Page 43 of Thief of Dreams
I'd thought her stories were just that.
But it suddenly occurs to me: What is the best place to hide a relic of such immense power?
You twist the tale. Change the story. TheDragon's Heart. It's been right there in front of me the entire time.
Nobody knows what truly happened to the dragons—the stories are lost to history—but I know they slowly faded from the world. Some say they turned to stone, some say they sought the stars, and some say….
"What areyou?" I whisper.
Again, a faint mocking smile. "You're not the one asking the questions."
But his eyes glint gold—dragon gold—and I can't help remembering the other part of the stories. Dragons are invulnerable. Nobody knows how the ancient fae defeated them.
But what if the stories lie?
What if therewasno defeat?
What if Calliope was telling the truth?
My gaze slips to his open shirt and the hard planes of his chest. He admitted he created this Other World himself, and I assumed he used the relic to do it, but if I'm right, then he would have the power of such creation at his fingertips.
Mother of Mercy.
I try to scramble backward and the chair scrapes on the tiles, but Keir merely clenches his fist.
My chair squeals as I'm hauled directly in front of him.
Keir grabs me by the wrists, his long fingers locking around the cuffs there. Heat spills through me as his magic slides across my skin like a caress. "I've heard what you've had to say. Now it's my turn. You owe me. I will offeryoua deal. Your life, your freedom, in exchange for a year and a day of service."
Service? It sounds like a trap. "What do you want me to do?"
"Something similar to what you do now. I may ask you to fetch me something. I may ask for information. I may ask you to betray your precious king. And when I do, you'll give it to me."
"I won't kill for you."
"Agreed."
"And you won't hurt me? You won't allow me tobehurt?"
His eyes seem shadowed in thought. "Not by me or mine. I cannot stop someone else from putting an arrow through your back."
It's the best I'm going to get.
I consider the cuffs.
A year and a day of service, as according to the old laws. In return, my head remains on my shoulders. I've been offered worse terms before.
"I'm not saying no," I mutter. "But there's a slight complication. I owe a similar debt to the Wraith King. I can't deny him outright."
"I'm not certain this is my problem."
Of course not. Typical fae prince. "Then I'm dead and of no use to you."
Our gazes lock.
He considers it. "Then I will allow you to work around the debt you owe your king."
"Agreed," I whisper.
