Page 60 of Hidden

“Good, because despite your family and magic and all the rest, I rather like you.”

The words were lightly mocking, but they held genuine warmth. His touch lingered, comforting her when she had nothing else to cling to. She balanced on her toes to touch his lips with hers. His palm, large and rough with calluses, cupped the back of her head. Body heat radiated through the taut fabric of his shirt. So tempting. So inviting. Lila leaned into him, exploring the hard terrain of his chest with her palms.

She opened her mouth to his, exploring his unfamiliar taste. He was fundamentally different from her—entirely alien, according to most fae—and yet they shared common ground. Both of them were rebels.

Both wanted to survive. His kiss all but promised it, pushing the darkness from her mood. A light, sweet sensation threaded through her as he pulled her close.

Allies. Maybe friends. Certainly forbidden fruit.

The moment of peace couldn’t last. Breaking the kiss, Lila stepped back. She was short of breath, her mouth tingling as if he’d bruised it. Heat lurked in Rafe’s gaze, as if he knew they’d pick this up at a later time.

“I must get ready for tonight,” she said, dread already seeping back into her soul. “I need to think.”

He caught her hand. “Why did you ask about the Magician?”

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but then stopped herself. All she had were suspicions, and Rafe was bent on vengeance. She had to be careful. “There are a lot of fae coming to the banquet. He might be there. I don’t know anything for certain.”

“Will you be in danger?” A faint growl rumbled beneath the words.

She winced. “I don’t want to think about that answer.”

He took her chin in his hand, tilting her head until their gazes locked. “Remember you’re not alone. If you’re hunting the Magician, you’ve got friends you haven’t met.”

CHAPTER 20

Dusk stole into the way station ballroom. It began in the blue shadows among the fronds and vines of Lila’s decorations and slowly crept across the room. Candles bloomed and flickered along the tabletops and tiny stars scattered the ceiling and nestled like brilliant blossoms among the greenery.

Rafe watched the fading daylight from one side of the room, where he stood shoulder to shoulder with a long line of fae servants. He had been issued the same gray uniform and stood in the same alert posture, his chin high and his eyes straight ahead. The one difference between him and his fellow servants was the silver bracelets. Though their magic held, with his shirtsleeves acting as a buffer, they no longer burned his skin. The lack of pain had made the head server’s endless instructions much easier to follow.

“Do you know what you’re supposed to do?” the fae next to him asked without looking around.

The male was shorter than Rafe, his hair a few shades darker than Lila’s. He had a pointed nose and a curved lip that made him appear to be always smiling. The servants were less uniformly perfect than the fae nobles—which made them easier to pick out of the crowd. This one had been part of the pair who had escorted him from the guest room to his cell earlier that day. Rafe had given him no trouble. In return, the fae had been reasonably polite.

“I understand the assignment—more or less,” Rafe replied. “Play waiter. Don’t spill on the guest of honor.” He wasn’t worried—he’d watch the others and copy what they did. Years in the Silent Wolves had exposed him to many environments, including those where salad forks mattered.

They stopped talking as the cross-looking head server stalked by, checking every uniform. He paused before Rafe, giving him a long look, but could find nothing wrong with Rafe’s dress or posture. He moved on with a sniff, his short indigo cape swirling.

“Why am I here?” Rafe muttered.

“Tradition,” the fae replied. “Make the prisoners of note serve guests. It’s an old school power play to show off the host’s standing.”

“In other words, I’m an exhibit.”

“Exactly,” the fae replied, keeping his voice low so that the official in charge of the servants did not hear. “If the lady of the house is putting on that much of a show, tread carefully. When the courtiers start posturing, they lose common sense. It’s like dancing around a roomful of rabid squirrels.”

Rafe shot him a glance. “That’s descriptive.”

“That is life in the service of the great and good. I am Asus.”

“Rafe.”

“I know. I’ve been instructed to see that you put on an adequate show. Grovel slightly, but not too much. They like their enemies humbled but still worthy of conquest.”

“We aim to please?” Rafe replied.

The fae’s mouth quirked at one corner, but he didn’t say more. At that moment, the last ray of sunlight faded, leaving the room in spangled night. The muted light played over the long tables loaded with silver and gold dishes, touching the rims of goblets studded with rainbow gems. Then, like embers flaring to life, the candle flames brightened until the space was suffused in a warm glow.

As if someone had opened an oven door, the scent of savory spices flooded into the room, making Rafe’s mouth water. Others must have smelled it too, as a shuffle went down the ranks, but no one dared to speak. An expectant silence hung in the air, broken only by the creak of the main doors swinging open.

---