The wall of his abdomen ached as he shoved up on one elbow and drank deep. Cool, clear water washed down his parched throat. His hand shook only a little as he passed the glass back to her.
“I have some broth for you as well,” she said, gesturing to a table at the other end of the room where a tray sat.
He eyed the soup bowl with displeasure. Where was a good slab of beef when a man wanted it? “I’ve not had my teeth pulled. Am I to be offered pap next?”
“Pap?” She blinked in confusion.
Right, she was a Yank. “Food for infants…” Adam waved a negligent hand. “Never you mind.” He surveyed the room again. “Where are we?”
“With the GIM, of course.” Her brow wrinkled as she peered down at him. “Or did you think that they’d turn us away?”
They’d have every right to. But he didn’t voice the obvious, only moved to sit back. She stopped him with a fleeting touch on his shoulder before leaning over him to adjust the pillows. Adam closed his eyes and simply breathed her in, letting her warmth seep into his bones. Should he look at her now, at the smooth arch of her neck or the soft rise of her breasts, he’d pull her into the bed with him. And then what? He was too weak to do what he wanted with her, and she’d surely clout him.
Thankfully, Eliza was quick and soon stepped away from him, giving him room to breathe without fear of drowning in her heady scent. He leaned back, never taking his eyes from her.
“Believe it or not,” she said, a smile forming in her dark eyes, “you’re much improved.”
He wanted to snort, but his ribs hurt too much. “So then, not so much resembling a man trampled beneath a carriage’s wheels? Now, that is an improvement.”
The smile reached her lips. “Battered but not wrecked.”
Heat rushed through his blood. She of the Eternal Frowns was smiling at him. But then he remembered how she’d last seen him, as a weak, crumpled coward, held in her arms. Running a tired hand over his face, Adam surveyed the room before glancing down at himself. He wore a worn yet soft work shirt, and it lay half undone, exposing a swath of his chest. The infernal chains remained. That had to be dealt with. Among other things.
Eliza tidied his covers before refilling his glass of water and generally fussing about, doing everything other than look him in the eye. She smoothed her woolen skirts as she sat once again. Only then did her brown eyes meet his. “Do you feel better?”
He gave a slight nod. “Have I been out for a fair bit?”
“All night. It’s going on noon now. I drew the drapes so that you might sleep.” She picked a spot just above his shoulder to study with undue attentiveness.
“What,” Adam said in a firm tone, “are you hiding from me, Miss May?”
Her pretty, pink mouth opened like a blooming rose. Then abruptly shut. “Tell me, what is it that Mellan wants?”
“You only ask after Mellan’s desires,” he said carefully. “Not Mab’s?”
Her gaze slid over him and then flicked away. “I know what Mab wants from you.”
The tartness in her tone had him grinning. “She wants many things. One of them being power over death. All fae want that because death frightens them.”
“Well, it frightens me too, if I’m honest,” Eliza retorted.
“You have fae blood, love.”
She did not like that; her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. Adam thought it prudent to move on. “Mab was under the impression that I know the location of a weapon called the Golden Horn an Bás. It’s thought to call the dead and command them. I’ve no idea where this weapon is, or if it’s even real,” he added when Eliza leaned forward in anticipation.
With a little huff, she settled back. “Well, that won’t be very helpful.”
“I do, however,” Adam said with a small smile of satisfaction, “know the location of an object Mellan desires.”
At this, Eliza went oddly stiff, her mouth thinning. Adam watched her as he spoke. “My sword. The one I used when I was a knight those many centuries ago. He fears this sword because it is one of the only objects that can actually kill a fae.”
The chair beneath Eliza scraped over the floorboards as she lurched to her feet and paced over to the curtained window. She did not peek out of it but leaned her head against the thick woolen hangings.
“Eliza,” Adam said softly – when really he wanted to shout – “tell me what it is you hide from me.”
Her shoulders tensed on an indrawn breath. “He wants me to kill you.”
Little surprised Adam anymore, but the confession kicked him in the gut just the same. “And how are you to accomplish that?”
Slowly, she turned and pinned him with her dark brown eyes. “He said for me to free you, and that you would lead him to a prize he’s been coveting. And then…” She trailed off, biting down on her plump bottom lip.
As for Adam, he felt as though he were made of lead. It took effort to speak. “So our bargain —”
“I made that bargain with you before he demanded this.” Her cheeks paled. “He was not fooled when I refused to whip you, and he became suspicious.”
With a jerk of his head, Adam nodded. It eased him to know she hadn’t initially sought his help as part of Mellan’s plan. Though the thought of Mellan sending Eliza on a fool’s errand to presumably cut off Adam’s head with his own sword had him seeing red. How could the bloody fool possibly think Eliza could go up against a seasoned fighter? “And are you?”
Eliza frowned. “Am I what?”
“Going to kill me.” At this point, Adam did not know if he’d try to stop her. He did not think he could bear defending himself against her.
