Page 25 of Enthralled

“All right,” I say, turning once more to Ilusine, who observes me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Let’s be off.”

The city is very dark this time of night. Even the gas lamps have burned down low and struggle to pierce the gloom and fog. Ilusine curses softly as we make our way from Clamor Street, picking our way through the shadows.

“Are you all right?” I whisper.

“A strange blindness seems to have come over me.”

“Blindness?”

“Yes. Everything is so obscure. So indistinct.”

For a moment I don’t understand. Then, biting back a little chuckle, I reply, “That’s simply how it is in the dark.”

“Not for fae it’s not.”

The superiority of her tone sets my teeth on edge, but I hold onto her elbow, supporting her as we progress. The whole circumstance would be comical were it not so terrifying: me, pregnant, trying not to throw up that bun she made me eat; her, fragile as a newborn fawn, bandaged and tottering and weak. What a picture we must make! Hardly the adventurers suited for such a quest.

“Tell me about this Den of Vipers,” she asks after a long silence.

“I don’t know much,” I admit. “It’s a gathering place for disreputable souls, where the desperate may explore their most private, most hidden vices.”

Ilusine nods. “Every city has its festering underbelly. But what made you think this one brushes up against Eledria?”

I describe to her what I saw the last time I went to fetch Oscar from the Den of Vipers: the half-crazed men and women, their eyes bright green withrothiliomlight, dancing in strange patterns and rhythms; the images of trees and flashing sunlight piercing through the reality of the close, smoke-filled space. The mania. The madness. The music.

“Yes,” Ilusine admits at last, grudgingly. “That does sound like a fae gathering to me. Like the old Dancing Rings where my kind once lured yours in and made pets of them back in the ages before the Pledge. But what,” she adds, stumbling a little and tightening her grip on my arm, “makes you think one of the Blessed Beldames might be close by?”

An image flashes through my mind—a long dark hallway, a simple door. A globe lantern suspended in the darkness overhead. When I first saw it, an almost overwhelming curiosity had filled me. I would have forgotten Oscar entirely and marched straight through had Castien not been on hand to restrain me. Even now just thinking about it, a strange prickling comes over my skin, an inexplicable urge to know what lies on the other side of that door. “Just a feeling,” I say quietly.

Ilusine snorts. “You humans and yourfeelings.”

With that we both lapse into silence as we make our way through the city streets. Few people are out at this hour. Those who are make a point to avert their gazes. We are a disreputable looking pair, hobbling along together in our ratty garments, heads down against the cold gusts of wind that blow debris off the cobblestones and into our faces. The trek is longer than I remembered. I hear distant bells tolling midnight long before we reach the warehouse district.

We stop at the top of the street underneath a streetlamp, taking shelter in its wavery light. The way before us is much darker than the way we’ve come. Rather than streetlamps, torches set in rickety sockets burn here and there, giving the whole street a sinister appearance. Ilusine sniffs the air and curses again. “The atmosphere of this world obscures my senses,” she says, “but I’m almost certain I can detect a whiff of Eledria.”

I nod. We’ve come this far; what choice do we have but to continue? Firming my grip on her arm, I lead the way forward into the dark street.

We’ve taken no more than two steps when three shadowy figures emerge from the darkness before us. I stop short, jerking Ilusine to a halt. Heart thudding, I begin to back up, determined to regain the light of the street lamp. Two more figures block our retreat. My gaze darts, trying to take in all of them at once. The shadows cast by their brimmed hats obscure their faces, but I catch flashes of green eyes reflecting in the lamplight. Gods spare me, they aren’t human.

“Stand aside,” Ilusine declares and draws herself up straight. The effect is pathetic. Those strange, reflective eyes exchange glances. Behind us, someone sniggers. “You will let me and my companion pass,” Ilusine persists, cold and regal.

“And what if we don’t?” the foremost of the strangers asks. I glimpse a flash of yellow teeth. “You can put on all the airs you like, but we’s masters of this way. You gots to pay the tithe.”

“We shall do no such thing, you little vermin,” Ilusine snarls, even as I demand, “What tithe, gentlemen?” I hate myself a little bit for saying it. If only I could be more like Ilusine, brimming with command and condescension. But life has taught me to accommodate and pacify when necessary. I learned that lesson early on in childhood and kept on learning it until it was positively ground into my soul. The skill has served me well in the past.

The foremost of the figures turns from Ilusine to me. I can’t read any expression in those gleaming disk eyes, but I feel his gaze sliding up and down my body. “From you?” he says. “Nothing much. Just a kiss. One for each of us.”

My blood chills. “That is all?”

“For the present, poppet.”

Ilusine’s nails dig into my arm. “Don’t even think about it,” she snarls.

I can’t bear the idea of kissing any of these men, these creatures. But they have us surrounded. And the fae are bound by bargains once struck, aren’t they? Perhaps I can work this to our advantage. “Do I have your word that, with a single kiss for each of you, I and my companion shall pass freely on our way?”

Another flash of teeth that look a little too sharp. “Oh yes, pretty promises, sweet lady.”

“Don’t trust them,” Ilusine says. “Fae who have lived too long in the human world pick up a knack for lying as their blood thins.”

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