by Gwynn White
So he hadn’t slept with his betrothed. Why the change? And why did it please her so much?
“But we’ll leave here that way.”
“We’re going to Taliesin?” She nearly threw her head back and groaned. She’d just escaped the princess, and now she had to make awkward conversation with her?
He took the stairs ahead of her. “For breakfast. She wants to meet the new Soul-Reaper.”
“The new Soul-Reaper has stood at her shoulder for the last ten years,” she said dryly, well aware that Taliesin wouldn’t recognize her if the princess tripped over her. She groaned inwardly; this Fae was betrothed to the princess. Together, they would one day be her king and queen. Perhaps it was best to keep her thoughts to herself.
Dominik chuckled. “You’ve got the measure of her, I see. But endure it well, and you’ll be home free until the next trial of your limited patience.”
Despite everything, a smile tugged that he’d summed her up so well. She just hoped he didn’t plan to use the information to manipulate her. “And what would that trial be?”
“Your introduction to Yatres.”
She stopped on the stairs and crossed her arms over her chest. “What introduction to Yatres?”
Dominik slouched against the wall, showing no signs of irritation at her obvious procrastination.
She had to like him for it.
“Each time the Sword chooses a new Soul-Reaper, the king holds a parade through Upper Whaivag to introduce her to the city.”
Her nose curled. “Ayda has been dead for less than a day, and they’re already celebrating?”
Pain flickered in his eyes. “We celebrated a battle victory with a ball. No one seemed too worried about those dead.”
“That’s different, and you know it. The Nyhans attacked us. And our Fae died willingly so we could all prosper.”
He waved a self-deprecating hand. “I agree, it’s deplorable. But it’s also tradition. And maybe a change of scenery might help you feel the Bone calling. If it’s still in the city, that is.”
She grimaced, hearing what he didn’t say. The Bone could be anywhere in Yatres by now, or heading over the border into a neighboring kingdom. Like Nyhan.
She carried on up the stairs. “How will I hear it calling? It can’t speak into my head, too, can it?” She couldn’t handle two madmen chatting away.
“Madman? You make me laugh, Nasty Reaper.”
“From what I’ve been told, it’s more of a pull. But I only know what Ayda shared, and I always took what she said with a pinch of salt.”
“The last mistress, my Bright Reaper, was almost as secretive as you, Nasty Reaper. I wonder what secrets you’ll have to spill to find our Bone.”
Breath hissed between her teeth. How many of her secrets could Soul-Forged see? How much of her mind could he delve into? Was nothing safe or private anymore?
“Nothing is sacred. I see it all. I see your father with his anger. I see your mother cowering. I see your sister on the streets. Everything you hide, everything you hate—”
Shut up, you little prick. She ignored Soul-Forged’s raucous laughter.
The prickle of iron on her skin announced the landing to the Bone room. She nodded at Finch and Ren standing at attention at the doorway to the depressingly empty room. Even though she knew them—hell, they’d been drinking and playing cards with her just a week ago—they dipped their heads at her. She considered swearing at them, but instead jerked away so they wouldn’t see her frown of sadness.
Dominik stopped at the spot where Ryo and Lane had been murdered. His seemingly constant wicked grin disappeared. “First we have to figure out where the arrows came from.”
She pivoted, studying the white marble walls and the narrow gap between the door, where Ryo and Lane had stood, and the winding stairwell. Sunlight broke through the clouds and glinted through the windows. Not a possible entry point.
She shook her head, sending a stray lock of dark hair falling into her face. Even if the killer could fly to reach the top of the tower, the tall, narrow slits would have been impossible to squeeze through.
“The killer could only have come from the stairs. Ryo and Lane weren’t idiots.” She glanced at Finch, expecting to see a nod of agreement. Nothing. He could have been a marble block in the wall. She sighed. “Ryo even had a bit of magic.” She crouched down where his body had lain, trying to decipher secrets from the cold ground.
