“Where do you study?” I unleashed a tendril of persuasion, just enough to urge her to answer my question.

“I'm not a student here,” she said. “I'm in the city to audition for the High Lord's company.”

“An honorable endeavor. I'm certain you'll have your pick of patrons among the Houses who support human artists.”

“I work to be worthy of it.”

Her quiet dignity softened some of my anger at this twist of fate. If I must claim a human bonded, I could have been given far, far worse than a soft-spoken female with enough self-possession to hold her own among Fae. To be here she must also claim her share of strength and ambition, qualities she’d require in abundance.

“And your name, little mortal?” This time, when I reached out for her mind, it was deliberate.

. . .such a supposedly innocent question. His eyes are patient, but that feels like a polite facade. What does he want with me? Classically sculpted features—too bad he's not a dancer. Beauty doesn't mean goodness, though. Dark hair, stern mouth—why do I feel so at ease? I know better. Too much authority. Too much strength. There's no way he's human. Why is hestaring?—

The pulse fluttering in her throat increased. I forced myself to look away and retreat from her mind, saliva flooding my mouth as if my body was preparing itself for a feast.

Because it was, and I wasn’t inclined to deny it any longer.

She staggered back a step and I closed the distance, my hands around her upper arms to hold her steady. She looked up at me, striking a blow with luminous dark eyes.

“Hasannah,” she said after a long pause. She lifted her hands as if to push me away, then lowered them slowly, her posture going pliant.

I understood the silent plea. Reluctant, I released her, for now, and stepped back. Her breathing slowed—a touch.

“An almost Fae name. Lovely.”

She moved away to dance. A few Fae paused to watch her, and I stiffened.

Males.

I wouldn't tolerate them near her, looking at her. They would show proper respect or they would die, and though I was considered one of the more mild tempered among my family, I looked forward to causing another creature pain.

Constin shifted, placing a restraining hand on my shoulder and pitched his voice low.

“Easy, luudthen. Take a breath. If you shed blood here, you'll announce her existence in the worst way possible. She's safe. I would give my life before she came to any harm.”

Fae were not possessive with anyone but their bonded mates, and the anger rushing up through me now was nothingbutpossessiveness.

On the heels of my Housesworn’s promise, calm reasserted itself. He’d always had a beguiling voice, and I didn't fight it.

But I turned my head and pinned a male who had stepped too close to Hasannah with my gaze. Curled my upper lip and allowed my power to rise enough for threat. He jerked, bowed his head, and hurried away.

It was late when my mortal finished, bending to lift the bag in which coins and banknotes rested.

My mother and sister had made support of dancers and artists part of the fashion among the High Fae in Casakraine, but anything Hasannah needed or desired would come from my hand going forward.

The consort of the city Heir would not dance for food and shelter—for anyone but me. There wouldbeno patron other than me.

“It's late,” I said as she shouldered her bag and gave me a sidelong look. “You shouldn’t be out unescorted at this time of night.”

She widened her eyes at me, a flash of amused dismissal across her features. “I don't have much choice. Anyway. . .goodbye.”

Goodbye? Oh, you foolish mortal girl. You should know better than to issue challenge.

I exerted a brief flash of will, halting her, and stepped close enough to lower my mouth to her ear, but not close enough to touch her again without permission. She was human—permission would take no more than a whispered request.

“Allow me to escort you home,” I murmured, listening to the increase in the flow of her blood, the thrumming pace of her heart as she tensed, her breath hitching. “You’ve caught my interest, little mortal.”

I inhaled her scent and locked my jaw against the clench, the dizziness, of desire. And desire was a weak word.