Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
I smiled a little, sort of amused by the fact that even caelestias could get hangovers. “Yes, you look energetic and ready to seize the day.”
“You are too kind, pet.” A wan grin appeared beneath the pale blue cloth. “What brings you to me this morning?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“I do hope it’s good news.” When I didn’t answer, he peeled the cloth back from one half-open eye. “What in the gods’ name are you wearing?”
I glanced down at myself, confused. I wore an old threadbare blouse and a pair of breeches that I found a few years back, left behind in the laundry chambers. Granted, the pants had seen better days, but they were perfect for when I was outside. “I was in the gardens.”
An eyebrow rose. “Whose pants are those?”
“I have no idea,” I said, and his lip curled like the idea of wearing someone else’s clothes made him want to vomit. “I . . . I know something that could potentially be a bad thing.”
Claude sighed, removing the cloth. He dropped it on the end table. “Hopefully it’s not more strange, golden fires.”
“You’ve heard?”
“Hymel woke me with the news.” He picked up what I hoped was only a glass of orange juice. “Is it about that?”
“I’m not sure.” I chose my words wisely. “Last night, I came across Finn and Mickie— two of your guards.”
The look on his face told me he had no idea who I was talking about.
“And I learned something about them,” I shared. “They are involved in the shadow market.”
Claude lowered his glass. “In what way?”
“The worst way,” I said. “Harvesting . . . parts for bone magic.”
He stared at me for a moment. “For fuck’s sake, are you sure?”
I stared at him.
“Yes. Of course you are.” He set the glass aside as he dropped his boot to the floor. The dark shirt he wore moved like liquid silk over his shoulders as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Those fires? Hymel said the magistrates had heard from witnesses that the flames were golden.”
“That’s what Grady told me.” My fingers curled along the rim of my hat. “They weren’t successful in their harvesting.”
“I wouldn’t think so based on the charred remains found after the fires were put out,” he remarked, and my stomach soured. “Porter? The owner of the Twin Barrels? He was engaged in this business?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how many are involved, but . . .”
“But at least two of my guards are?” His jaw tightened. “Or were, if they were among the bodies discovered.”
“There was another name that I’ve heard. A Muriel.”
Claude frowned. “Muriel?”
“Yes. I’m not sure who that is.”
He eyed me for a moment, then sat back. A moment passed. “The last thing we need is for Prince Rainer to believe Archwood is a haven for those seeking to use bone magic.”
Prince Rainer oversaw the Court of Primvera. I had never seen the Hyhborn, but Claude said the Prince was a friendly sort. Hopefully he continued to be that way.
“I can try to see if any other guards are involved,” I offered.
Claude’s chest rose with a heavy breath. “Thank you for coming to me, and for your aid. That would be appreciated.”
I nodded, beginning to rise. “Hopefully they were it.”
“Yes,” Claude murmured, squinting as he stared out the window. “Hopefully.”
“I’ll let you know if I find anything.” I started to leave, then stopped. “Would you like something for your headache? I have some peppermint— ”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” His smile turned wry as he looked up at me. “The headaches are deserved.”
They probably were, but I didn’t think that meant he needed to suffer. “You sure?”
“Yes, pet. I am.”
Hesitating for a moment, I then turned. I made it only a few steps.
“Pet?”
I faced him. “Yes?”
He’d picked up the cloth. “Are you happy here?”
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” At once, my stomach dropped as my mind went to the worst-case scenario. For him to ask something similar twice in the span of twenty-four hours unnerved me. “Are you not happy with me?”
“No— no. That’s not why I asked,” he was quick to say. “I’m lucky to have you.” He twisted at the waist, toward me. “I just want to make sure you know that.”
“I do,” I whispered.
Claude smiled, but there was something off about it. Tired, even brittle, but I imagined that had more to do with the ache in his head.
“Feel better,” I said, crossing the study. Something struck me then— about this Muriel.
I didn’t know . . . anything about him. Nothing came to me, which could mean only one thing.
Muriel was a Hyhborn.
But that made little sense. Why would a Hyhborn be involved in bone magic?
CHAPTER 8
Sultry music drifted down from the balcony above the solarium, masking some of the sounds radiating from the various couches and nooks. Beneath the music and the clink of glasses, there were thicker, heated sounds mingling with the hum of conversation. Teasing laughter. Low groans. Breathy gasps as bodies moved against one another.