Page 31 of Thief of Souls
They torment my dreams, and when I wake in the morning, I find myself no better rested. I’ve spent hours being chased through the Court of Dreams by a rabid wolf, and every time I think I’ve escaped pursuit, I burst into a room and there it is again.
Waiting to devour me.
The sooner I find my sister and the horn, the better.
The first candidate on my list of suspects to question is Lady Anissa. Soraya pretended to be her lady’s maid. I don’t know what sort of deal she struck with the fae lady, but I do know Soraya prefers blackmail.
“Trust is a knife waiting for your back. I’d rather have a noose around their throats,” she once purred.
And yet Lady Anissa is clearly not Soraya’s target.
For one thing, she’s still alive.
For another, you don’t ingratiate yourself in the household when you’re planning to kill someone. You’d be the first suspect. No, you plant yourself in a household that will give you access to your target’s household.
So someone Anissa knows.
Soraya’s rooms are locked. I try the handle early the next morning before continuing on as though I’ve merely lost my way to the breakfast room. Also unusual, for she’s been replaced with a brownie that Lady Anissa spends half her days harassing, and it would be expected that the brownie would be given the rooms Soraya used.
But she hasn’t.
Which means I need to get inside to see what they’re hiding.
Maybe Anissa wasn’t Soraya’s target, but that doesn’t mean that the constantly vexed brunette didn’t ensure Soraya went missing.
I eye my target over teacakes and scones.
Anissa is a minor scion of the Court of Dawn; a random cousin of the king there. Her gown bares her shoulders—which appears to be the latest of fashions—but it’s made from silk that looks like last year’s pattern. Cut down perhaps, in order to appear new, which tells me she doesn’t have as much wealth as she pretends, and yet, she’s desperate to mingle with the elite and pretend to be one of them. Gossip tells me she’s ventured to the Court of Blood several times this year, ostensibly on trade business. There’s some suspicion she’s got her eye on Malechus and may even be in his bed already, but when the prince himself appears, she doesn’t even glance toward him.
Considering she was seated at the far end of the hall last night, I have to imagine Belladonna—who would have laid out the dining arrangements—has little liking for her.
Few have surfaced after last night, and so I spend the afternoon adding names and faces to my repertoire.
There’s no sign of the Lord of Mistmark, who is someone else I want to acquaint myself with most desperately. Nor is the blushing bride here.
And Keir is currently making several women laugh. Maybe he said something outrageously funny, but I doubt it. The ruse is working. He’s barely looked at me. I am out of favor, left on the sidelines to my own devices. One of the women cuts me a sidelong glance as she daringly strokes his sleeve.
He didn’t return last night.
I know, because I spent half the night tossing and turning, before I finally slammed the pillow over my head and fell asleep.
I make my excuses and leave the tea party.
Before I punch her pretty white teeth through the back of her head.
* * *
Find what happened to Soraya,and you find the horn.
I haul my mask over my face as I climb through the window in my room, and then look toward the bridal suite in the eastern tower that the Lord of Mistmark has been given. The mask is glamored to make me invisible in the night, even when I’m not Sifting.
I barely saw the Lord of Mistmark today. Just a distant figure dressed in strict black as he swung a pretty blonde in a red gown around the dance floor tonight. There were too many nobles between us—every fae in the kingdom trying to gain his favor, for he’s the toast of the court this week.
Perhaps it’s a good thing.
I’m a little too curious about him.
What sort of man conjures mercy in my merciless sister’s heart? What kind of lord could even capture her attention, let alone any tender feelings?
