Understanding flashed in the faerie queen’s expression. “Calm yourself, Nightmare. Rachel isn’t a slave. I made some adjustments to the budget and the Unseelie Court now has a respectably paid staff, who have all signed a nondisclosure agreement should they decide to leave their position. We also offer an excellent work study program.”
Hearing this, the anger left my body. I stood there and tried to think of a graceful response, but I couldn’t think past the shame. Why hadn’t I thought of a solution like that?
Viessa spared me from forming a response. “Once I’m finished with Nuvian, I really should return to the party. One of our own just landed a seat on the Senate, if you hadn’t heard. But you and I will speak soon. Tomorrow, if you’ve had enough rest by then. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Sleep well, Lady Sworn.”
“Hey,” I said. Viessa paused and glanced back, her eyebrows going up in a silent question. “Is Lyari here? Is she okay?”
The Unseelie Queen smiled again. Something about this one seemed more real than the last. “I have no doubt she’ll be knocking at your door the second her shift ends tomorrow morning,” she assured me. “When I heard you’d arrived, I sent word that she could be reprieved, of course… but you know how she is.”
I was smiling a little, too. I did know how Lyari was. Once she committed to something, even something like a guard shift, she was all in.
Viessa started down the tunnel again, accompanied closely by Nuvian. Rachel didn’t delay leading us in the other direction. I only looked back once, and we’d already covered so much ground that Viessa and Paul were pale smears in the darkness. I faced forward again, my lips twisted in thought.
The four of us were silent during the rest of the journey. Rachel stopped beside a door covered in carvings of bears, folding her hands in front of her. Smart, I thought—she was clasping her fingers together to hide how they trembled. There was an awareness to her fear that indicated it was more than survival instincts. She’d either been warned that Gil was a newborn vampire or she had a healthy fear of her employers. Either way, that fear meant she’d survive longer down here.
“This will be your room, Prince Laurelis. Yours is the next one down, sir,” Rachel added. This was to Gil. Nothing showed on her face, and if there wasn’t the flavor of pepper on my tongue, I wouldn’t have known how scared she was. “Baths have been prepared for you.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” Gil said, leaving us without hesitation. He kicked the door shut and I heard his footsteps move farther into the room. Then, nothing.
Rachel turned to me. She tried to hide her relief, but it was evident in the lines of her body. “Your rooms are a bit farther, Lady Sworn.”
Realizing what this meant, I nodded and faced Laurie. It made me nervous, separating like this, and I didn’t like that I’d come to depend on him in some small way. My gaze met his. There was a dim reflection of my face in those metallic depths, and I saw that, unlike Rachel, I was doing a terrible job at hiding how I felt. I forced myself to look away and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”
There was a hint of amusement in Laurie’s voice as he adopted my tone. “Until the morning, Lady Sworn. Your absence will be such sweet torture. I shall comfort myself with many, many dirty dreams.”
For a moment, I considered throwing my shit-covered boot at him. Laurie probably knew what I was thinking, as per usual, because he slipped into his room without another word. The door hit the shoddy frame with a dull sound.
Feeling as though I’d returned to solid ground, I rolled my eyes and followed Rachel. The human had already started down the passageway—she was clearly eager to be rid of her charges. Less than a minute later, we arrived at a door adorned with carvings of birds. The feathers were so detailed that their outspread wings looked as though they were about to flap at any moment. Immune to its beauty, Rachel pushed the door open for me and stood to the side, allowing me to enter first.
The room was not grand or surprising in any way, but it was comfortable. As promised, a hot bath awaited. The tub had been placed beside a bright, crackling fire. It took all my self-control not to start undressing then and there. I turned back to Rachel and tried not to look impatient.
“Will there be anything else?” she asked from the doorway. “If you’re hungry, I could see what we have in the pantries.”
I hadn’t eaten in hours, but I wasn’t hungry. Not after so much adrenaline and wading through tunnels of shit. All I wanted was to step into the bathtub. “No, but thank you,” I replied, mustering a weak smile.
Once again, Rachel couldn’t conceal her relief. Murmuring a polite farewell, she quickly retreated and closed the door behind her. The moment she was gone, I yanked the ruined gown off, and I groaned out loud when the hot water touched my skin. I sank the rest of the way down and groaned again, the sound stark in the silence.
For a few minutes, I closed my eyes and reveled in the delicious heat. Then I sat upright and got to work. The water changed color from my efforts.
I’d just finished scrubbing the last of the filth away when someone knocked on the door. Probably Lyari.
I hurried to rise from the tub and reach for the robe. I crossed the flaps over me and knotted the belt at my waist. Knowing Lyari’s enhanced senses would hear me, I spoke as I went to pull the door open. “I never thought I’d see the day when you—”
The rest of the sentence lodged in my throat, and as I stood there, I couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or terrified.
Savannah Simonson stood in the passageway.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My first instinct was to slam the door in her face.
My second instinct was to pause. To assess, rather than react. I held the edge of the door so tight that the wood creaked. As I appraised the necromancer who was responsible for Fred’s death, who had abandoned a nephew I adored, she didn’t say a word. She was Fallen, so she’d probably sensed my power. It simmered under my skin like a river of lava beneath the Earth’s crust, dangerously close, lethally hot. Ready to explode.
Savannah looked different from the last time I’d seen her—better, I admitted reluctantly. Her green eyes, which had been hazy and frantic in the throne room, were now calm and clear. Her auburn hair, previously in a pixie cut, had grown slightly. It curled becomingly around her ears, gleaming like she’d just washed it. She wore a long-sleeved gown of gray wool, probably borrowed from a courtier, and I could see that her body was no longer skin and bones beneath it. The fae had been feeding her well, apparently.
At last I said, my voice flat, “I’m surprised you’re still here. Mercy mentioned you were going to stay with her.”
Savannah swallowed when I spoke, and her fear filled the air around us. I wasn’t tempted by it, because the thought of being in her head was repulsive. I didn’t need to hear Fred and Emma’s screams or witness the dark spell that had gone so terribly wrong.
Despite this, I still caught a glimpse of something, an image in Savannah’s mind. The memory was so vivid that it had to be new. The necromancer stood in a high-ceilinged room that was utter chaos. There were rows of tables from end to end, covered in items that were useful to tinctures and spells. Shelves covered the walls, lined with jars, plants, and tools. In one corner, rusty cages had been stacked like building blocks.