Page 158 of The Call of Crimson
“How do you know he was a spy?” Elijah asks.
“Some of your guards are idiots,” Cillian says bluntly. “The spy approached them in my brothel, of all places. They were drunk, and I heard them answering questions about sensitive matters of the crown.”
Elijah curses under his breath.
“Needless to say, you’ll also find yourself short a few guards when you do roll call tomorrow.”
“You really should have turned them in for questioning and discipline,” Elijah says, jaw tight.
“Not really my style.” Cillian shrugs, inspecting his nails and picking at some speck only he could see. “They were guilty of treason, and I passed the sentence.”
“Did you happen to catch where the spy was from?” I ask.
“Not exactly, but I know it’s not from any of the four kingdoms.”
Elijah’s brow raises. “How do you know that?”
Cillian crouches next to the body, brushing the hair back away from his ear, revealing an elongated point. “The last time I checked, nobody around here had ears like this.”
I gasp. “Was he Fae?”
The spy’s elongated canines peek out through parted lips. Other subtle features stand out now, details that had blended in before.
Cilian crosses his arms, leaning casually against the wall. “I’m no expert, but I’d say it’s a distinct possibility.”
“How was he able to go unnoticed?” Elijah asks, his brow furrowing.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Cillian says. “He had some type of magical cloak over his features, making him appear like one of us.”
Elijah’s eyes narrow. “Then how did you know about his ears if they were cloaked?”
“Gods, you’re dense.” Cillian lets out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t know about them before I arrived here. Whatever magic he had must have died with him. I only noticedafterOphelia ended him. Were you even paying attention?”
“My sincerest apologies for being more concerned with Ophelia in that moment,” Elijah responds, his voice sharp with sarcasm.
“See, this is why you’d make a terrible mercenary.”
I stifle a laugh at Cillian’s mildly inappropriate humor in the middle of a serious conversation.
“It’s a good thing I have no interest in being a mercenary. I’ll leave that to you,Your Highness,” Elijah says with a dry smile.
“Why, thank you,Your Majesty,” Cillian drawls, sweeping into a mocking bow.
Elijah throws him a crude gesture, shaking his head at Cillian’s jest.
Cillian just grins.
“Dispose of the body,” Elijah demands. “Discreetly.”
“No problem. My hounds need fresh meat, given the kingdom-wide food shortage.”
At the sound of Cillian’s sharp whistle, the mercenary from before enters and hoists the body on his shoulder like it were a sack of flour and not a fully grown Fae male.
“Until next time, Elijah.” Cillian salutes, turning to leave.
He stops next to me, close enough that I can smell each note of his masculine scent. Spice, vanilla, and something dark.
“Don’t worry, Goddess,” Cillian whispers. “Your secret is safe with me.” His hot breath pebbles the flesh on my neck, turning my stomach at the implication of his words.
