Page 78 of Thief of Souls
I Sift along the hallways of the court, searching for my target. I checked on Keir before I left and found him sleeping, which means this is the perfect opportunity to take. My heart might be in turmoil, but my head is clear.
I can feel her, deep in my heart, stirring, reach for me—
It feels like days of mulling over the court, the gossip, the rumors and lies, has finally cleared the mess in my head.
Malechus has spent the days hunting and drinking, and the night’s debauching himself in his private grotto. I can’t get into his bedchambers, and there’s no sign of Soraya in the rest of the court, but there’s one place I haven’t looked for her.
The grotto.
It’s an old sunken limestone cave that’s been turned into a garden of sorts. Thousands of candles are tucked in nooks and crannies around the walls, and thick vines tumble from the roof. The floor is a carpet of moss and night-blooming flowers, and a little brook babbles somewhere in the distance. Ancient stone sarcophagi line the room. The stone is so old the symbols on them are rubbed bare, but they don’t seem like anything I’ve seen before. Someone whispered that they were the tombs of ancient dragon kings, long since turned to stone, and I haven’t dared asked Keir about it. There was rumor that they opened one of the tombs last night, just to check, and the enormous vault was empty, except for an eerie puff of dust that was unleashed when they levered the lid off it.
Malechus’s debaucheries aren’t for the faint of heart.
I’ve seen the masked recipients coming and going—always from a distance—and there are rumors that Malechus simply pours the rapture on the nearest table and lets his guests fight for it.
A young brunette casts her mask free as she tumbles into the arms of a naked faun, the pair of them vanishing into one of those hidden chambers that line the grotto. Snatching her mask before it hits the ground, I Sift into the shadows and then step out of them. Binding her mask around my face, I check the position of my knives, before I steal a wineglass from a passing tray with no intention of touching it.
I swirl the wine, breathing it in as though I know the difference between whether the berries that brewed it came from the mountainous slopes of the Shadowfangs, or whether it’s low country swill.
Really though, I’m testing for poison.
It’s one of Soraya’s favorite weapons and we spent our youths tasting poisons and antidotes. Even over the scent of a cloying wine I can pick out the faintest hint of hensbane or wolf fever, but this is innocent enough. Adding a little saunter to my stride, I step into the light and join the party. Instantly the music assails me.
Clear head. Clear heart. Clear eyes.
I’m going to need it.
I know she’s here.
I’ve sensed it ever since I woke to that dream.
Malechus stalks into the grotto, his chest bare and a long black silk robe falling from his shoulders. A pair of loose silk trousers hangs low on his hips. It should look ridiculous, but there’s something about the way he moves that makes me suspect he could wear a jester’s bells and still pull it off. Dozens of hands reach for him, and the fae cry out in welcome.
Gorgeous golden sigils are tattooed across his chest. I recognize a crescent moon, a sun, a spear, dozens of others….
“Every single one of those marks represents a fae house that he’s destroyed,” whispers a woman beside me, clearly following my gaze.
“Someone’s ambitious.” There are dozens of them.
“Hungry,” she says, watching Malechus with the same blaze of need in her eyes. But I half suspect she doesn’t desire his body—only his throat. “He was born hungry, that one.” Her mouth twists. “Though some say his father drove him to it.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard of tensions between the king and his son. “Oh?”
The woman smirks and drinks a mouthful of her wine. “His older brother was stronger than he was, and the king spent years pitting them against each other for his love.”
“That doesn’t sound like love to me.”
The woman takes her first full look at me, as if surprised to find someone so naïve here. “Well, the brother’s dead now. Hunting accident, they say. Though Malechusisfond of his hunting…. Now they say he’s starting to see a crown in his future.”
“Is that why the king’s not here?”
“The king wants no part of this mockery. He cast Belladonna out of his court long ago.”
Again, I’m missing threads. But I don’t say it this time. “Have you placed a bet on whether the wedding will take place yet?”
“My money’s on Belladonna,” the woman replies. “I hope she takes them all out. She’s earned a little peace and quiet.”
I stare at Malechus. “Oh, I think she’s making plans to that end. I just hope he’s not going to present too large an obstacle.”
