Page 21 of Heir of Illusion

“And yet I feel patronized.” I roll my eyes, catching sight of several other patrons who are watching the reaper with varying degrees of nervousness.

“Why are you following me?” I ask, taking charge of the conversation.

His head tilts. “Who says I am?”

“I’m not in the mood for games tonight.”

“Good.” He shrugs, sitting back again. “I don’t play with cheaters.”

“As yourfriend”—I instill every ounce of derision I can manage into the word— “I should probably point out that everyone in this room is staring at you. They think you’re talking to an empty chair.”

“How embarrassing,” he says gravely. “Am I blushing?”

Frustration builds within me as my temper flares.

He rests his elbows on the table, leaning close enough for me to smell his bergamot scent as his voice turns soft, intimate. “If you’re concerned about my reputation, you could always reveal yourself.”

“You know, if you keep asking me torevealmyself,” I whisper, “I’m going to take it the wrong way.”

He bites his lip to stop a smile. “Then they’d really have a reason to stare.”

The reaper’s face is only inches away from mine, his breath floating against my cheek. I shoot back, realizing I’d leaned closer to him without meaning to. Swallowing thickly, I glance at the bar and freeze.

Lynal is gone.

Chapter

Six

My eyes frantically search the pub, but it’s too late. Calf aching, I shoot up from the table, ignoring the reaper as I head for the back exit. Rushing through the narrow hallway, I squeeze past a couple who are locked in a passionate embrace against the wall.

Pushing the flimsy door open, I slip into a nearly pitch-black alleyway. The light from the streetlamps has flickered out, probably due to a lack of oil. It’s not surprising since the king tends to skimp on those kinds of necessities in the Lowers. Tonight, the district must rely on only the glow of the moon to illuminate the darkness.

After spending the last several hours inside the stuffy pub, I welcome the brisk air despite the unpleasant smell. Lynal stands with his back to me, several feet away. He balances against the wall with one hand, leaning his head against the cool brick building. Based on the steady hissing sound of liquid hitting the ground, I can easily guess what he’s doing.

The establishment has a lavatory, but there’s something about alcohol that makes men long to empty their bladders outdoors. Lynal, like so many of his brethren before him, is partaking in this sacred male ritual. Not wanting to interrupt, I wait until he finishes and begins to lace up his breeches before I approach.

“Lynal,” I whisper through the darkness.

“Who’s there?” He whips around clumsily, impaired from the evening’s activities.

Moving further down the dimly lit alley, I call his name again. “Lynal.”

“Whoever’s doing this, it’s not funny,” he slurs, his face turning red with anger.

His eyes widen as I release my illusion and step out of the shadows, into a pool of moonlight.

“Don’t you want to play with me, Lynal?” I crook my finger, luring him deeper into the alley.

His gaze shifts over his shoulder, settling on the pub door that stands about ten feet behind him. For a moment, I worry he will do the smart thing and return inside. But when his head swings back to me and his lips pull into a slimy smile, I’m reminded that Lynal isn’t very bright.

“Where did you come from?” he asks, swaying a few steps closer.

“I followed you. I’ve been watching you all evening,” I confess, the shy tone of my voice at odds with the bold words. “Is that alright?”

“Depends on what you want, sugar.” His gaze travels over my body. He can’t see much underneath my cloak, but based on the way he’s leering, I’m sure his imagination is filling in the gaps.

“I wanted to be alone with you.”

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