Page 58 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

Loren’s eyes shifted to a starstruck Bast who hovered nearby, nervously clutching his velvet cap in his hands. He’d nearly shredded its feather beyond repair, completely oblivious to the fact he was anxiously plucking at the plume while staring up at Loren with absolute adoration.

“Who’s your friend?” Loren asked, his lips hitching up.

“Oh, allow me to introduce you to—”

Before Ronan had a chance to finish his introduction, Bast cleared his throat and swept into his most elegant bow. “Sebastian Jean-Rene Villehardouin of Colvers, at your service. But please, call me Bast.”

“Nice to meet you, Bast.”

His friend nearly vibrated with pleasure at the sound of his name on his idol’s lips. His praise was effusive as he began prattling on like he’d never been intimidated at all. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've been following your accomplishments with great interest.”

“Is that so? I do love meeting a fan,” Loren said, leaning forward and giving Bast his full attention. “What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, the time you slayed the sea monster. Without question.”

“Which time?” Loren asked with a flirtatious quirk of his brow. “There’s been several.”

Ronan half-expected Bast to clam up given how he’d acted earlier, but he shouldn’t have been surprised the opposite was true. Flirting was practically the man’s first language. He was more comfortable than ever when he held Loren’s gaze and murmured, “You do know your way around atentacle,don’t you?”

“I consider myself an expert.”

Realizing he’d just become an unwanted third wheel, Ronan stepped away without another word, leaving the men to their mutual worship of Loren and his many exploits.

Ronan couldn’t help but chuckle as he made his way toward the bar. Leave it to Bast to abandon him at the first sign of a willing bed partner. Not that he was surprised. The man had a fucking gift for turning any conversation into a seduction. More power to him. Maybe he’d learn something about Loren over the course of the evening that Ronan could use to his advantage later on. If so, Sebastian might just turn out to be his secret weapon.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t see the robed figure until he walked into him. It was a reminder that he needed to stay focused. This was not the time or place to be getting sloppy.

“Apologies,” Ronan said, taking a couple steps back.

“It was my fault,” the man replied smoothly, his eyes an unnerving shade of deep red. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Cedric Aldair.”

“The blood mage,” Ronan said, wondering if the man had purposely run into him in order to gain an introduction. It was a move he’d used himself many times before, especially when wanting to gather access to a mark. The reminder had him instantly on guard.

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“That is usually the case for men with gifts like ours.”

“Mages are rare in this part of the continent. You’re only the third I’ve come across, and I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered any with command over the elements. Is fire your only one, or can you control the others as well?”

Ronan gave him a tight-lipped smile which Cedric returned, though it was noticeably cooler.

“I don’t mean to pry. I’m simply curious. I’ll give you a little demonstration if you return the favor.”

Learning how Cedric worked his gift would be valuable intel, but Ronan didn’t trust the man as far as Bast could throw him.

“Maybe some other time,” he said, with a slight incline of his head. “My friend is waiting for me.”

Then he stepped around the blood mage and headed to the other side of the room, intending to snag a table near Dichen while they waited for Dmitri to show up and finally tell them why he’d summoned them. Ronan was betting they were going to learn what was required for the next trial but lost his train of thought when his eyes landed on Shadow. She was hunched over her table, expression pensive, drink untouched. She wore her pale hair pulled up into a messy bun, several long strands falling out and making her appear far more innocent than an assassin queen had any right to.

Realizing this might be his only chance to speak to her, he booked it in her direction, but before he made it halfway, fingers lightly grazed his arm. It was too intentional a caress to be ignored, so he checked his steps and glanced down, whatever he was about to say dying on his lips as his eyes found Camille’s.

She looked pointedly at the empty table next to him. Not mistaking the demand—for it was certainly not a request—Ronan took a seat.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as she set a stein filled with amber liquid in front of him. “You moonlighting as a server now?”

“I’m whatever I need to be,” she said, giving him a look that spoke volumes.

Not only did it say he should know better than to ask stupid questions, it confirmed a suspicion he’d had ever since she’d mentioned attending the High Lord’s party. As far as he knew, only the competitors and Glimmermere’s social elite had been in attendance. There was no reason Camille should have been invited, unless she had ties to the High Lord.

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