Page 37 of Beneath the Cursed Veil

I blushed, recalling Kaia had said something like thatwhen she was leaving. Too much had been going through my mind to focus on that at the time.

“Thanks, Corvo,” Vareck said through a clenched jaw.

“Just trying to be helpful.”

Vareck shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “damn cat”under his breath.

“What about you?” I said slowly. “I know you said you don’t have much experience dating, but is there someone else? A betrothed, perhaps? I know you royalty like to do that sort of thing . . .” My words trailed and heat rose in my cheeks.

Vareck lifted a spoonful of the stew to his mouth and chewed slowly. “Why? Wondering if there’s competition?” He smirked.

I blanched, not expecting that response. “What? No. Noooo,” I repeated. “I was just . . . making conversation.”

He snorted. “Sure you were. Relax, Meera. There’s no one else. There hasn’t been since . . .” He cleared his throat. “There hasn’t been in a long time.”

“Good,” the word managed to slip out before I could hold it back. If I was blushing before, my face was on fire now.

Vareck lifted an eyebrow. “Is it?” He repeated my own question back to me.

Freaking hell. Why had I said that? I wanted to disappear into the bushes like that gif of Homer Simpson. Unfortunately for me, invisibility was not one of my talents and there were no bushes to be found. “I . . . it remains to be seen.”

Vareck grinned teasingly as he took another bite. We didn’t speak for the rest of our meal. In fact, I didn’t even look at him.

That didn’t mean I didn’t feel his gaze on me.

And if I was being honest with myself, I liked it.

But that couldn’t be. I was his captive. He was my captor. This was just a result of my long dry spell and too many romance books.

Right?

Chapter 13

Lucian

Smoke curled around my lips as I sighed, leaning back into the plush cushions. The Witching Hour sure knew how to make a fae feel comfortable. On a regular day, The Black Lounge was my preferred place to operate—dark corners, whispered deals, and enough shadows to swallow a man whole. The underbelly of the human world was where a leprechaun like me flourished.

Creatures weren’t ruled by royalty or class barriers here. No, necessity ran this world, and wouldn’t you know it—I was the lead supplier. All hail the King. Ancient artifacts, cursed scrolls, copious amounts of illegal glamour—you name it, I could get it. My connections stretched out like a spiderweb, intricate and inescapable, weaving everyone together in owed favors and good fortune.

My fortune.

And I seemed to have it in spades.

Today was not a day for The Black Lounge, but tucked away at a corner table in the main club was just as important. Blend into the background for a while and you eventuallygo unnoticed. Just another patron, sipping whiskey with a friend. A man like me learned a lot by people-watching. Listening. Knowledge was power, and with a little luck, it paid me well.

I flicked open the pocket watch in my hand, huffing on my pipe before setting it down on the table. The ornate gold piece was hooked inside my jacket, one side enchanted to show the current weather and any reminders for the day. A small trinket I’d lifted from Meera’s collection. She’d been quite cross with me last time, but I had expected it. My friend wasn’t motivated by money, only her desperate need for it. As long as I kept her luck in check, I had nothing to fear. She’d always come back.

“It’s about that time. Finish your drink.” I turned to my bodyguard, tapping the ash from my pipe into the tray. Sliding a small box from my pocket, I flicked it open to reveal dried lavender and tobacco leaves. I shook my head as I packed the bowl. “I got places to be, Frank. Items to sell. Money to make.” Tapping the pipe on the table, I offered it up to him. The orc just shook his head, draining the rest of his scotch on the rocks. I shrugged, searching for my lighter when an unfamiliar voice made its way to my ears, making me pause.

A woman—high fae by looks of her—was at the bar, talking to Amelia. An angel if I ever saw one. Tall and lovely, with beautiful black hair tied in intricate braids and flawless umber skin. With weapons strapped to her back, her armor marked her as military, but the golden royal seal above her breast and the bold stripes upon her shoulders marked her as more. She was a personal guard to the king, and she was the commander.

A deadly angel, it would seem.

“Now what do you suppose she’s doing here?” I whispered to Frank while I patted down my pockets. When I came up empty, I snapped my fingers a few times until a spark flared to life. The lavender caught, curling inward as it burned.

Frank grunted, rubbing at one of his tusks. A man of few words.

The lady guard, however, wasn’t. She and Amelia’s conversation spanned several minutes, their voices lowered until Amelia laughed, nodding her head and holding out her hand. The guard tossed a pouch of coins on the counter and Amelia turned, then pointed at me with a wicked grin.

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