“There were no footprints in the blood.” Dominik hitched the sword at his side and knelt beside her although there was nothing to see. “What does that tell us?”
She gnawed her ragged cheek. “Two options. Someone used magic to catch them off guard. Maybe an Image-Meddler.” Her thoughts slid to Izanna. “It wouldn’t be difficult to hide the bow and arrow in a glamour.”
“It’s possible. Last night, when we first came here, I caught a whiff of an Image-Meddler in the chaos. It wasn’t overwhelming, but then with all the other emotions leaching in the air, it was hard to pinpoint anything.”
She sniffed. Even though she couldn’t detect magic the way a mage did, her nose worked on mundane things like sweat. Any scent the killer had left was gone, drowned under the smell of guards, the king, Dominik, and her. She scowled and cursed at herself for not thinking of it the previous evening.
Dominik chuckled. “I already tried that last night after leaving you in your apartment, but it was too late. Things get a little complicated when the world falls into chaos.”
“Can you still smell an Image-Meddler? Izanna said she was meeting with Ayda yesterday afternoon.”
“I know. My father spirited her in.” He sniffed the air like a dog. “It’s here. But magic tends to linger, so it could have been something Izanna did when she and Ayda were together. Izanna will be at breakfast, so we can ask her.”
“That’s one option.” She spoke to Soul-Forged. Did Izanna use her magic when she came here yesterday?
“Party tricks! Lots of party tricks. They made her laugh.” Soul-Forged sneered. “Never seen her smile before. She’s usually always so sour.”
And you keep telling me how nice Ayda was compared to me. You even call her Bright Reaper.
A wild laugh. “Everyone is nice compared to the Nasty Reaper.”
Gee, thanks.
“Well?” Dominik watched her expectantly. He seemed to know when she and Soul-Forged were having their little chats.
It made her wonder what her face was doing when she turned inward, and—worse—how long it would be before Fae started whispering about her sanity. She sighed her dismay away. “He says Izanna was here doing ‘party tricks,’ whatever those are. Apparently Ayda found them amusing.”
He squinted at her. “You sure about that? Ayda didn’t strike me as someone to be impressed by a mere Image-Meddler.”
She cracked a smile. “You mean after seeing you manipulate magic, everything else pales into insignificance?”
“You said it, not me.” He stood and offered her a hand to pull her up. “At least we know Izanna was here while Ayda was alive.”
She let him heave her to her feet.
Less than a foot away, he eyed her cannily. “Any other ideas?”
“That whoever killed them is a coward who likes killing from afar—” Her breath caught as she recalled Dominik’s rocks raining down on the Nyhans.
“Aha!” Soul-Forged’s voice made her jump. “The mistress is smart! The mistress is thoughtful.”
She gazed into Dominik’s shard-like eyes. “You could have done it.”
“But I didn’t,” he said mildly, with no other reaction. He sprang up and strode to the iron door, then knelt and examined the lock. “Messing about with locks is fun. I’d even consider myself an expert. In my not-so-humble opinion, this hasn’t been tampered with.”
He could enjoy something so mundane and still be arrogant about it? She suppressed a smile. “Could magic have opened it?”
His head canted. “You want to think about that a b
it, Reaper?”
She was about to snap at him for using at least part of her title—he’d promised not to—when understanding dawned. Iron was impervious to magic. She blushed. “I thought only Ayda and the king had keys.”
“They do. Or did.” That now familiar darkness when Ayda was mentioned claimed his face.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
Surprise brightened in his eyes. “Thank you. Ayda and I— Well, perhaps you would understand if I say we were like you and Dain. There was never any pressure.” He turned back to the lock. “The king wears his key around his neck. Ayda kept hers in her pocket.”
“It was in my room last night.”
“Elion told me it was found in its usual place when her body was moved.” He looked at her with a strange gleam. “Keys are the easiest things in the world to copy. Hence my clockwork invention on the little door. But they’d have to know the key well to get a true likeness made.”
