“I was saying that you wouldn’t like Ari to forget how to be diplomatic, Your Highness.” Cleo lifted her hair from the back of her neck and turned toward the sea breeze.
“You don’t have to start calling me Your Highness simply because I’m king now.” Thad pressed his fingers to his forehead as if he had a headache and then looked at his sister. “And we really do need you to keep being diplomatic, though I’d love a front-row seat to you putting a few people in their place.”
“Point me in the right direction,” Ari said, and was rewarded with a weary smile.
“Things will settle.” Thad sounded cautious. “Once people see that I can work with the Assembly and that I can take a strong stand against the violence and crime that seem to be spreading out of the slums and into the city proper.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” A short, immaculately dressed man with pale skin, auburn hair, and unnerving golden eyes stepped out of the garden and into the light of the lanterns.
Thad sucked in a sharp breath. His voice shook as he asked, “What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”
The man smiled, slow and cruel, and Ari shivered.
In a voice like polished marble, he said, “Come now, dear boy. Did you really think something as inconsequential as a guest list could keep me away?”
Ari stared at the man, and then looked up at Thad’s face.
Her brother’s lips were set in a thin line, and anger—for the first time since the night their mother had been killed by the queen’s hunter—lit his eyes. Without looking at her, he said quietly, “Ari, Cleo, go back to the ballroom.”
“I don’t think I should.” Ari moved to stand by Thad while Cleo took a tiny step back toward the ballroom door, torn between obeying her king and staying with her best friend.
The princess faced the man in front of them. He barely came up to her shoulder, and his clothing suggested nobility of some kind; but the cold, calculating look in his eyes reminded Ari of the man she’d once seen the palace guards haul into her father’s throne room on charges of attempting to assassinate the queen.
“Go.” Thad spoke through gritted teeth.
Right. Because ordering his sister to do something she didn’t want to do had worked so well for him in the past. Besides, she was done with Thad’s subjects questioning his abilities and his right to the throne.
She met the man’s gaze. “You aren’t on the guest list. Leave at once, or I will call the guards to deal with you.”
The man cocked his head to stare at her, and Ari clenched her fists to control the tremble that shuddered through her. She felt like a helpless mouse pinned beneath the claws of a ravenous cat.
“She’s of no interest to you,” Thad said sharply. “And you have no reason to be here.”
“Ah, but I do like to check in on my debtors.” The man turned his gaze back to Thad. “Especially when he owes me so much.”
Thad was the king of Súndraille. He didn’t owe anyone, and Ari had had enough of this man with his cold eyes and his creepy smile.
“Guards!” she called sharply.
Two uniformed guards who were standing just inside the ballroom door pivoted toward her voice. The man in front of her snapped his fingers, and the door separating the garden from the ballroom slammed shut. The guards pounded on the door, but it refused to open.
“What have you done?” She meant her words to sound commanding, but there was a tremor in her voice. Cleo mumbled prayers to the stars and hugged her arms across her body as Thad stepped in front of the girls, his broad shoulders nearly eclipsing Ari’s view of the man.
What kind of man could shut a door with the snap of his fingers? He couldn’t be from Morcant, because only the females of royal lineage had magic there. He couldn’t be from Vallé de Lumé, because it was a sorceress, not a wizard, who controlled the land.
That meant he had to be fae.
And that meant Thad was in way over his head.
Thad took another step toward the man. “Open that door and leave us be. We’ve settled our terms. I owe you nothing for the next nine years and eleven months.”
Ari stared at Thad, her mind racing to make sense of his words and coming up empty. The panic she’d felt in the ballroom earlier snaked through her veins again, sending her heart racing. What was going on?
The man smiled. “Didn’t read the fine print, did you?”
Thad froze.
“Why do you think I wanted a king in my debt?”
Thad glanced at Ari, his gaze haunted.
The man closed the distance between them. “The fine print, my boy, says that you are to do nothing to impede my business in your kingdom. You cannot interfere with my activities. This is simply a courtesy visit to let you know that there will be a little trouble at the docks tomorrow morning, and that you are to order the city guard to stand down. In fact, stand them down in the merchant district as well. Not just tomorrow, but for the foreseeable future.”
Ari glared at the man while her heart pounded. She didn’t know what kind of business he had in Súndraille, but if he didn’t want Thad’s interference, it was likely he was part of the growing wave of crime and violence Thad’s new subjects desperately wanted him to end.
“And if I don’t?” Thad’s voice was full of the kind of bravado he used when he knew he’d been beaten but was refusing to admit it.
The man’s smile winked out. “Then you will pay your debt in full. Immediately. And nobody survives that.”
Thad’s shoulders bowed, and the man snapped his fingers again. The door flew open, and the guards tumbled out, but the man turned and disappeared into the darkness.
“We should go back inside,” Thad said quietly. “People must be looking for us by now.”
Ari dug in her heels and pulled him to a stop when he tried to move toward the ballroom. “That’s it? No explanation for the creepy little man with the debt he’s holding over your head?”
