Page 64 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

“Liar.” He brushed his mouth over her ear. “And we will deal with that later.”

Why, oh why, did she feel the urge to ask him if that was a promise? Surely it was meant to be a warning.

Wasn’t it?

Something in his half-smile made her catch her breath. She kept her gaze on him as the bright colors of costumes and the shimmer of Fae magic swirled around her. It was intoxicating.

He might not underestimate her like the others, but he still thought himself so clever, so good at hiding, so sure that she had forgotten he had stolen a book.

They whirled around the dance floor, and though she did not know the steps, it did not matter in the slightest. They were scandalously close by the standards of Polite Society and not nearly close enough by her own standards. She was clasped against Lachlan’s chest as he spun them around and around. A laugh bubbled in her throat, surprising her. There was something fond in his expression, something she would not have expected.

She did not want the dance to end. She wanted him to keep holding her.

But the spell woke again, a tickle of power.

She stumbled, jostling into a man drinking wine from a seashell and swaying with a satyr with the most rakish grin she had ever seen. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

The satyr winked, full lips curving suggestively. “Me next, lovely.”

Lachlan flicked him a glance. “Careful.”

“Don’t be like that, Thorn,” the satyr added. “We won’t leave you out.”

Lachlan snorted a laugh. “Fuck off, Archimedes.”

“I’m trying.”

Pippa stared at Lachlan. She had never heard him laugh before. She did not have time to enjoy it. “Forgive me,” Lachlan added, all that dangerous intensity focused on her.

Pippa leaned back slightly to see him better. “Why? What are you going to do now?” she asked, mildly exasperated. Trust that her exasperation was one of the few things to make him smile.

“What I must,” he replied.

The last time he had said such a thing, he had kidnapped her. It was not a comforting thought.

Or rather, it shouldn’t be.

Before she could examine that further, a Redcap goblin was dragged into the center of the dance floor by two Fae warriors. The woman was wreathed in sharp light that dazzled the eye. Her companion had thick red hair and an easy smile at odds with the dagger in his grip. The Redcap, tall with a ragged, rust-colored cap, was bound in biting blackthorn vines and iron. His nose was crooked and swollen and there was blood on his face.

His familiar face.

Not just any Redcap. The very one who had tried to push Pippa through a fairy ring to break her oath and be claimed by the Wild Hunt.

Lachlan stood idly, as if he were bored. But no one and nothing could mistake the cold, calculated fury in his gaze for boredom. Thorns glistened among the flowers, poked through the floor, wound around pillars: a silent warning echoing through the masquerade. There was no hiding from him. Fae magic seared the air. It wasn’t the glitter of moonlight or champagne, but the gleam of shining blades dipped in poison. At the ready. Waiting.

One of the owls landed next to Pippa with an imperious slice of his wings. His talons rent lace and spider web. A goblet of wine toppled, unheeded. The resulting stain was shaped like a dagger. Pippa’s fire lurked too near the surface, flushing her skin. She felt both rooted to the ground and desperate to run. To hide. To be anywhere else.

The dancing stopped completely.

The Fae warriors shoved the goblin to his knees.

“I call a blood debt for crimes against mine own.” Lachlan spoke with a deceptive gentleness, but his voice reached every corner of the vast room. Pippa was fairly certain it reached the bowers outside, and all the way to Hallow. Frost crawled on the stones behind him like a crown.

There was a gasp, several excited murmurs. The promise of entertainment, however violent, was always welcome.

Pippa wasn’t sure what a blood debt was, but she was absolutely certain it was not a promising start. Had she really expected a Fae masquerade ball to end any other way? Marriage, mayhem, murder.

“This Redcap moved against a Tithe,” Lachlan continued. “Against my wife.”