Page 24 of Claimed By Night

“Maybe if you be into that sort o’ thing, but as a sprite, I ain’t,” I tell ‘im.

“Carry on.”

“Righty-oh. Soze I be washin’ the girl, an’ all o’ a sudden, wings pop out her back! Like real, true angel wings an’ I thinks I’m gonna shit myself real hard!”

Cambion stops walkin’. I stop flyin’ an’ decide to try floatin’ down to the shoulder that don’t got a big bird on it ‘cause I’m real tired. But once I do, Cambion do the same thing Dragan did an’ dusts me off. But he’s a lil nicer ‘bout it.

“The angel has her wings?” Cambion demand as he face Dragan, an’ his pomp ain’t nowheres to be found.

“I told you I needed your help.”

“Do you understand what this means?” Cambion ask.

“Yes, Cambion, I do,” Dragan growl. “That’s why I’m here.” Then, he take a deep breath. “We’re running out of time, so help the angel and we’ll discuss the particulars after.”

“You want the rest o’ my story or what?” I ask the elf king.

“I’ve heard quite enough,” he answer, but he still glarin’ at Dragan an’ Dragan glarin’ right back at ‘im.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CAMBION

Geldingstock

Fae Realm

I’m fuming.

What the fuck is Dragan thinking, coming here and bringing this angel with him? Doesn’t he remember what fucking Variant did to Baron? Right in front of us, no less? We’re lucky to still be alive.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself as I think back to the day the four of us signed the pact and took the oath. We were each given immortality. The only way we could die was if one of us bore the title of murderer—something Variant made plainly clear he was willing to do when he did it to Baron.

I hope he doesn’t track Dragan here, but if he does, I’ll have to turn the whole lot of them over to Variant, pretending I had nothing to do with any of this.

While I am living a life of banishment, it’s really not so bad. I have everything I could want. As far as prisons go, mine could be much worse. It could be what Dragan’s facing, and has been for the last one hundred years already.

I lead my unwanted guests through the garden in front of my stately home and open the door, granting them entry.

Trym,I address the owl riding on my shoulder through our telepathic connection. I speak to him in the old language ofElvish. Trym is my animal familiar.Keep sentry and scout the perimeter of Geldingstock for strangers. Should you see any, alert me immediately.

Trym alights and flies off overhead, eager, as always, to do my bidding.

Once I follow the rest of the party into my home, I watch them pause to take in their surroundings. Thesprite immediately appears impressed with my ornately carved wooden furniture, expensive rugs, and priceless art. Dragan narrows his eyes as he takes in the splendor surrounding him, while Thoradin appears simply bored.

“Nice to know you’ve been living the life,” Dragan grumbles as I steal a few more glances at the angel slung over his shoulder. She’s certainly beautiful; no one can argue that. Perhaps once I return her to her health, she will choose to repay me by favoring me with her delectable body.

“Banishment isn’t to me what it is to you,” I respond. “Bring her upstairs.”

Dragan doesn’t say anything but follows me through the foyer, the living room, and into the hall. From there, we voyage up two flights of stairs. Then, the three of them trail after me down another hallway until we reach the last room and I throw the door open wide.

“Put her on my bed,” I command.

Again, Dragan says nothing but does as he’s instructed, placing the girl on top of the green silken linens. She sinks into the billowing, feather duvet and pillows surrounding her. The sheet Dragan must have stolen from Anona starts to fall off her shoulders, and I notice how careful the gargoyle is about pulling it back up to her chin. I find the whole display rather odd. Dragan is not, by rule, gentle.

He’s quite the opposite. Or so he used to be.

“She has no clothing, so you’ll have to provide for her,” he says gruffly.

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