Page 56 of The Crimson Throne
Damn.
I need information. And my best bet of getting that is still Alyth. Possibly Joseph, if Alyth’s set against me from this necklace.
My stomach’s all cramped by the time I make it to my room. The castle’s gone cool and dark in the late hour, and as I let myself in, I release a breath and, with it, my facade.
There’s a fire going in my hearth already, warming my room upnice. I’ve got a fine bed with a canopy and a table in the corner, my bags already set on a chair near it. Once the door shuts, I strip off my doublet and shirt and consider dumping the pitcher of water near the washbowl straight over my head so that shock of cold can reset my brain. But exhaustion and a mild headache overtake me, and all I want is to sleep.
I stare down at my bags of supplies. Should I write to Cecil, update him? I don’t actually give a rat’s arse if he knows what I’m doing, but I still need him to break the curse on me once I find the fae object.
It seemed so possible when I left London. I was so damn hopeful.
But none of this is even close to simple, and Cecil absolutely knew what a mess I’d be coming up into, this war between Mary and Darnley. Did Cecil send me specifically because I’m so English that I’d catch Darnley’s attention?
Anger flares up in me, a sharp, sudden spike. But it doesn’t go any higher, just roils around in my sternum until I march the length of the room, like pacing will drive my headache away. The flames blaze brighter in a gust of wind through the chimney, and I brace my hands against the mantle, letting the heat scald my bare chest.
That necklace swings free, casting shadows in the light, and I glare down at it, watching it sway.
Something sharp presses to my lower back.
“Give me that amulet,” comes Alyth’s voice. “Now.”
My pulse lurches, sets a quicker pace. Not out of fear; I’m stretched too thin for that.
Because she’s in my room. At night. And I’m half dressed.
The fact that she’s got a knife on me should dissuade at least some of that, but try telling that to my heart.
Deliberately, I lift my hands from the mantel in surrender and turnto face her. The tip of the blade drags lightly across my back, around my hip, and rests just above the dip of my navel.
The fire hits her full on, throws me in shadows. But she can see me, I know she can, in that odd way of hers where she’s not seeing me in the physical. She’s in the same gown from earlier, simple and functional, meant to keep her from being noticed. That’s everything about her demeanor in public: not wanting to be noticed, not wanting to draw attention. It works for her somehow, which is the weirdest thing I’ve encountered being here, how this whole bloody court could let this woman pass unseen among them. She’s so bright, gleaming even when she’s got her mask on, even when she’s holding that knife to my stomach.
There are three cats with her. My eyes go to the door, but it’s shut. I didn’t even hear her creep in. And what’s with the cats? Did they follow her?
I focus back on Alyth. “Didn’t take you for the thieving sort. I’ve not got a lot of value on me.” I bob my head, referring to my shirtless state, and give a coy smirk. “You’ve caught me a bit indecent.”
Her knife bobs slightly, dragging down, falling in the hollow of my belly button. It isn’t until her eyes—those dark eyes—drop, see the knife resting there, that a tidal rush of shivers sets off, peppering goose bumps over my skin.
She quickly fixates on that necklace.
“The amulet,” she repeats. “Now.”
My grin wavers. “Why? What’s it to you?”
Do you know what this is?
I drop my eyes to that dagger in her grip. It doesn’t have the glow about it that fae magic items do, and my shoulders droop with relief. Though feeling grateful I’m being threatened with aregularknife is a bit foolish.
“Give it to me,” she says through her teeth.
I put one hand on the necklace. “My father gave me this. It’s got great sentimental value. You’ve no—”
“I know it’s from Lady Lennox,” she snaps. “I know it’s got something to do with Darnley. And I’m telling you that I will not allow Red Cap magic in my home.”
The cats let out incensed mews. The air fills with the smell of ash and charred wood, and the flames turn scorching at my back, making me hiss and jump a step forward.
It puts me up against her blade again.
Up closer to her.
