Page 95 of Lady of the Nightmares

“No.” He looked down at me, dark heat swirling in his gaze. “You want to know what I would have done if I found you first?”

My breath caught—I wasn’t sure who or what he meant when he said “first,” but it didn’t seem worth questioning. Not when my anger and…other things…bubbled so close to the surface. “Yes.”

“It would have been such a waste to kill you when instead, I could have had you on your knees, begging to submit to me. I would have kept you imprisoned for far longer than a year, chained to my bed, where I could taste your pretty cunt anytime I wanted. I’d destroy you, and every time you swore you hated me, I would have fucked your insolent, lying little mouth and made you beg for more.”

“Oh…” My mouth fell open, and words failed me.

He grabbed my chin with two fingers, forcing me to hold his unflinching gaze. “Don’t be embarrassed about last night, rebel. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. And when you decide you want more, I would be more than willing to pay fealty to my queen…all you have to do is ask.”

34

LONNIE

THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT

It was nearly midday by the time we finally made it down to the thieves’ den to speak with Cross and his children. Scion reminded me in a flat, uninterested tone I could swear he was putting on simply to try to make the situation less uncomfortable of how long Phillipa Blacktongue had stood in the office with us last night. Only five minutes at most, so our expectations were not high that Siobhan had managed to get anything out of her safe that might lead back to Ambrose Dullahan.

For my part, I prayed they’d found something for more reasons than simply wanting to catch the rebel leader. I had less to worry about when it came to the rebellion than the Everlasts, as I didn’t particularly care who ran the country. Of course, I cared about the afflicted, but I was willing to bet that Scion would have demanded to find his brother, regardless of whether the afflicted had moved south. His concern was for the crown, which was something I would do well to remember as well.

Mostly, I prayed that they’d found something so that perhaps I could still ask this Dullahan about Rosey. So that perhaps he would know how to break the curse, as Bael had suggested. Because perhaps he would be able to tell me even more about my future…everything.

When finally we stepped inside the thieves’ den, we were immediately met with the sound of steel on steel. Blades flashed through the air, and voices rang off the walls as pairs of fighters danced across the floor, sparring with an intensity that I could have sworn implied they were actually trying to kill one another.

Quill’s talons dug into my shoulder, and he flapped his wings nervously. I batted at him with one hand. “Ow, stop that. You’re too heavy as it is.”

He pecked my hand as if to say,“Be grateful I tolerate you at all, small human.”

“Be grateful I tolerateyou,” I replied.

Scion gave me an odd look as we edged around the perimeter of the room to avoid being beheaded by one of the spinning swords. “Are you speaking to him?”

I flushed. “I know it’s foolish. Do not mock me.”

His gaze traveled from me to his bird, and he shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Cross stood on top of a table at the far end of the room, surveying the fighters, his arms folded over his chest. He held up a hand to stop us as we approached. I came to an immediate halt several feet away from the table, and Scion stopped, albeit more reluctantly, beside me.

“I saw that!” Cross screamed at the top of his voice. “Do not think you can sneak chivalry past me, lass.”

A pretty, dark-haired girl in a set of tight, black training leathers dropped her sword on the dusty stone floor with an echoing clang and stomped toward us. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, displaying small pointed ears, but she had a smattering of pale freckles across her nose. Half-Fae.

Ignoring me and Scion completely, she scowled up at Cross. “Oh, so I was supposed to stab him?”

The same teenage boy who had served our breakfast yesterday tore after her, sheathing his own sword as he ran. I raised an eyebrow when the blade glinted in the light from the warm overhead lamp. That was no blunted training sword but a real blade.

“Get over yourself,” the boy scoffed with all the cocky arrogance of youth. “You couldn’t have stabbed me if you wanted to.”

“Oh, I wanted to,” the girl sniped back. “I simply know better than to strike before I know I’ll land the kill.”

The boy grinned in a self-satisfied way that was a bit lopsided now but would undoubtedly break hearts in a few years. “Which is just another way to say you’re scared.”

“Enough!” Cross pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes with deep exasperation. “Dodger, your right flank is wide open—you’ll be lucky if you don’t bleed out before you turn eighteen. Twist, the next time you fumble an easy hit, you’re out. I’d rather you fucking kill him than waste my time with pointless drills.”

The boy—Dodger, I gathered—hung his head, seeming appropriately chastised. “Yes, Father.”

The girl said nothing, merely turning on her heel with an expression that looked as if she was plotting murder. If I were taking bets, I’d say her next hit would land, should she choose to take it.

Cross grunted some sort of noise of approval and waved them off before jumping off the table to stand in front of us. “Apologies,” he said jovially, his stern tone melting away in an instant. “You know how it can be.”

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