Page 40 of A Crown of Lies

Aryn stiffened and sucked in a breath through his teeth as the masked elf leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“What brings you to my kingdom, little bird?”

“Yourkingdom?” Aryn scoffed.

The masked elf’s smile gleamed in the dark. “Indeed. This is my city, and all the people in it my courtiers, dancing, singing, and drinking on command. But enough about me. I’m much more interested in you. Why have you come here tonight? Are you a spy for the Crow?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

Aryn stiffened as a hand closed around his throat. Every instinct in him screamed for him to draw the dagger, to fight his way free, and slay the dangerous beast holding him. Instead, he stayed as he was and fought a shudder as soft fingers gently stroked his neck.

“Because, little bird, tonight I am asking nicely. Tomorrow, I am likely to be in a less generous mood. After all, honesty is the best policy, is it not?”

Aryn weighed his options carefully. Whoever this elf was, he claimed to be well connected. He was certainly brazen. If he played along, he might get everything he came for and more.

So far, his efforts to find anything useful on Niro Wolfheart had proven fruitless. The Voice of the Assembly was so clean it was suspicious. Aryn suspected he was very good at cleaning up after himself. Yet even the most careful cleaner sometimes missed crumbs.

“I want information,” Aryn said, his throat dry and voice strained. “Dirt on Niro Wolfheart.”

The masked elf leaned back and studied Aryn carefully without removing his hand from his throat. “For what purpose? Blackmail?”

“Loyalty,” Aryn answered through gritted teeth. “He almost certainly plans to nominate himself to run for Primarch. The Crow wants to know if he can be trusted, to get the measure of him. The best way to know an elf is to know his sins. Understand his darkness, and you can predict how he will behave in the light.”

“Hmm.” The masked elf released Aryn and took a half step back. “I had heard The Crow was an honorable elf. I expected better of him than these shadow games.”

“I can pay,” Aryn said, rubbing his neck. It didn’t hurt, but he found he missed the feel of the other elf’s hand around his neck.

“I do not need your coin,” spat the elf, turning away. He reached for the door.

“Wait!” Aryn called, and the masked elf froze. “Name your price. Whatever it is, I will pay it if I am able. Be the price in blood, in gold, or time, you have my word.”

The masked elf turned, the profile of his face briefly silhouetted against the moonlight filtering through the paper wall. He studied Aryn for a long moment before turning back around. “A kiss,” he declared with a prideful smirk. “A convincing one.”

Aryn swallowed. “So, you have dirt on him?”

“I know of his sins, and I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know… If you’re willing to pay my price.”

Aryn looked at the stranger before him, his heart fluttering in his throat. A kiss seemed like such a small price to pay, hardly anything at all to get the information he wanted. He’d certainly have paid a lot more for it. There had to be more to it, something he wasn’t seeing.

“Tick-tock, little bird,” the masked elf chided. “The night grows long, and I have other obligations to attend to. Decide now. Will you give me what I want? Or will you find another to sing for you?”

“Okay,” Aryn said, his voice rough. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

The masked elf stared at him for a long moment, as if deciding if he were sincere or not. Then he stepped back up to Aryn, taking Aryn’s chin in between two fingers and tipping it up. They stared at each other for a long moment, Aryn’s heart racing. An icy snake coiled in his belly, mixing strangely with the heat pumping through his veins. He licked his lips and tasted salt.

Why was he sweating? This was nothing. He’d kissed men before, slept with them when Omashii-Kuno ordered him to do so. He’d done many twisted things at her behest, seduced many powerful men and women.

But it had never been his choice to do so. Even if he could make his body respond as if it were, he’d neverwantedto. Every time, it’d been about pleasing her, finishing his mission to earn her praise. He’d done it for her, never for himself. Never for anyone else. The option to decline had never even been possible.

Now it was. He could stop this, walk away, and spend the rest of the night searching elsewhere for his answers if he chose.

But this wasn’t about answers, or the mission Ruith had sent him on. Something in him was drawn to this stranger in his silver mask, excited at the prospect of being near him, even if he never learned his name.

Hewantedto kiss him, just to know if he tasted as pleasant as his voice sounded. Wanted it enough that his cock had already hardened in his pants just thinking about it.

Underneath that want, though, was a slow building panic. He’d been so worried earlier about Mercia wanting someone else, and yet here he was doing exactly what he feared she might. He still wanted her, wanted to be loyal to her, to be with her, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted this, too.

The masked elf leaned in, breath from his nose tickling Aryn’s top lip. “Are you certain?”

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