Before running off in search of Ruadan, I returned to the beautiful room I’d shared with Melusine for a hot bath.

Now, I wanted to stay in the warm, bubbling bath forever. It smelled of wildflowers and moss in here. Home.

When I sank deeper into the warmth, a vision bloomed in my mind—my dream palace, with the river and the sweet scent of apples. I felt safe there.

Steam curled around me.

Sadly, I was supposed to leave this lovely room. The Old Gods had decided that I should sleep in the same room as a silent assassin who slaughtered his novices, and who was I to argue with gods?

I dried myself off, my gaze roaming over the scars that marred my arms, my abdomen. My chest, too. Basically, my skin was a wreck, but I was proud of it. Every inch of jagged, raised flesh was proof of my ability to survive. There was a crooked scar below my belly button, where a vampire had stabbed me with a sword. A deep divot by my collarbone where a hellhound had impaled me with a spear. My arms, covered in grooves and ridges from a hundred sword fights. And most importantly—the deep scar on the inside of my right wrist where Baleros had branded me with his symbol. As soon as I’d escaped the arena, I’d cut the brand off.

If I’d been human, many of these wounds would have killed me.

I wrapped the towel around myself and gazed at my face in the steamy mirror. The hot bath had pinkened my cheeks, and the water had slicked my long eyelashes into black peaks. My amber eyes looked bright in the late morning light.

At least my gladiator opponents had left my face unmarked. 

I knew a woman was never supposed to admit when she thought she was beautiful. It was a mortal sin. Everyone hates a woman who likes how she looks, and women are especially reviled if they’re flawed and still have the balls to feel beautiful. Covered in scars, not the right shape, wrong hair—whatever. You’re supposed to feel bad about it. So I just kept my thoughts about it to myself. I was scarred; I was beautiful, and I didn’t need to know what anyone else thought about the matter.

Baleros’s eighth law of power: Conceal your true intentions.

Considering I had nothing else to wear yet, I’d managed to wash my clothes in the bathtub. Then, I’d hung them out the window to dry in the sun, but they were still damp when I pulled them on. The fabric clung to my skin.

I crossed into the mossy bedroom one last time, already dreading having to hunt down Ruadan.

On the way out the door, I threw my bug-out bag over my shoulder. Ruadan had taken all my knives from me, so if he tried to murder me in my sleep, I’d be at a slight disadvantage. But he’d left me with the lighter and aerosolized deodorant. I guess makeshift flamethrowers weren’t one of the ancient fae traditions.

As I hurried down the stairs, I wondered who Baleros’s “eyes” were in the Institute. And why hadn’t he asked them to steal the World Key for him? Why did he need me to do it?

I crossed outside into the bright air. On the lush, wildflower-covered green, I sniffed the air. The scents of bluebells, orchids, and fresh grass overwhelmed me. But layered under those—pine. Ruadan’s scent. I started moving, my pulse already racing at the thought of seeing the Wraith again. I tracked his smell across the green, and it grew more powerful as I walked. The sunlight warmed my skin.

At last, the scent of pine led me to a circular tower with thin arrow slits and diamond-paned windows at the top. It stood near a low stone gate that opened to the river. I was pretty sure that long ago, human monarchs had ferried traitors through it, from the Thames into the Tower. Once through the gate, they’d never taste freedom again.

Right now, I felt a strong sense of kinship with those poor souls.

I circled the tower’s base until I found a black, studded door, and I pushed through it into a stark stairwell.

As I climbed the winding stairs, I reviewed my mission. I had to stay focused on the World Key, without ever giving away my true intentions. I needed Ruadan to let down his guard around me, which right now seemed like it would be nearly impossible.

How would I earn the trust of the demonic assassin, someone so hell-bent on slaughtering his enemies that he wouldn’t speak until he’d achieved the task?

My footsteps echoed off the stone tower walls.

Baleros’s tenth law of power: Always think three steps ahead.

Once I’d stolen from the Wraith, what the fuck was my exit strategy?

I didn’t have one. Even if I managed to kill Ruadan before I made it out of here, in itself a difficult task, I’d then find myself with the entire Order of Shadow Fae hunting me down to the ends of the earth until they meted out a gruesome death.