She clicked her tongue. “But the case holding the Bone was broken—smashed. If they had a key, why do that?”
He stood, brushing dust from his knees. “Maybe to make a statement.” His nose twitched as he walked into the room.
She waited with her arms crossed for him to report his findings. Confused by his heart-wrenching care for Ayda, his almost unique and extremely powerful magic and—to her—his obvious motive, she risked speaking to Soul-Forged. Could he be the thief?
“The Fae has the world at his fingertips, but nothing he wants.” His voice slithered through her mind. “Sad, sad little Fae.”
Could you be a little more specific? she growled. Could it be him?
“Nasty Reaper, they could all be the thief.” Soul-Forged seemed to hesitate, weighing his options. “The Fae and the dragon and the giant. The thief craves what the other has.”
I thought we’d spoken about your useless riddles.
Soul-Forged broke into off-key singing. It stopped as abruptly as it started. “If Mistress stops hissing and snarling at me, I might start showing her the things I see.”
You make me sound like a cat.
“A mangy one with fleas and fish breath.” More crazy laughter.
She spoke to Dominik. “Trade you a Sword for whatever your nose is telling you.”
He grinned at her. “You would be worse off on the deal.”
She stepped into the room to join him. “You’re getting nothing?”
He rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw—he hadn’t bothered shaving today. “Despite your accusations, there are several types of magic that could have killed the guards. Getting ahold of a key to copy would, I admit, have been trickier. Still, I suppose someone with long fingers could have lifted it from Ayda’s pocket. But it’s breaking through the wards that’s really puzzling me.” His boots echoed across the flagstones as he paced the length of the room. “The wards were impervious to everything but the Bone and the Sword. Yet—”
She waited while he paced. When he didn’t follow up, she asked, “Do I have to drag this out of you?”
He shot her a racy look. “Nothing would give me more pleasure.”
Heat pooled in her core. Her eyes widened. Bedroom thoughts about this Fae would not help her find the Bone. “I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.”
“Pity.” The sheath holding the sword on his back rasped against the marble blocks as he slouched against the wall. “Reaper, only a Ward-Snapper could have done this. But they are so rare… The last one in Yatres died about eighty years ago. If there were more, they’d be registered.”
King Kaist kept a register of every mage in the kingdom, partly to control them, but also to call on them in times of war.
She slouched against the wall opposite him. It was time to humble herself and own up to some truths if she was to get anywhere with this investigation. “I admit, I know nothing about wards. Or magic. How do they even work?”
She braced herself for the ridicule mages often heaped on their non-magical kin.
The smile he shot her was so gentle it was utterly foreign on his hard features. “You’ll learn. The Sword and the Bone will make sure of that. But until then… I’m happy to help.” He waved at the doorway. “Wards are nothing more than a magical block. They aren’t sentient, but they can be spelled to recognize things. In this case, Soul-Forged, Ayda, and King Kaist. But Ayda and the king can”—he grimaced—“could only enter if they carried the Sword.”
Why did he have to be so helpful? It made suspecting him that much more complicated.
Unless that was his plan.
She straightened her back, refusing to let him lull her into a familiarity he could exploit. “They were both in the ballroom when the Bone was stolen.”
He nodded glumly. “I know. That’s what makes this so bloody hard to figure.” His hand dipped into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch. He clicked it open and glanced at the time. “Breakfast. The Bone forbid that we be late.”
She sighed as he started for the door. “Do I really have to?”
“’Fraid so. You’ve spent enough time with our princess to know that she doesn’t cope well with being thwarted.”
She didn’t reply.
“At least Elion will be there,” he said cheerily.
Determined to use his secret door, she made for the stairs to her apartment. “Are you close to Elion?”
“As close as brothers could be. He gets a raw deal from our father.” He spoke softly. “All my siblings do.”
His warm breath ruffled the hair on the back of her neck. She shivered and took the next step at a leap to put some distance between his near perfection and her growing desire.