“No.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She glared at him. “Did you see what he did with the door? He has to be fae. Why are you mixed up with someone who can do magic? And what did he mean when he said that when you pay your debt in full, you won’t survive?”
Thad met her gaze, his expression fierce. “I was backed into a corner, and I had to make a bargain with him. It’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it. But you are going to stay out of this, and whatever you do, you are going to stay far away from Alistair Teague. Promise me.”
“Fine. I’ll stay away from Teague.” It was an easy promise to make. Teague made her feel like she was dangling by a thread over a deep, black hole. But if Thad thought she was going to stay out of this and ignore the threat to her brother, he was a fool. It was the two of them against the world; and the last thing Thad needed to deal with on top of questions about the legitimacy of his kingship and an economy shaken by a spike in crime was a fae threatening him over a bargain.
She couldn’t stop the nobility from questioning Thad’s ability to rule. She couldn’t stop criminals from targeting Súndraille’s cities. But she could figure out what kind of fae creature Alistair Teague was, and maybe that would help Thad figure out how to get free of him.
As a group of Draconi who appeared to be close friends of the Eldrian king spilled out into the garden, laughing and dancing, Thad straightened his shoulders, nodded to Cleo as she snatched up her tray of fizzy wine, and then took Ari’s arm and gently steered her toward the ballroom.
Ari stayed by his side, smiling until her face felt like it would never resume a normal expression and gritting her teeth at the barbed questions and insinuations many Súndraillians tossed at her brother.
Thad was going to have to make time in his busy schedule to have a heart-to-heart with her about whatever bargain he’d struck. In the meantime, she’d start asking questions about Teague. If a fae creature with magical power was in Súndraille, someone would’ve heard of it.
If Teague thought he was going to
use the bargain he’d made with Thad to take her brother’s life, he was going to have to go through Ari first.
THREE
ALISTAIR TEAGUE SURVEYED the docks with cold satisfaction.
Deckhands hauled boxes of freight up the long ramps that led from the dock to the ships rocking gently in their berths along the inner harbor. Merchants scurried around piles of goods, issuing orders, while the ships’ captains called out commands to check rigging and move lively. At the mouth of the dock, where the weather-beaten planks met the crushed seashell road that edged Kosim Thalas, the harbormaster stood with a schedule of departures and arrivals in his hands.
Not a single city guard in sight.
The sun crept higher, tearing through the early morning mist with pale fingers. Flocks of seabirds cawed as they swooped over the golden waves of the Chrysós, diving to snatch fish with their sharp beaks. Alistair allowed himself a small smile. Like a seabird, he was prepared to descend on his prey without warning.
Without mercy.
And now he no longer had to account for interference from the crown. With the new king of Súndraille firmly in Alistair’s debt, he could conduct his business out in the open.
His would be the name whispered in secret by a kingdom too terrified to speak of him in broad daylight. He would be the cautionary tale parents told their children at night and the clarion call of hope for those desperate enough to bargain their lives away. He would do as he pleased with relentless force; and by the time he made a move for the throne, there would be no one left to dream of opposing him.
Once upon a time, he’d served a crown with no desire to wear one himself.
But that was before the betrayal. Before his exile.
Before the fear of another human uncovering his secrets turned his dreams into nightmares.
When he was in power, when the kingdom was cowering at his feet, he would force every subject to sign a contract in blood. A promise that if they ever asked questions about him—his present or his past—they would immediately pay for it with their lives. He’d finally be untouchable.
He glanced around once more, meeting the eyes of Daan, his debt collector, and the handful of enforcers who were scattered about, blending into the busy rhythm of the dock until the time came to spring the trap.
A flurry of activity at the mouth of the dock caught his attention, and Teague’s eyes narrowed as a woman carrying a small child on one hip and a worn satchel over her shoulder shoved a piece of parchment into the harbormaster’s hands and gathered her other four children close while he read the document.
A shipping order. Confirmation that she’d scraped together her meager coin and purchased a berth for herself and her miserable brood aboard a large Eldrian cargo ship bound for the remote port of Ailvansky.
She’d been careful. Secretive. She’d trusted no one.
It didn’t matter. Teague had spies everywhere, including the dock. Cold rage filled him as she took the parchment from the harbormaster with shaking hands and urged her children onto the dock and toward the ramps.
Humans. Greedy, easily manipulated, and unfaithful to their last breath.
He eased behind a merchant who was loudly ticking off the items on his cargo list and waited while she rushed her children past his hiding place. She was muttering desperate pleas for them to move faster. Be quieter. Hurry.
As the last child, a boy who looked maybe ten years old, moved past Teague, pushing a younger girl ahead of him and glancing around the dock with worried eyes, Teague left his place of concealment. Lunging forward, he grabbed the boy’s arm and spun him around.
The boy’s eyes grew big, and he pulled back, but he was no match for Teague.
“Oh, Sela, I believe you’re forgetting someone,” he called, his voice cutting through the dockside clamor and bringing the woman to a halt.
She spun, and terror flooded her face at the sight of her son caught in Teague’s grip.