At this point, I was deeply regretting having never learned the ancient fae art of glamour. Though maybe even that wouldn’t help protect me as a fugitive on the run from the Shadow Fae.

I swallowed hard, following Ruadan’s masculine scent down a long, vaulted hallway. Maybe I could steal the World Key without anyone here noticing it was me.

What if I found a way to pin the crime on the prince? Two birds, one stone.

Baleros’s eleventh law of power: Use the destruction of your enemies to achieve your own goals.

At last, the scent of pine led me to a door at the end of the hall. I sucked in a deep breath, then knocked. After a moment, Ruadan pulled it open. He glared down at me, silver flashing in his eyes.

For the first time, I saw him without his cloak on. He wore knives strapped to his waist, and a sword on his back. His shirt hugged his body, which looked thickly corded with muscle. I could see a few scars on the exposed skin of his wrists. Every inch of him was a warrior, and I got the sense that he was old. I wondered how many battles he’d fought over the centuries, how many lives he’d taken. It was hard not to feel small and vulnerable as I stood in front of him—a feeling I was not at all accustomed to.

Coldness gleamed in his eyes, and the vicious glare he was giving me slid right through my bones. No wonder the Shadow Fae terrified everyone.

I loosed a breath, trying desperately to ignore the instinct that told me to run away from him as fast as I could. “Looks like we’re matched. I can see by the look on your face that you’re as thrilled as I am.”

That look kept me rooted in place, and I willed my breathing to slow down. I tried to imagine my frantic heart beating a little slower. I had to gain control.

He pulled the door open wider, and I crossed into the room. Ruadan’s room was more sparsely decorated than the one I’d slept in last night. A perfect match for his effervescent personality.

There was no moss on this floor—just stark, gray stone. And in here, no flowers grew. Instead, flecks of jet-black rocks gleamed in the stone walls. His bed seemed to rise from the stone floor itself, as if the ancient flagstones had sprouted a resting spot just for him. Likewise, a small stone table seemed to grow from the floor, along with seats surrounding it.

The fae had altered so much of this place with their nature magic. Truthfully, it was all more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen. Even this bleak design.

A bureau stood on one side of the room—and on the other, Ruadan’s arsenal hung on the wall: axes, swords, crossbows, knives…. Ruadan had about forty-seven different ways to kill people in here.

I let out a low whistle. “Well, Ruadan, love what you’ve done with the place. Charming and quaint as fuck.”

He simply stared at me. A phantom wind whispered into the room, toying with a lock of his pale blond hair. I felt a pulse of his dark magic ripple over me, rushing over my skin in cold, electric tingles. My back arched at the raw power, pulse racing out of control. I willed myself to calm down again, breathing more slowly, and it took me a moment to compose myself.

I pointed at the bed. “I notice there’s only one bed.”

His posture was rigid. When I’d first met him, he’d projected a detached disinterest. Now, he stared at me with a sort of disturbing, intense curiosity, like I was an alien species he wanted to eviscerate and study. I couldn’t say it was a warm look.

Good. I just wanted him to get the hell out of the room, so I could search it from top to bottom. The World Key might be in here. Perhaps I could use his distaste for me to drive him out of here.

I slipped out of my boots, then sauntered over to his bed. I sat on the edge, and I unzipped my bug-out bag. I rifled past matches, candles, and chocolate bars until I found a bottle of Jack buried at the bottom.

Aengus had said I wasn’t the sort of recruit Ruadan would like—that he hated slobs, drunks, fuck-ups, bar-brawlers, wastes of space…. Maybe that was the best way to get a little alone time in here.

It was also possible that I was really good at finding excuses to justify drinking alcohol.

In any case, I took a sip of bourbon, reveling in the warm tingle down my throat. Then, another, longer sip.

I handed it to Ruadan, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. “Here. I think maybe you could use some of this. You’ve obviously got your knickers in a twist about something, and this might help.”

Strands of his dark magic lashed the air around him. Then, he pivoted, stalking out of the room.

Beautifully done, Arianna. Let no one say that the ability to piss people off wasn’t within my skill set.

And now, I had a World Key to find. I wanted to get Ciara the hell out of that room.