Page 62 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

“A throne fit for a princess,” he said, mockery in his tone.

“More like a whore,” Hector said, striding from behind Armand. “She spread her legs for Rothkilde easily enough. I can smell the lycan stench from here.”

Armand shoved me into the chair so hard it skidded on the concrete and started to tip. The first man caught me and slammed the chair onto all four legs so hard my teeth clicked together.

“There you go, princess,” he said, smoothing my hair off my shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I growled, jerking away. The men laughed.

Arlo made a soft sound. When I looked at him, warning gleamed in his dark eyes.

Armand caught the silent communication. “Your friend?” he asked me, gesturing to Arlo. “That was a mistake on your part, human. A Legerdemain demon will slit his own mother’s throat for enough coin.”

I clamped my mouth shut, hatred searing my insides. At the same time, confusion coursed through me. Arlo was just sitting there. He was bound, yes, but he was also capable of pulling weapons out of thin air and locking doors with magic. Why wasn’t he fighting back?

“They’re all thieves and assassins,” Armand said. He went to Arlo and kicked the front leg of Arlo’s chair, knocking it so Arlo faced me. Then he circled the chair and yanked Arlo’s head back. “Duplicity is baked into their bones. But they’re powerful. I’ll give them that.” Armand’s lips curved, his blue eyes cold and flat as he looked at me. “However, the Legerdemain have one glaring weakness. Tie their arms behind their back, and they can’t perform any of their party tricks. If you want to nullify their magic permanently, it’s as easy as chopping their hands off.”

“Don’t!” I cried before I could stop myself. My heart pounded, sending fresh blasts of pain through the knot on my head.

Armand chuckled as he released Arlo’s hair. “Non. Not right now, anyway. I have other business to attend to.”

Footsteps rang out. A man with long, curved horns appeared around the end of a row of metal shelves. Shirtless, he wore a pair of light brown leather pants slung low on his hips. Several beaded necklaces descended to the center of his chest. He was obviously a demon, but his horns were the color of bone, and his features were reptilian. As he neared, I realized the beads on his necklaces were teeth.

My nausea came roaring back. It intensified as I got a better look at his pants. A faded anchor with a rose wrapped around it was inked onto one of his thighs. Because the pants weren’t animal skin. They were human skin.

“Some of that business better be mine,” the demon called out. As he passed Arlo’s chair, Arlo caught sight of him and stiffened.

Armand narrowed his eyes.

The demon’s necklaces clinked softly as he stopped before Armand. “I did my part, Reverdin. Now give me my money so I can be on my way.”

Armand’s eyes grew colder. “Not yet, Urzeb. Three of my wolves are unaccounted for. They were excellent fighters. I want them back. I need a bloodhound.”

Urzeb snarled, displaying curved fangs. When he spoke, a forked tongue flashed in his mouth. “That name is offensive to my people. If you want to find your wolves, find them yourself. I tracked the human female and led you to Draithmere. That was our agreement.”

Tension vibrated in the space between Armand and the demon. My scalp prickled, and my mouth went dry as I held my breath. In the corner of my vision, Hector and one of the other werewolves eased forward.

Urzeb’s nostrils flared. He kept his gaze pinned on Armand, but there was no question he was aware of the wolves closing in on him.

“If you kill me, Reverdin,” he said softly, “you’ll die screaming on a Scorab table as my kin dine on your flesh.”

The air itself seemed to hold its breath. I waited, my heart racing, prepared for violence to break out.

Finally, Armand snapped his fingers. “Fine. You’ll have your payment.” As Hector moved forward and placed a velvet bag in his hand, Armand glowered at Urzeb. “But don’t expect to do business with me again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Urzeb said. He tested the bag’s weight in his palm, then withdrew a gold coin and examined it. Apparently satisfied, he replaced the coin and then turned to Arlo. “Should I give my regards to the Legerdemain when I return to Durzu? I can pass a message along if you like.”

Arlo glared at him. Ghostly horns flickered around his head.

Urzeb laughed. “Nothing to say, princeling? I suppose you’re not allowed to speak unless Rothkilde gives his permission.” He tossed the bag of coins into the air and then caught it. “Being a lycan’s lapdog must pay well.”

Menace glittered in Arlo’s eyes. “You and I will meet again one day. I vow it. And your bones will litter the plains of Durzu.”

Urzeb smirked, but something like wariness flitted through his eyes, the emotion there and gone so quickly I couldn’t be certain I’d seen it.

“Doubtful,” he told Arlo. “You’ve always been a disgrace. Unworthy of your father’s name. Perhaps that’s why you hide on this plane with the stink of humans clogging your nose.” Urzeb turned back to Armand and swept a mocking bow. “It’s been a pleasure, Reverdin.” Straightening, he disappeared.

For a moment, Armand was still and silent, his gaze on the spot where Urzeb had stood. “Put her on her stomach,” he said finally.

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