“Please.” She dropped the satchel and raised a trembling hand toward Teague as her other children clustered around her, their eyes fixed on their older brother. “Not my boy. Not him.”
Teague stepped toward her, dragging the boy with him. “It wouldn’t have been your boy at all, Sela, but you tried to cheat me.”
“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . .” Her voice faded, and tears gathered in her eyes. “Please.”
“Your collection day isn’t for another three months, but trying to break your contract with me makes the debt come due immediately.” Teague reached a free hand into his vest pocket and pulled out a glittering diamond flask with a gold stopper.
“No!” Her voice broke.
He shoved the boy toward his siblings and unstoppered the flask as Sela pulled her son close. “Nine years, eight months, three weeks, and two days ago, you made a wish that I would save your dying husband. You promised me your soul if I would take away the disease that was killing him.” His eyes snapped to hers, and rage burned in his chest while his magic spread through his veins like ice. “I kept my end of our bargain. And how do you repay me? You try to run!”
“Because my children need me!”
“They have your husband.” His gaze was pitiless.
“He died. Two years ago this fall. Hit by a horse and carriage while we were at the market.” She threw the words at him, desperate and fierce. “When I made the deal, I thought he would be alive to take care of any children we might have. To provide for them. But he died.”
“That’s what people do,” Teague said viciously. “And that changes nothing about our arrangement.”
“But my children! They’ll be left with no one to take care of them.” Tears streamed down her cheeks and fell to the dusty wooden planks beneath her feet.
Teague smiled. “They’ll have me. At least until I sell them to a slaver in Balavata.” He met the gaze of his collector and motioned sharply for his men to move in.
Sela looked wildly around the dock as the enforcers stepped forward. “Run!” she yelled to her children, but it was too late. Teague’s men had them surrounded.
“Please, I’m begging you!” She fell to her knees and clutched for her children as the enforcers dragged them away from her.
“Beg all you want.” His voice was soft as he stepped toward her. “Plead. Grovel. Promise me anything if only I won’t take what you already agreed to give.”
She reached for his boots with trembling hands. “Not my children. They aren’t part of this. Please. Take me, but spare them.”
He crouched beside her.
“And if I do that, what will my other debtors think? Why would they not also try to defy me?”
She choked out her children’s names between sobs.
Teague raised his voice to be heard above her cries. “Ghlacadh anam de Sela Argyris agus mianach a dhéanamh.”
Strands of brilliant white streaked through her veins to gather in her chest. Somewhere behind him, a child wailed. Sela’s eyes rolled back in her head, and Teague stood, holding out the flask as the light slowly separated from her body and hung in the air before gently winding its way into the mouth of the bottle. Sela’s body hit the dock with a thud, and her children screamed.
Teague pushed the stopper back into the flask and returned it to his pocket.
Another soul captured and ready to join the hundreds that had come before it and be turned into apodrasi, a new drug of his own creation that was lining Teague’s pocket with enough coin to make a lesser man happy.
Teague, though, wasn’t happy. Coin didn’t protect you. It didn’t save you from your secrets.
Only absolute power did that.
He looked around the docks, smiling grimly at the shocked, terrified faces of those who were close enough to have seen Sela’s soul exit her body.
Still not a single city guard in sight.
Power was telling the king to leave the docks unprotected and having him obey.
Power was knowing when his debtor was going to betray him.
&nb
sp; Power was the fear he saw on the faces of those who dared to meet his gaze as he stood over Sela’s body.
Leaving her corpse crumpled on the dock, Teague turned on his heel and walked away.
FOUR
IT HAD BEEN two days since the coronation ball, and Ari still hadn’t found a minute alone with Thad. Instead, she’d been trapped into sessions with the palace seamstress, who was measuring her for her fall wardrobe, afternoon tea with the nobility who’d stayed on at the palace for a few days after the ball before returning to their distant cities, and long discussions with the palace steward about managing the things usually delegated to the queen.
She didn’t know which was worse—the nonstop burden of princessy expectations that were (almost) ruining her appetite or the bright flare of panic that stole her breath and sent her pulse thundering in her ears when she thought about Thad being indebted to the strange man who’d crashed the ball. If she could just do something about it—get to the bottom of whatever was going on and make a plan to deal with it—she’d feel better.
Instead, on the morning of the third day after the ball, Ari found herself seated beside Thad on the royal platform in the palace’s Assembly hall, surrounded by a crowd of royally appointed nobles whose job was to bring their city’s needs to the king.
Judging by the lengthy list of discussion topics the Assembly had submitted to Thad, there was a lot that needed his attention.
Ari could think of something that needed his attention too, and since this was the first time her brother had slowed down long enough to be in the same room with her for more than a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it.
As pages drew the sea-gold curtains to let the morning sun in, and members of the Assembly broke away from their clustered conversational groups and headed toward their assigned seats at the enormous U-shaped table that lined the room, Ari leaned toward Thad.
“Put me on your schedule.”
A frown puckered his brow, and he looked up from the list of discussion topics. “What for?”