Page 82 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
He bows, all serious. “I won’t be captured, that’s a promise.”
There’s nothing that tickles the loyal soldier in him quite like the thrill ofespionage, and I watch him leave with an amused smile.
When he’s gone, I finish undressing and climb into the tub. My muscles hum in pleasure when I lower myself into the water. I rest my head on the cool copper and close my eyes. It’s been such a hectic day and a short night that I drift into an unplanned nap.
A loud thunderclap shakes me out of my slumber, and I open my eyes just in time to see Percy reenter the room through the windowpane. A spray of rain follows him inside.
“You’re still in the bath?” he asks.
I check the clock above the mantle and jump out of the water, my fingers all wrinkled. “Fuck! I have to get dressed.”
The towel rack next to the tub is full of coarse, gray towels, and I pat myself dry in a hurry. “What did you find out?”
Percy lands on the bed. “The workers are chatty little devils, and rumors of your visit have already spread. Now that they know Devi Eros is here in person, they can’t shut up about it. There are a few travel-ready mirrors in the citadel. Not a lot, but enough to be sure the Tidecallers’ new mirror-shattering policy hasn’t been enforced here. Whatever rebellion took control of the capital hasn’t spread to this province, yet.”
“That’s good. It means they won’t send us directly to Luther Storm,” I say.
Percy clears his throat. “There’s more. While the late warden was considered by most to be a level-headed leader, his sons arenot. They call the Rayne brothers the Worm, the Raven, and the Lorn.”
A big frown overpowers my face. “The Lorn?”
It’s not a word used in Faerie without thought, as Lorntre Hollow is haunted by one of the darkest powers in existence.
I grab the dress from the hanger and slip it over my head. “Mismatched eyes gives me the creeps. Which one is he?”
“Nathaniel Rayne, the Raven. He’s the youngest, but according to the kitchen maids, he’s a real devil and starving for a change in the pecking order.”
The skirt of the gown slides over my hips, and I adjust the neckline, feeling more naked and vulnerable than when I started. “Well, his older brother has outrageous taste in hostage clothing.”
The color of the chiffon shifts between black and seafoam, depending on how the light hits it. The neckline dips into a scoop, modest enough, but I resent the softness and femininity of the design. I like my dresses and pantsuits ready for battle, with straps to hide my weapons, and army boots to support a quick escape. This piece of lingerie would better fit some whimsical, imaginary woman. The A-line clings to my waist before drifting out, the hem longer in the back. There’s a pair of black stilettos in the wardrobe, but no underwear.
It might be a test. I’m supposed to be able to weave my own dress, after all, but I’m so sick of these games. Without my magic, I’m nothing but a doll for men to dress up.
Percy flies down to retrieve the high heels, setting them down in front of my feet. “Nathaniel is the official patron of the brothel in town, and there’s a naked woman chained to his bed as we speak.” Percy raises his hands in a calming motion. “Now, before you go berserk, I’d say she’s there of her own free will, eager for him to return.”
I step into the heels, and Percy fixes the straps.
“Alaric is in charge, but I heard he hasn’t been himself the last few days. And the third brother, Salazar, is secretly into men,” he says.
“You got all that from less than an hour of snooping?” Percy is a talented spy, but this sounds like the luckiest reconnaissance mission in history.
He bites his bottom lip. “Alright, I got most of it from Seth.”
“You should have led with that.” My voice grows a little breathless. “Is he alright?”
“He’s being kept in a cell usually reserved for the occasional drunk and disorderly worker. Fancy enough to block his magic, but he’s fine.”
My chest heaves in relief.
“He’s mostly worried about you,” Percy adds, watching my reaction. “He thinks his cousin might try to force himself on you.” His gaze falls to the chiffon dress. “Which, given the way Alaric chose to dress you for this dinner, is a clear possibility.”
I open and close my mouth, the discomfort between my shoulder blades growing into an itch, and play with the uneven hem of the dress. “This dinner is an opportunity for me to persuade Alaric to let us use his secret passage. I can’t refuse to go.”
“Are you planning to seduce him?” he asks, now hovering at eye-level. “He’s in love with someone else.”
“Men thwarted in love are the most hungry for validation,” I mumble.
“What about Seth?”
