Tharion pointed toward the wooden walkway built above the market. Leading toward an ordinary door that he knew opened into a long hallway. Two blank-faced Fae guards armed with semiautomatic rifles stood before it. “I’ve got a wild guess about where she might be.”
Now he had to figure out how to get the dragon Beneath.
Tharion eyed the bare-bones wooden hallway as he and Flynn strode down the worn planks, aiming for a round door at its far end. It looked like the entry to a vault, solid iron that didn’t reflect the dim firstlights.
They’d been halted at the first door by the Viper Queen’s guards. Flynn had snarled at them, but the males had ignored him, their drug-hazed eyes unblinking as they radioed their leader. That Tharion knew of this door at all told her guards he was important enough to warrant a call.
And here they were. About to go into the Viper Queen’s nest.
The massive vault door swung open when they were about ten feet away, revealing ornate red carpets—definitely Traskian—over marble floors, three tall windows with heavy black velvet drapes held back with chains of gold, and low-slung couches designed for lounging.
The Viper Queen was sitting on one of them in a white jumpsuit, feet bare, toenails painted a purple so dark it was almost black. The same color as her lipstick. Her gold-tipped nails, however, glinted in the soft lights as she lifted a cigarette to her mouth and puffed away.
But beside her, sprawled on the couch …
He’d been right. The Viper Queen did like to collect valuable fighters.
“Ari,” Flynn said tightly, halting just beyond the door. Mirthroot hung heavy in the air, along with a secondary, cloying scent that Tharion could only assume was another drug.
The dragon, clad in black leggings and a tight black tank top, didn’t take her eyes off the massive TV mounted above the dark fireplace across the room. But she replied, “Tristan.”
“Good to see you,” Flynn said, voice taking on that dangerously low quality that so few lived to tell about. “Glad you’re in one piece.”
The Viper Queen chuckled, and Tharion braced himself. “The lion she fought last night can’t say the same. Even confined to her humanoid form, she is … formidable.”
Tharion grinned sharply at the ruler of the Meat Market. “Did you capture her?” He needed to know how she’d done it. If only so he could do it himself.
The Viper Queen’s snake eyes flared to a nearly neon green. “I’m not in the business of snatching slaves. Unlike some people I know.” She smirked at Ariadne. The dragon continued to stare at the TV with fixed intent. “She sought me out and asked for asylum, since she realized there was nowhere on Midgard she might flee from her captor. We reached a bargain that suited us both.”
So the dragon had come of her own free will. Maybe he could convince her to go Beneath. It’d be a Hel of a lot easier.
Even if once he got her down there, she’d never get out again.
“You’d rather be here,” Flynn asked the dragon, “fighting in her pit, than with us?”
“You threw me on guard duty,” Ari spat, at last snapping her attention from the TV to Flynn. Tharion didn’t envy the male as she fixed her burning gaze on him. “Is that any better than fighting in the pit?”
“Uh, yeah. A fuck-ton better.”
“You sound like someone who’s grown accustomed to his life being dull as dust,” Ari said, turning back to the TV.
“You’ve been trapped inside a ring for the gods know how long,” Flynn exploded. “What the Hel do you know about anything?”
Molten scales flowed under her skin, then vanished. Her face remained placid. Tharion wished he had some popcorn. But he caught the Viper Queen’s narrowed eyes on him.
She said coolly, “I remember you: dead sister. Rogue shifter.”
Tharion suppressed the flicker of ire at the casual reference to Lesia and threw the snake shifter his most charming smile. “That’s me.”
“And the River Queen’s Captain of Intelligence.”
“The one and only.” He winked. “Care to have a word?”
“Who am I to deny the wishes of the River Queen’s daughter’s beloved?” Tharion tensed, and her purple lips curled, the razor-sharp bob swaying as she rose. “Don’t roast the Faeling,” she said to Ariadne, then curled a finger at Tharion. “This way.”
She led him through a narrow hall lined with doors. He could see ahead that the corridor opened into another chamber. All he could make out of it was more carpets and couches as they approached. “Well, mer?”
Tharion huffed a laugh. “A few questions.”
“Sure.” She tapped ash from her cigarette into a glass ashtray atop the coffee table.
He opened his mouth, but they’d reached the room at the other end of the hall. It was a near-twin to the other, only its windows overlooked the fighting pit.
But sitting on one of the couches, with a pile of white powder that seemed a Hel of a lot like lightseeker on a small brass scale on the table before her …
“Let me guess,” Tharion drawled at the Harpy, who lifted her head from where a Fae male weighed out the drugs, “it’s not yours; it’s for a friend.”
The Harpy’s dark eyes narrowed with warning as she eased to her feet. “Here to narc on me, fish?”
Tharion smiled slowly. “Just paying a friendly visit.”
She turned her menacing stare to the Viper Queen, who slid her hands into her pockets and leaned against the far wall. “Did you sell me out?”
“This pretty hunk of meat waltzed in. Wanted a word. He knows the rules.”
Tharion did. This was the Viper Queen’s space. Her word was law. He had as little authority over her as he did the Asteri. And if he pulled anything, she had as much authority as the Asteri to end him. Likely by throwing him into that fighting pit and seeing how many of her fighters it took to kill him.
Tharion gestured to the doorway in a mockery of a bow. “I won’t trouble you.”
The Harpy glanced at the male who now scooped her lightseeker into a black velvet bag lined with plastic.
“VIP service, huh?” Tharion said to the Viper Queen, whose lips curved again.
“Only the best for my most valued clients,” she said, still leaning against the wall.
The Harpy snatched the bag from the Fae male, her black wings rustling. “Keep your mouth shut, mer. Or you’ll wind up in pieces like your sister.”
He let out a low growl. “Keep talking, hag, and I’ll show you what I did to the male who killed her.”
The Harpy chuckled, tucking her drugs into the pocket of her jacket, and walked out, wings a black cloud behind her.
“Buying or selling?” the Viper Queen asked him quietly as the Fae male packed up his drugs and scale and bustled out.
Tharion turned to her, willing the rage riding his temper to ease off. “You know that psychopath made blood eagles out of two rebels, don’t you?”
“Why do you think I invited her to be a client? Someone who does that kind of shit needs to take the edge off. Or keep it on, I suppose.”
Tharion shook off his disgust. “She talk to you about what those rebels were doing in this city?”
“Are you asking me to play spy, Captain?”