Page 117 of The Sorrow of Shadows

Right as the male finds my first dagger, a throat clears.

“Claudia, Jaret, that’s enough. The General can keep her daggers. We both know she’s quite capable of killing me even without them.” The mercenary prince’s sweet lilt rolls through the room.

The male and female—Jaret and Claudia, apparently—immediately cease their search and back away from me.

“You are dismissed.” The command is clear. Jaret and Claudia nod their heads in understanding and back out of the room, the door locking again behind them.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says, his melodic voice rolling over my skin. I keep my place against the wall, letting him approach me. He prowls closer, like a feline stalking its prey. But I am no prey.

“Hello, Cillian,” I reply as he finally reaches me. The male leans over me, his forearm on the wall above my head, leaving hisface mere inches from mine. This close, I can see the deep teal of his eyes and the freckles that line his cheeks. Copper ringlets hang loose around his face, and most of his hair is pulled back into a knot on the top of his head.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, little General?” he asks, his tone somehow both playful and condescending. Cillian had once been a member of the Rimorian army before my time as General. We had grown close as we trained together and eventually found ourselves frequenting the other’s bed. That was until I discovered he was the son of the most notorious mercenary in our kingdom.

He had been planted in the army as a spy, but growing attached to me was never part of the plan. I wouldn’t call what we had love, but more of a heated companionship. Part of me had always wondered if it could have been more if we were different people or had met under different circumstances. Until Aurelius strolled back into my life, that is. It was becoming harder and harder to deny the feelings stirring in my chest every time I looked at the broody male that had claimed me as his.

Once I had learned Cillian’s true identity, I had made the decision to spare his life. Elijah had insisted it was because I had cared for him, but I knew it was really because Cillian had cared for me. I knew he would one day take his father’s spot as the self-proclaimed mercenary king. If he didn’t, someone else would, and I figured the devil you know is better than the one you don’t. Cillian owed me his life; a fact I rarely let him forget.

His father was long dead now, and Cillian ruled as King of the Midnight Brotherhood. They were assassins and swords for hire but somehow had their own twisted morals. I had maintained contact with him through the years, occasionally still winding up in his bed when the loneliness was too much for one of us to bear. I suspected he still harbored feelings for me, but we both knew where that would lead. Which is why we never spoke about it. My heart was not his.

“I’m not here for pleasure, Cillian. I need details on a slaughter the brotherhood was behind,” I finally say.

He tilts his head in question at me, eyes running over my face and assessing me.

“You know that’s not how this works, sweetheart,” he tuts. One of his fingers traces my jaw, tilting my face up to look at him. Cillian is tall—taller than even Aurelius—and dwarfs me in every way. While it may look like a sensual position, this is very clearly a power play to me. Though I hold power over him through his life-debt, he has information I need, and he’s going to make me work for it.

Doing my best to brush him off, I say, “There was a family of five that we found slaughtered in their beds. Surname was Howard, lived in the eastern part of the capital—small house with a red door. Ring any bells?”

“If you brought no coin, no secrets to barter, and you don’t want to cash in that life-debt you’ve been holding over my head...I could arrange a morepleasurableexchange for the both of us.” I don’t miss the insinuation or him ignoring my question all together.

My shadows slither along the floor, trailing up his toned legs until they reach his hips. His eyes sparkle in excitement, and I know I have him distracted enough. With the help of my shadows, I flip our positions, slamming him into the wall. I have a dagger pressed against his throat, and a wicked smile creeps across his face. If this were anyone else, they’d be afraid. But there was a reason they called him king of the mercenaries. I glance down at the dagger he has pressed against my throat. But much like him, I’m not afraid.

He winks at me and says, “If you’re trying to turn me off, you’ll need a different tactic.”

“I told you, I’m not here for pleasure, Cillian. This is official business, and it’s important. I’ll pay you if I find the information worth it.”

“Yet, that’s never stopped you from taking pleasure from me before,” he hums.

“My pleasure isn’t yours to have anymore,” I say evenly. It’s not meant to be cruel, but I need to get the point across.

I catch the way his lips fall just slightly at the corners of his mouth. “Is it possible the little general has found her match?” His words are laced with just the smallest bit of bitterness.

“I have found the one that makes my shadows sing and my heart beat faster.” It’s the first time I’ve confessed something of this magnitude out loud.

“You used to sing for me, sweetheart. I had hoped that one day you would again.” His voice is soft as reality hits him that it never will.

“Don’t go there, Cillian,” I beg him. I had put the thought of us together to bed years ago. It was time now that he did the same.

“You deserve all the happiness, Breyla. I’m glad someone was able to get through that thick wall you keep built around your heart. Too bad it wasn’t me. Whoever he is, he’s one lucky male.” He drops the dagger from my throat and sheathes it at his side.

“Thank you,” I say and smile softly at him. “You deserve the same. I know one day you’ll find her.” I lower the dagger from his throat, stashing it back in my thigh holster.

“Yes, well, you should know the fee for information has just gone up. Now what would you like to know?” He chuckles at the glare I shoot his way.

“Bastard,” I mumble before taking a step back from him.

“Most definitely,” he says with a smirk.

“The Howard family,” I start, trying to get back on track. “What do you know about that hit?”

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