Page 50 of Beyond the Winter Kingdom
I materialized in Amelia’s apartment. For a witch, she was freakishly clean. There were no half-melted candles, open spell books, or pungent herbs. Only the faint scent of lemon and a black-on-black color scheme that would put the Addams family to shame. That was a great show decades ago. Black and white, of course. All my favorites were.
Saving these stupid fae was becoming a full-time job, and in case no one noticed, I was a god cat. I wanted to eat and sleep and sneak over to other realms to indulge in my guilty pleasures. Working was not part of the plan, yet here I was.
The witch was hunched over a stove, stirring a pot with a liquid mixture that resembled tar while belting out “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived”. I cleared my throat.
“Amelia, baby,” I began, tail flicking. “I didn’t take you for a Swiftie.”
She froze, spoon in hand. “What do you want, Corvo?”
I shifted side-to-side in discomfort. It was always the eyes; glowing red as hot coals. It was a good deterrent if you didn’t want someone looking at you for too long. “I need a portal. And I also need you to cooperate when a certain someone arrives about said portal.”
A single black brow arched as she looked in my direction. “Cooperate? With whom?”
“Oh, just Kaia ... and possibly Drayden,” I said nonchalantly. She cursed under her breath, dropping the spoon. The tar-like mixture bubbled noxiously. “They’re going to request a portal. I need you to be the lovely person I know you aredeep,deepdown and make one for them. Don’t demand their firstborn or something equally ... unsavory.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Glowing red eyes focused on me with an unnerving intensity. Every creature belonged to one of two categories. Peasants, such as Vareck, or equals, like Amelia.
I gave her my best godly shrug. “Unfortunately, I’m not. I give it less than fifteen minutes before they find you. They’ll look at the bar first, naturally.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb, then breathed deeply. I’d seen her do it a number of times over the years. Typically someone died shortly thereafter. I was hoping to avoid that little show. “Where do you need a portal to?”
“My realm.”
Her eyes cracked open, narrowed in my direction. “Why? You can literally pop in whenever.”
I crouched, hoping I came across as detached, but also serious. It was a complicated balance. “Yeah, but my dumbass familiar and his saucy redhead—who I actually like—ended up in Evorsus. I need to pull them back before the fuzzy inhabitants turn 'em into hors d'oeuvres. Damon’s there too for some reason, and while V thinks he's a twat, I kinda like the guy. He feeds me under the table even when Eleanor tells him not to. He’s been doing that since he was a tot. He may act tough, but we bonded. What can I say?” Amelia reached around to flip the burner off.
“Sounds like athemproblem.” Her stance was casual. Too casual. My inner detective smelled something, and it wasn’t whatever concoction she had in that pot of hers.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything aboutthembeing there, would you?”
Amelia didn’t answer. She just reached for her wine—because naturally she was drinking red in a murder-glam kitchen—and took a long sip for the dramatic pause. I would have done the same thing if I had thumbs. Instead I was cursed with adorable toe beans.
“I might,” she said finally, lips curling. “But if I did, it would be purely hypothetical and involve circumstances that were ... fluid.”
“Fluid,” I echoed, taking a deep breath. My whiskers twitched in annoyance. “You launched a fury-descended king and his chaos grenade of a mate into Evorsus. That’s not fluid, that’s a war crime.”
She twirled the wine in her glass while watching the burgundy liquid with disinterest. “I’m not the one who let two ticking time bombs wander through the Witching Hour unsupervised. Maybe next time, keep a leash on your bonded.”
“First of all,” I hissed, tail swishing like a blade, “you’ve got a real flair for theatrics, and it’s not as cute as you think it is. Plausible deniability won’t work for someone who’s not denyingnearly enough.Second, I’m about to make this ayouproblem if you don’t help get them out of there. “
Amelia gave a slow shrug, the kind that meant she was proud of herself and also deeply unconcerned about consequences. “They weren’t exactlynotmeant to go there.”
I blinked. “You really just put the fun in funeral, don’t you?”
“Sometimes you need the right kind of pressure to learn what someone’s made of,” she said, lifting her brows. “Evorsus tests people. I’m just ... accelerating the lesson plan.”
“I swear to the gods, if he dies in there and takes me with him, I’m haunting your overpriced sofa for eternity.”
She smirked. “Then I’ll finally have a pet.”
I growled. “This isn’t a game, Amelia.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s a strategy. You just don’t like that it’s mine.”
“This isn’t a pissing contest over powers.” I jumped up onto the counter, eyes narrowing to slits. “Drayden’s coming. So is Kaia. When they demand a portal, you’ll be ready. You’ll smile that creepy wine-mom smile of yours and open the damn door to hell like the helpful hostess I know you can pretend to be.”
She studied me over the rim of her glass. “And if I don’t?”
