Page 149 of Flirting with Darkness

“You heard me.” I grinned. Getting that reaction from him of all people—it felt like an achievement. “These are the stories we hear about your kind.”

“Stars above, no wonder you pulled a knife on me.”

“I didn’t—that wasn’t…” I shook my head. “I was just thinking.”

“Aye. I get my blades out to thinkallthe time.” He rolled his eyes.

That was practically a joke. I really was getting him to lighten up. Arguing about last night wasn’t going to help with that, though, so it was time for my favourite tactic. It had worked on dozens of tavern conquests, and it was beautifully simple: a question. Preferably about himself, but he seemed the suspicious type, so a question about his world would do.

“This ‘scryer’—will that let you contact Bastian?”

“Unless he’s blocked all contact.” In the shade of his beard, Faolán’s lips pursed, and I thought he might stop there, but then he shrugged. “If he’s on the Queen’s business, or holed up with her making plans.”

A pang in my stomach had me pulling the apple from my pocket. “Plans?”

“He’s her…” Faolán’s eyes narrowed as they raked the path ahead, and he made a soft, rumbling sound. “Her closest advisor. When Her Majesty needs something, she calls for her right hand.”

That pause. There was something he wasn’t saying. A secret. Was that a secret from everyone or just me? If the latter, was that just because I was human or me specifically?

I buffed the apple on my trousers and frowned as I took a bite.

Its flesh was so crisp, it made a loudcrack, and the sweetest juice flooded my mouth, tasting like summer and autumn, fizzing with freshness. Good gods, it was… fuck… It was the best thing I’d ever tasted. I managed a breathless moan, and sucked juice from my lower lip as it threatened to dribble down my chin.

“Where did you get that?” Faolán’s voice was suddenly low and growly, and his presence at my side had gone tense where moments ago it had started to loosen.

I chewed, swallowed, shrugged. “Found it growing back—”

Snap.

It was like a god had clapped. Just once. Just ahead.

The air shifted. The hairs on my arms lifted. Something in my ears hummed.

And a figure appeared on the path.

9

AN INVITATION

She stood three yards away, black gown and white hair streaming behind her, though there was no wind.

Faolán stepped between us, shoulders square, hands at his sides near his twin blades. He half turned over his shoulder, so I could see his cheek and the edge of his nose, but kept his eyes on the old woman. “Where did you say you got that apple? Was it in a garden?”

“No.” In my hand, the shiny, crimson skin, the white flesh—suddenly they reminded me too much of blood and bone. I swallowed. “I mean… nottechnically.”

Beyond him, the woman’s wrinkled face broke into a broad smile, deepening the lines that bracketed her mouth. “A new friend,at last.” Her rheumy eyes glistened in the dim light as she clutched her arthritic hands over her chest.

She didn’t look like a threat… then again, thiswasfaerie.

“‘Not technically?’” His voice was low and dark. “You… Fuck, Rose, what did you do?”

“Now, now, youngling, don’t be cruel to the dear girl. And you know you can’t stand in my way once fruit’s been taken and eaten.” With a gesture and a raised eyebrow, she fixed Faolán with a look.

After long seconds, he edged to one side, a growl in his throat.

The woman drifted closer, feet an inch above the floor.

As well as the floating, there was something off about her, a flickering at her edges like dark flame, and something else I couldn’t place.

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