only served their twisted masters at night. While it had flesh to strike, in death—which happened with decapitation or gutting—it turned back into the thing it spawned from. A pile of smelly swamp shit.
The figure turned, pulling back a hood at the same time. “He finally awakens.” A piercing gaze met his in a face more striking than beautiful. Her cheekbones held a sharp slant, her nose flowed straight, and her chin pointed. Her lips were full and mocking. Her eyes, dark and mesmerizing.
“Are you done staring?”
“If I say no…” He arched a brow.
“The question was rhetorical. Are you the king?”
He wondered who she was. He sent his mind seeking, but somehow she prevented him from seeing. “Who’s asking?”
“Are you or are you not?”
“I’m a little insulted you don’t recognize me.” Then again, for all their modern amenities, only the city had access to the paper and machines that might show a picture of him.
“I’m not from around here.”
“Obviously.” He’d remember those flashing eyes and that face. How had he ever thought she wasn’t beautiful? The woman had regal features that appealed, as did those full lips. “Roark the First at your service,” he said with a mocking bow.
“You’re the king?” Her nose wrinkled. “I expected someone older. More distinguished.” Her disdain was apparent in the uttered words.
“Sorry to disappoint.” For some reason, his lips curved.
Not an ounce of fear marked her expression. She appeared rather relaxed, enough that she sheathed her knives. “I’m used to being disappointed. Can’t all be as great as me.” A sarcastic taunt.
“I’d say your greatness is still to be determined.”
“Says the man who was sleeping while a monster prepared to kill him.”
“It would have failed.”
“Says you. Even now I have to wonder at your sense of self-preservation. I’m a stranger in your room.” She cocked her head. “How come you haven’t called for your guards?”
“Why would I?” He wasn’t worried yet, even if he’d not found a way around the cloudy edge that muffled his ability to scan. Was she the one doing it? That would make her most interesting.
“Usually the higher placed you are, the less capable you become of wiping your own ass.”
His lips twitched again. “I assure you I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what rumor says.” She half turned from him and paced a bit away, glancing around the space, inspecting it he’d wager.
“Did the rumors tell you it’s a bad idea to come into my room without an invitation?”
She cast him an amused glance. “You aren’t going to hurt me.”
“Who says it would hurt? Usually when a woman is in my room, it means pleasure.” He’d managed to shock her, he noticed. She couldn’t completely hide her sharp inhale of breath.
“I’m not a whore here to amuse you. Lay a hand on me, and you will lose it.”
The truth of that statement hit him, and she became even more intriguing. Roark eyed the woman. “Who are you? What are you? Assassin? Spy?”
“How about a bit of everything.” Her smile held secrets. “Name is Casey, of Haven. I was hired by Titan to be your new bodyguard.”
The answer proved rather unexpected. He stared at her, a slight crease tugging his brow. “I told him I didn’t want a bodyguard.”
“Never said I was guarding you. I’m here for your daughter.”
This woman thought she could protect Charlotte? He eyed her and the knives by her side. He’d wager she had more weapons hidden on her body. She couldn’t seriously expect him to let her near his child without proof of her intention. “I will need verification of your identity.”
“Titan will confirm.”
“Titan’s not here,” he growled.
“Then you’ll have to take my word.”
“Why would I? You say you’re here to protect my daughter and yet”—he swept his hand—“this is my room. Not Charlotte’s. And you happened to invade it at the same time as that swamp golem.”
“Is that what you call it?” she muttered. “We have something similar in the Wasteland. But it’s made more of sand than muck. Hard to kill without fire and light. I’ve never heard of them being used as assassins.”
“Then count yourself lucky. We have rogue swamp mages who think nothing of using them to strike terror.”
“Swamp mage? Why does that sound familiar?” She snapped her fingers. “You mean like the guy that attacked Gunner the first time he came through. Can all of them send golems out to do their bidding?”
“Not all. Some have different skills.” He eyed her. “My turn to ask questions. Prove who you are.