She lowered her head, her lashes fluttering down as well. “I suppose I deserve that.” When she looked at him, her expression was composed but hate burned in her eyes. It was strong enough to have him flinching. Her smooth voice flowed over him. “There is only one being I long to destroy, and that is Mellan.” She leaned in a little. “You promised to help me be free. Then help me be free of him, and I shall…”
“What?” he whispered. “Do whatever I want? Give yourself to me?”
Her nostrils flared, but she did not waver from her fierce stare. Adam waved a hand. “Be at ease. I thought I made it perfectly clear that I have no interest in having you under duress.”
Eliza merely blinked, still not moving, and Adam resisted the urge to fidget in his bed. “What is Mellan to you, Eliza? An old lover? What is the connection?”
She flinched. “We never… He’d hint at wanting that, use it as a threat to scare me. But, no, thank the gods, no.” A fine flush covered her cheeks. “There was a man or two, young lieutenants in his gang in Boston, when I wanted basic comfort.” At once she stopped and took a breath and gave him a glare. “Not that it is any of your business.”
Adam laughed a little, holding up his palms. “You’ll find no judgment from me. Although, in the fairness of truth, the idea of Mellan touching you revolts me, if only because I hate him. Thus it is more the notion of being offended on your behalf, lass.”
She smiled then. “In the spirit of honesty, Adam, I feel the same outrage over Mab on your behalf.”
He found himself grinning like a fool. Were he not weakened and in pain, he’d pull her into the bed with him. The moment between them grew thic
k and taught, and his breath quickened, despite his wretched state, but she broke from his gaze and a frown worked its way across her brow.
“So then, Mellan wants some old sword of yours.”
“Old,” he scoffed. “You make it, and me, sound like a dusty relic.”
Almost as if she had no control over it, her gaze went to his bared chest. He felt it like a soft glove stroking his skin, and his gut tightened with sweet pleasure. Lord, if he got his hands on her, let him not unman himself by going off like a lad. Adam cleared his throat. And so did she.
“There’s more,” she said. “Last night, I had a visitor.”
Adam scowled. “Who? Are you hurt? What happened?”
“Nothing like that.” She eyed him. “It was Daisy. The woman who called you to me?”
“Ah, yes, Daisy Ranulf.” He quite liked the saucy wench. In truth, there was much about her that reminded him of Eliza. “Did she want to see me?” Adam really didn’t want to be seen in this condition. But Daisy was his child just as any other, and he would not turn her away.
“Yes.” Eliza’s expression was grim. “Adam, she was stuck in spirit form. She could not return to her body, and…” Eliza sucked in a breath. “Adam, the GIM are ill somehow… Did you not notice how wane they all are? I’ve been talking to them. They say there are those who have simply vacated their bodies and died.”
All these months, Adam had known fear and rage. But it had been directed toward his own predicament. Now his chest constricted as a lump rose within his throat. His children. Ill. Dying.
Rage without an outlet or hope of recourse was a terrible thing. It turned in on itself and ate away at one’s soul. A man could wither under such emotion. Adam ground his teeth, taking a ragged breath as he stared up at the rough-beamed ceiling. “I cannot help them.”
“What?” Eliza’s question was a breath of outrage.
His chains clattered as he punched the mattress. “Have you gone deaf? I cannot do a thing. I’ve lost my power. Nor do I know why this has occurred.” Adam blinked rapidly. “What am I to do, Eliza? I’m no longer their king, but a mere man.”
“You are our king still,” said a voice from the doorway. Mr. Brown, the proprietor.
He looked at Adam as though he was a source of salvation. Weariness weighed down Adam’s body. “No, I cannot help you.” He lifted his head and took in the GIM hovering at the door. It seemed the whole of the inn had crowded forward, wanting to hear his confession. Pain turned to regret. “The fae bitch spoke true. I am without power.” Slowly, he eased to standing, swaying a bit with the effort. “To harbor me is ill advised.”
A ripple seemed to go through the room. They knew what he was saying. He was giving himself up to their care or letting them turn him over to Mab.
“Can you no see our souls? Or hear our thoughts?” said a young woman, her brow furrowed as she looked up at him.
“No.” The word punctured the taut silence. It hurt to say. More than he’d expected. He’d ruled them with utter conviction. But no more.
Instead of sneering, however, the woman’s lashes swept down as if his confession wounded her. “Which explains why you don’t realize that we would never hand you over.”
And as a lump of emotion clogged Adam’s throat, a fine-looking man with a youthful face but a world-weary voice spoke up. “Were you to hear our thoughts, you’d know. You are our sire. Now and forever.”
The clothes Mr. Brown brought Adam were not of good fit or high quality. Adam hadn’t wanted that. “I need to appear working class,” he’d told the GIM.
The assumption being that Adam would attract less notice that way. Eliza rather thought he could not be more wrong. A fine specimen of a man without window dressing simply made the architecture of his body that much more appealing. No matter how dull and shapeless the cut of his trousers were, they could not hide his massive thighs, nor the length of his legs. The wrinkled white work shirt worn open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows merely drew attention to the strong column of his throat and the ropey muscles along his forearms.
They were going out today. They had two objectives now. Meet with an oracle and obtain the sword from Lucien Stone. In that order.
