Page 151 of A Promise of Peridot
“You’re full-blooded, so it might be even wider. Air, sun, fire.”
“How did Dagan know that?”
“He’s always been good at determining a Fae’s lighte source. Perhaps it was your bright and sunny soul.” He was walking ahead of me, but I could see the smile curving at his lips.
“I wasn’t very bright and sunny with Dagan in the beginning.”
“A light like yours cannot be dampened by circumstance.”
We hiked up another set of stairs under a tangled mesh of vines and long, pointed pine needles. I wiped a spiderweb from my face. “What’s the rarest element a Fae can pull lighte from?”
Kane didn’t turn back to me as he said, “Blood,” but looked behind his shoulder at my audible gasp. “They are a very rare breed, the Hemolichs. Aleksander’s men. The one who betrayed us. Hemolichs draw power from corpses, wounds, even their own injuries, making them unmatched warriors. Some drink the bloodof animals, mortals, or other Fae to keep their lighte strong. In Lumera, common slang for them is ‘vipers.’ But it’s a nasty slur.”
Before I asked one of a hundred follow-up questions, we pushed through a curtain of hanging willow and came face-to-face with two grim guards. One was missing an eye but hadn’t bothered with a patch of any kind.
“King Ravenwood of Onyx Kingdom. I’m here to see Killoran.”
Without another word, the one-eyed man lifted a stained fabric partition and we stepped into the covered fortress.
Lounged across a makeshift throne of knotted wood was a man who looked like he ate nails for breakfast. Leathered skin, cropped hair, and a stiff, mercenary mustache. Somehow bulky and lean, nearly all muscle, and presiding over a grotesque, dimly lit chamber.
Three topless women in beaded necklaces and skirts of gossamer were sitting around him like house cats. Haggard and hungry, each woman was chained to his throne with thin, crudely cut metal chainwork.
Men clad in rusted metal armor crowded the lair, each with their own unsophisticated weaponry—axes, clubs, and bludgeons. They packed the room like cramped teeth, all eyes focused on their leader.
Killoran’s throne sat before a wide, white marble table. Cluttered with weapons, chalices—
White marble... What kind of white marble could they—
Bone.
Femurs and sternums I’d worked on my whole life—my stomach heaved as I realized I was regarding a table crafted ofhuman bone.
But my stomach—it wasn’t a pit of nausea. No, it swirled and turned with something... different.
A tender, troubling pleasure. Like pressing on a bruise.
And my head—
Images were jumping into my mind that had no business being there: lips and ice, glass shattering and expanding, the echoing drops of blood on a silent, marble floor—
“King Kane Ravenwood,” Killoran roared heartily. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
I shook my head violently to dispel the uncanny feeling.
“Killoran.” Kane dipped his head in greeting. “Just some swift business.”
“Don’t be daft. Let me offer you a drink. Or one of my wives?”
My blood boiled as I took in the glee in which Killoran dipped his head toward the brunette behind him. “Gisal here has a tongue that will—”
“No,”Kane cut in, voice savage, before straightening himself. “That won’t be necessary. We are looking for a sword that was mistakenly brought here five years ago. My armorer needs a look through your weapon cache. Should only take her only a few minutes to find.”
“Even a pretty young king like yourself must know—nothing is given for free here.”
Kane’s lip curled upward and it sent a shiver down my spine. “What can I offer you? A great weapon hewn in your name? Enough meat and bread to last a year? More spirit than all your men can drink ten times over? Name your price.”
Kane seemed so calm, so at ease—almost as if he was havingfunwith Killoran.
