Page 1 of Dance with the Dragon Duke

Chapter 1

Tomorrow

Tomorrow contemplated her path to revenge. She perched at the bar in the parlor of the finest brothel in River Row, numbly clutching a glass of ale between her fingers. A loose wave of short, ashen hair slipped over her face. She blew the wispy strands off her brow, then shoved them behind the tall point of her ear, digging deep to find her courage.

Turning on her stool, Tomorrow situated herself so she could better spy on her target, the next step in her plan: Darko Yaga, the dragon Duke of Mount Rasika. He rented the room down the hall from hers. There was only one reason someone might choose to stay at that particular house of ill repute if it wasn’t the company of a courtesan they sought.

Only the desperate in need of safety kept rooms long-term at the Gilded Boot. The establishment was under the diligent protection of the Bloody Queen of Night herself. Assassins and scoundrels did their murdering and robbing elsewhere, or—so it was said—the legendary queen came for them.

“He’s not as scary as he looks,” Susan, the madam of the brothel, assured her.

After Susan had brought her the drink, Tomorrow had forgotten she was there, lingering near her shoulder. The madam seemed to have taken a liking to her since she’d arrived three weeks ago. Tomorrow appreciated her and her businesspartner’s kindness. She felt safe in their house in a way she hadn’t in a long while.

Susan nudged her arm encouragingly. She wore her honey-colored hair in a braided knot, showing off her slender neck. Her pale throat sported a colorful love-bite. “Just go and talk to him.”

Desperate for a kind ear, Tomorrow had shared her plight in detail with the madam, a woman accustomed to keeping secrets. Susan had recommended she approach the duke. The mortal madam seemed wise beyond her years, and she clearly had great business acumen. She was probably right about the man, but . . . gods, just glancing at him made Tomorrow’s hands clammy.

The Unseelie lord shrank the furniture around him. He sat at a corner table, nursing an ale, and his boulder-like fist made the glass look like he’d stolen it from a child. As tall as he was, she wondered how he fit through most doorways. Scaled black horns curled from the crown of his head. Bulky muscles filled out his evening jacket.

Tomorrow scratched at the top of her own horn-less head. Nothing about her person inspired fear or respect. She played pretend at nobility in a borrowed blouse. Layered skirts hung off her slight hips. The petticoats hadn’t been tailored to fit, and they were too long for her Seelie frame. The hem dragged on the ground when she walked.

In contrast, the word “intimidating” fell short as a description for the duke. He had all the markings of the Unseelie—immortals from the southern provinces, descendants of dragons and trickster fae. A powerful tail draped down the side of his chair to the floor, curling around his feet. Like a serpent, it was scaled in leathery black plates. If she examined his sculpted attributes individually—the square jaw, the rugged features, the thick bronze hair—she’d call him handsome, but all of that together made him too frightening.

Striking was a more accurate word.

Susan nudged her. “I promise he won’t bite.”

Tomorrow swallowed, thinking of the extra sharp teeth around his incisors. She’d spotted them the few times she’d been spying while he took a meal.

She didn’t need any help being overwhelmed around the gentry. As the illegitimate daughter of a recently deceased duke, she’d grown accustomed to feeling like she didn’t add up in their presence. Darko looked like he could crush her bones into pudding between two of his brawny fingers. The combination was enough to make Tomorrow’s lungs hitch. Her next breath escaped as a wheeze.

“A few days ago,” Susan said soothingly, “one of my workers found herself in a spot of trouble. A regular of hers was trying to overstay his welcome, you see. I’ve got people for just that, but we didn’t have to call them. Darko overheard the patron fussing in the hall and hauled him off, easy as can be. The duke claimed he did it to stop all the noise, but I think he can’t stand leaving anyone in distress. And that’s exactly the sort of person I’d want to partner with if I had a plot to carry out and needed protecting.”

Tomorrow blew out a breath. “All right. If you say he’s the best person for my scheme, I’ll go and talk to him.”

“I say he’s your best bet.” Susan’s blue eyes sparkled in the gaslights, as did the diamonds dangling from her rounded ears. “He’s who I’d ask, at any rate. Considering what you have in mind, it’s a nice bonus that he’s handsome, eh?”

Tomorrow sighed. She’d have preferred him to be less attractive, in fact. The cramp building in her stomach might have loosened then.

But what was the worst that could happen? He could say no. She’d have no one else. Her cousins—the Freest family—would try to kill her again.

She’d die.

Tomorrow shivered despite the growing heat in the parlor from the steady stream of patrons and the blazing fire in the hearth. She couldn’t wait around for her cousins to kill her. Time was not a luxury she had a lot of, and she was done with being a coward. She took one last swallow of ale, let the alcohol warm her bones, then rose from her stool.

“Attagirl,” Susan said encouragingly.

Tomorrow ambled across the room, pumping a confidence into her strides that she didn’t feel in her heart. The parlor would soon be stuffed to the brim with regulars, making a conversation nearly impossible. It was now or never.

She halted beside the duke. He was even bigger up close. Her feet shuffled beneath her. Averting her eyes, she peered at the tops of her boots peeking out from the hem of her oversized skirts.

“Your Grace?” Her voice broke as she said it, and her cheeks burned.

“Shove off,” the duke huffed.

And shove off she did, like a scared mouse racing back into its hole.

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