“Well, you are the brightest and the best in the Dakar clan.”
“So they tell me. And believe me, all that sparkle has come at a price.”
He opened the door to her chamber. Aware of the guards, she waited until he had closed it behind them before saying, “Families are quick to exact.”
He walked to the tapestry. “Your father runs the haberdashery on Crown Street?”
She skidded to a stop. “Just how much do you know about me?”
“You made a mark in the Royal Guard. I’m sure I’m not the only one to notice.” He flicked the tapestry aside and crouched before his clockwork contraption. “Now do you want to see how this works, or not?”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or to run old Soul-Forged through you. You could have found all this out to manipulate me—after you kidnap me and my Sword.”
Soul-Forged cackled. “Oooh, do it! Do it! I do so enjoy the sound of Fae squishing.”
She grimaced.
Dominik laughed. “I’m assuming Soul-Forged has an opinion on that. And trust me, if I wanted to kidnap you, it would already have happened.”
He flicked his fingers. The drapes on the leaded window shredded. Before she could think to move, they had transformed into coir ropes and had bound her legs together. She toppled over and folded onto the floor.
He added, “I’ll stop there. But I think you get the message.”
She scowled at him as she fumbled to untie the tight knots binding her. Another flick from him, and the bonds fell away. They turned back into curtains, fluttered to the window and rehung themselves on the rod.
She rolled her eyes. “Bloody show-off.”
Face burning, she leapt up and swaggered over to the low door. She crouched down next to him. The hair on his arm brushed hers. This time, she didn’t pull away.
Neither did he.
“Show me your toy.” Her voice came out huskier than she’d intended.
Eyes dancing, he glanced at her. “Any time you like, Reaper. You just say the word, and I’m all yours.”
She shoved her elbow into his ribs. “I don’t sleep with other women’s Fae.”
All laughter vanished from his face. “You know she’s not my choice.”
“I also know you didn’t say no.”
“Which is why you’re convinced I lifted Ayda�
�s key from her pocket, killed four of your friends, one of my friends, broke some wards, and stole the Bone, so I can use it—and you—to help me bump off the king. I suppose in this vision of yours, Taliesin and I sail off into the sunset together in wedded bliss.”
“Sounds perfectly logical to me. Now, are you going to open this contraption of yours or not?”
He studied her face for a long moment, then flicked the cogs with long fingers. “Six forward clicks, two backward, and another four forward.”
Nothing happened.
“And now?”
“A dash of magic.” He didn’t move a muscle, but the clockwork whirled and then stilled. The door swung open on silent hinges.
It was time to meet Taliesin.
10
Caeda made sure she was hidden in Dominik’s shadow as he swept open another tapestry and stepped into another room. The air was heavy with the rich aroma of coffee and hot chocolate. Her stomach growled with hunger. She patted it to keep it quiet.
“Nasty Reaper is sweating on Soul-Forged. She should have left her cloak in her chamber.”
“Stop whining.”
But she couldn’t deny the sweat trickling down her back. A combination of heat and nerves. Instead of just being a lifeless piece of furniture in Taliesin’s world—useful but not spoken to—she was now expected to socialize like a noble. She fell back on the trusted skills of her guard training and scanned the room.
A round alcove, it was intimate and elegant, if somewhat stifling thanks to an enormous fire burning in the grate. A harp stood next to an open writing bureau cluttered with piles of sheet music.
A card table with four chairs suggested the princess’s other diversion. Cards spread across it in a half-finished game of solitaire. Weak sunlight spilled through the leaded windows onto a low table between the sofas. Pots of coffee and hot chocolate, platters of pastries, cold meats, and cheeses crammed on it made her mouth water.
At the widest expanse of the circle, through a blue-and-gold lacquered screen, she caught a glimpse of Taliesin’s enormous bed. This was clearly the princess’s private haunt. Away from prying eyes, it seemed the perfect place to escape.