Page 63 of Kill the Beast
He was gone.
Did he leave on his own? Or…
Or had Honoria been a distraction for Lyssa, while some other Hound-warden kidnapped Alderic?
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck,fuck.
Lyssa sprinted from the room, running down the stairs rather than bothering with the mechanical lift again. She was breathless by the time she got to the front desk. The clerk from the night before was there; a look of disgust flitted over his face at the sight of her, though he quickly smoothed it into a mask of professionalism.
“How may I assist you?” he asked.
“Have you seen my companion?” she gasped. “Long blond hair—”
“Mr. de Laurent is currently enjoying himself in our lounge,” the clerk said, gesturing toward a glass door withPLAZALOUNGEpainted on it in gold letters.
Lyssa crossed the lobby and flung open the door, ignoring the dirty looks the other patrons lobbed at her as she loped inside, eyes darting across the tables, couches, and divans arrayed around the lavish room. The air glittered with reflected light from the three crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, twinkling off glasses and silverware, making it hard for her to see.
Finally, she spotted a column of ice-blond hair at one of the tables near the glossy black-marble bar at the far end. Sure enough, it was Alderic, attracting scandalized glances of his own—he was swaying like he was trying to keep his balance on a storm-tossed ship instead of being seated in a velvet-cushioned chair, and when he tried to prop his elbow on the table, he missed and almost smacked his chin on it instead. He looked half a drink away from passing out on the hand-painted tile floor, but seemed otherwise unharmed.
Thank the Blessed Lady.
Lyssa plopped down in the empty velvet chair across from his. There were half a dozen empty glasses lined up beside his plate, and he looked like he was about to throw up.
“I hear you and Honoria had a little chat while I was gone,” she said, glaring around at the other patrons until they turned back to their meals. She didn’t see any obvious Hound-wardens intheir midst, but it was hard to tell sometimes. Many of their geas-marks were hidden beneath clothing, and rich city-goers typically thought it too provincial—and embarrassingly superstitious—to wear iron talismans, even after the incident at Buxton Fields. All of the victims had been low-class, after all. “What did you two talk about?” Lyssa kept her tone light, but inside she was seething.
When Alderic only blinked at her, struggling against the tide of overpriced cocktails trying to drag him under the table, she snapped her fingers in his face. “Wake up.”
He flinched, and met her stare with glassy eyes. “She wants me to un-hire you, and join the Hound-wardens instead,” he slurred.
“And what did you tell her?”
“I told her to fuck off.”
It was always so strange to hear expletives come out of his mouth. “In a polite way, I’m sure,” she said.
“No,” he said, shaking his head so hard that the ends of his hair landed in the sauce on his plate. “I believe my exact words were: fuck off.”
“And you didn’t tell her anything that might… compromise our endeavors?” she asked. “Like where to find the Beast, or the map that would lead her straight to it?”
He scowled. “Why would I?”
Lyssa let out a long breath, shaky with relief and the last vestiges of adrenaline. So, Honoria was as clueless as Lyssa was. It didn’t make her any less of a threat, especially given what she knew, but at least she wouldn’t be able to go steal the Beast out from under them while they finished gathering ingredients for the sword. “Well, that’s good. Most men would have seen that dress and—”
“I thought you would have figured out by now that I am notmost men,” Alderic said. His eyes blazed with anger, and it seemed to burn off a little of the alcohol; he managed not to slur a single word. “The Beast took everything from me, and you expect me to change my mind because of some cleavage?”
She tried to crush the little tendril of affection she felt at his words, and failed. “Forgive me for doubting you.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he snapped.
“Looking for you. You weren’t in your room.”
“I needed a change of scenery.”
“Ah,” she said, as if his desire to relocate hadn’t caused her a moment of intense panic. “Did you spend any time at all thinking of your personal concern today, or were youentirelyfocused on getting drunk?”
“I didn’t get drunk until I came down here,” he said defensively.
