A Court of Whispers and Song

Chapter 18

"Dead," Eris groused quietly as the barmaid sauntered off, hips swaying. No doubt both of them would have a chance with her if they'd want. Hell, possibly at the same time. But that door was shut for Azriel in the best way possible. Besides, he suspected her interest would waver if she knew who sat across the table.

A dingy olive-green cloak obscured Eris Vanserra's pointed features, and by the look on the preening prick's face, he couldn't wait to scorch the damn rag to cinders.

A muscle flexed in the Spymaster's jaw. "How?"

Eris snorted, drawing a great swig of ale, grimacing. "What the hell is this? Horse piss?"

"How ?" Azriel repeated with more force. The scrape of several chairs over wood and raised voices had him smoothing his fingertips over the hilt of Truth-Teller at his side. Only a card game dispute. Azriel loosened his grip—but kept it close.

Wall-to-wall suspicious fuckers crammed this seedy ass bar in Sund, the capital of Rask. The only location Eris deemed safe for him to visit since his father was no longer doing business with the fae continent territories. They were all done dealing with Beron Vanserra. Praise the motherfucking Cauldron.

"Burns, of course. And more." He huffed a dark laugh. "My father's guard's signature trifecta. Stabbing. Whipping. Then roasted by the benevolent High Lord himself." Eris's amber eyes focused ahead, unseeing in the distance. Azriel wondered if he could yet see the charred remains.

Godsdammit. Taryn was one of the finest. Cunning. Unassuming. A dreamer to her core.

"How was she caught?" he pressed their rival High Lord's heir-apparent, who became a most unexpected ally. Although Azriel questioned whether either side was in it for the right reasons. Still, he had to give the lordling credit for having the balls to meet with him in person.

"Sneaking around the forest on the border. One of my father's cabals. Not mine." Eris commanded his own men? Good to know. "She confessed nothing. She lasted..." A pregnant pause that answered enough before he continued, "A long while."

A long time was an understatement. It had been a month since Taryn reported last. A week since the body was spotted, discarded like refuse in the snow of the Winter. "I incinerated the body. It would have been too dubious to bring her..."

Azriel nodded in agreement as Eris trailed off. The one saving grace was there would be no meeting with a distraught family. Taryn had ironically left Rask after soldiers slaughtered her people, settling into a job at the pleasure houses in Velaris. Seeing how well she monitored the customers, Az trained her, and she smuggled information on specific patrons.

This task was her first outside of the city limits...

Azriel cleared his throat, rapping his knuckles on the counter, and made to stand.

"But," Eris drawled, stopping Azriel. "I didn't come here empty-handed. I come with a peace offering. My father's man. Jeral." His mouth twisted up into a semblance of a smile, flames flaring in his eyes. "He's currently tied up in my room. And he is all yours, Shadowsinger."

Azriel's shadows retreated as he felt familiar blackness roiling deep inside, begging for release, as his fingers gleefully stroked Truth-Teller at his thigh. "Oh, don't worry, I'll take him off your hands for you."

𝄋

Azriel, please be careful. Her last words to him since he left five days ago. Five days since their last kiss. Every goodbye, whether it was a peck at the door of the library. Or a poignant, deep kiss before departing on a mission from which he may never come back. Each ended with a sweet brush of their lips and a pledge.