each other and helped each other: this wool merchant used his daughters’ skills for his own gain, with no care for their welfare or desires. She had to consider her relationship with the Dark Queen. Maeve had never asked what Rania wanted herself. She’d made suggestions and offered a deal, but even her gifts—like the kiss of death—were granted so that Rania could better serve the Dark Queen’s will. No one had ever asked what she wanted, or helped her to achieve a goal of her own.
She bit her lip, wondering how much that mattered. It mattered to Hadrian and the Pyr. Should it matter to her?
The view moved closer, past Olaf and over Notus’ shoulder. There was frost gathering on the edges of the window and snow dancing between Notus and the view of his mate. Rania saw the slender woman at the spinning wheel, her eyes alight as she listened to Notus courting her. She never slowed in her work, though she smiled at his attention.
The chamber was sparsely furnished, with only a bed, a pail and a small table. It looked more like a prison to Rania. There was a bucket of icicles beside the maiden and she took each one in turn, spinning it into a long strand of silver. She wore a heavy coat and gloves with the fingertips cut off, her face pale with the chill of the room. The silver was coiled on the floor, like gleaming wire, and rolled into chests stacked against the walls. Her hands moved deftly and Rania could sense her uncertainty of Notus.
She couldn’t blame her, either. He probably just wanted sex.
“Argenta hadn’t been allowed to mingle in society since her gift had been revealed, for her father feared she might be stolen away. As a result, she was wary of men, particularly the handsome man who came to her window each night, intent upon charming her. Notus told her stories, though, and prompted her laughter, courting her affection. He made steady progress, and that was compounded by the firestorm, which turned Argenta’s thoughts to love and romance. After two weeks of clandestine visits, she surrendered to his appeal.”
Rania watched Argenta abandon her spinning. She glanced toward the door as if fearing a reprimand, then shyly came to the window. Her eyes glowed with happiness as she approached Notus and Rania wished she could hear the words they exchanged. Argenta’s smile was quick and her blush was enchanting. She moved quickly then, putting her hand upon that of Notus on the sill and leaning against the bars for their first kiss. The firestorm flared to brilliant white and Rania heard Notus catch his breath at its power.
This would be the true measure of the firestorm. What would Notus do after it was satisfied? Would Argenta be abandoned once she carried his child?
This was the part where the myth would have to give way to the truth. Rania leaned forward to make sure she didn’t miss a word.
Hadrian heard the rumble of Alasdair’s voice from his lair and knew that his cousin was telling a story, using his gift as a fog dragon to show it at the same time. He smiled to himself, halfway wishing he was there to watch and listen.
He was surprised that his mate had agreed to listen, but maybe his cousin was more persuasive than he’d managed to be. Either way, he’d make use of every possible moment he had left.
Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of Hadrian’s neck. He was in the act of landing another blow on the last of the talons but his hammer never struck.
He was frozen, trapped in a single moment. He was motionless and couldn’t do anything about it. The weight of the hammer made his muscles strain in his shoulder but he couldn’t drop it, put it down, or lift it to a more comfortable position. Alasdair’s voice had silenced, too, and the clock on the wall was no longer ticking.
The silver light in the periphery of his vision gave him a good idea why.
Someone grabbed his elbow and spun him around in place, like a mannequin in a store window. It was a Fae warrior, a big blond one who looked faintly familiar. He turned Hadrian so that the Pyr was facing one of his own worktables. Maeve sat on the table, legs crossed. She was wearing a black suit with feathers around the collar, and wore high-heeled shoes. One foot swung as she