“If Mellan expects you to lead him to your sword, that means he’s following us.”
“Logic would assume so.” Adam, having apparently decided to put on a jacket, proceeded to secure the top button of his collar.
“Then why on earth should we go to retrieve it? You are not at your best.” Eliza winced as he frowned, and she hurried on. “I’m sorry to be blunt about that, but it does concern me.”
“Concerned about my welfare or my ability to protect you, Miss May?”
“I’ll leave that to your imagination, or rather you may let your rather large conceit decide.
“I’m being serious, Adam” – his chest lifted at her use of his name – “why go after your sword with this threat hanging over our heads?”
He was silent for a moment, and she dared not lift her head to meet his eyes. With a distinct step backwards, he put a small distance between them. “We need it for these.” He lifted his wrists and the chains clanked loudly. “The sword is a fae weapon, Miss May. Coated with iron, unbreakable, and capable of killing a fae warrior. I stole it long ago when I was a knight.” He grinned, showing his bold, white teeth. “Didn’t realize what it was at the time, but you can be sure I’ll not be giving it back.”
“And this sword will cut through your chains?”
“By your hand?” He glanced at her hands, resting in her lap. “Yes.”
“And the sword is with Lucien?”
“It is on Lucien’s barge. However, that is being watched,” Adam said.
“Can Lucien not simply bring it to us?” Lucien was Adam’s right hand. Eliza had watched him when she’d been with Adam before; the GIM was charming, crafty, and loyal.
Adam had looked pained then. “If anyone could find him. But he’s gone off somewhere, and I’ll not trust another with retrieving the sword.”
“Then why not retrieve it before we go to the oracle?”
“You’ve endless questions, Miss May,” he said mildly.
“Yes, and you’re constantly fueling more of them.” Eliza sat in a chair, unwilling to move until she was satisfied. “Answer them.”
Adam grunted. Clearly being ordered to talk was not something he liked. “The sword will keep. The oracle will not. I want to get there before someone else does.”
Eliza lurched upright. “Is the oracle in danger?”
“Every oracle is in danger, dove. But the more likely case here is that Mab or Mellan will persuade the oracle to lie to us.” He shot her a look. “I’d rather have my information untainted, wouldn’t you?”
She made a noise of agreement. And the corner of his mouth tilted upward. He really was a fine-looking man.
Adam, in the act of slipping on a brown wool vest and buttoning it up, caught her gaze and stilled. The golden eyes of a hawk pinned her. “Why do you look at me so?” he asked in his dark, coffee voice.
Eliza willed herself to remain light and unaffected. “And how is it that I am looking at you?”
He peered at her, his head canting just a bit. “As if you find me amusing.” Oh, but it was clear he did not find that amusing in the least. And he could not have been more wrong. Obviously, he hadn’t the faintest notion how charismatic he was. The GIM that cared for him could hardly keep their eyes off of him. True, he no longer possessed that odd, overwhelming sexual pull that his powers had given him. This was more subtle, but no less potent. Adam, the man, was one of those rare persons who others would always long to be near.
And, by God, he was magnificent.
“I was thinking,” she said, “that you’d have been better off dressed in those horrid plaid trousers. At the very least, you’d look ridiculous.”
His scowl grew, but oddly so did the color upon his high-cut cheeks. He was blushing. How charming. Eli
za found herself smiling, and he grumbled low in his throat at the action. “I bloody well despise those trousers, and why the bloody hell would you want me to look ridiculous?”
“You stick out like a candle at midnight as you are now.”
His gaping mouth abruptly snapped shut but his flush darkened, turning his golden skin ruddy. When he spoke again, it was gruff. “I’m dressed as a common laborer. No one pays them any mind.”
They will if the laborer looks as good as you do.
With brusque movements, Adam tucked a limp, grey neckerchief around his collar and began to tie it. In front of her, as if she were his wife. A blush stole over her cheeks, and she counted herself a ninny. She’d seen him unclothed so many times now that, were she to close her eyes, she could still map the lines of his strong body with neat precision.
“You’re tying that neckerchief all wrong,” she observed.
He snorted in amusement, “It’s a poorly cut lump of cloth, Miss May. Ugly clothing, ugly fit.”
Though she ought to stay put, Eliza moved to help him with his collar. One end was sticking up at an odd angle and would not settle no matter how he fussed with it. Gently, she smoothed it, aware of his proximity and the warmth of his big body. He watched her, his gaze lowering to her lips. As if greedy for his attention, they seemed to plump up, becoming sensitized to every light brush of his breath.
She felt her body slow down, growing hot and languid, wanting to melt against him. Eliza tried to fight it, taking steady breaths. As she began to tie the rather horrid cloth around his neck, she spoke in a low, and not altogether steady, voice, “One would think you’ve never dressed yourself before.”
“Mmm…” His voice was a deep rumble. “Or perhaps I’d rather you helped me.”
Her gaze flicked up, shocked. She started to speak, but the door burst open. Adam and Eliza flinched as one, and his hand came to the small of her back. In trod a young serving girl holding a tray of food. She caught sight of Eliza and Adam standing close, and she halted.
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