admitted with disgust. “I don’t know and I don’t actually care. I can’t risk losing the tool of this assassin, which creates an opportunity for you.” She took a deep breath and straightened, then held his gaze as she drained her glass. “One task in exchange for my breaking the Fae charm on the lock to your library.”
“A limited time offer.”
“I’ll make it impossible for the charm to be renewed. The key Micah claimed from you won’t work anymore. Only the original will do.”
“I prefer to pick the lock.”
She nodded. “That will work as well.”
“For how long,” Sebastian asked, sipping his drink in an attempt to disguise his interest.
“Forever,” Maeve said with conviction.
There had to be a catch.
“What do you want me to do?”
Maeve conjured a small box from her sleeve. It looked like a jeweler’s box for a ring. Not just any ring, either, a dinner ring set with diamonds or a large engagement ring. She offered it to Sebastian, who took it and opened it.
Instead of the anticipated ring, a wicked-looking sliver gleamed on the red velvet interior. It was sharp at both ends, about half an inch long, and appeared to be made of glass.
“Replace it,” Maeve said, then smiled. “That’s all. Just put the splinter back.”
An assassin for the Fae wasn’t exactly an innocent caught in a web of Maeve’s design. She’d killed any number of victims. Sebastian didn’t have any immediate scruples about accepting the wager.
Beyond distrusting Maeve.
“Why don’t you do it yourself?” he asked, keeping his tone idle.
“She’ll be wary of me or the Fae. She’s in the middle of a Pyr firestorm and it’s messing with her ideas. You know how dragons are, always challenging preconceptions.”
“I do.” Sebastian found himself inclined to accept the terms. “How will I find her?”
“I’ll give you directions.” Maeve shrugged and finished her drink. “Who knows? You might even enjoy it. I know how you enjoy setting all the pieces in motion.”
There was that.
Alasdair continued his tale of Hadrian’s parents. “Finally, Notus landed in the forest he knew best, in Northumberland. He intended to find shelter and sleep, for he was weary to his marrow and disheartened that he couldn’t find Argenta. Instead he heard the sound of tears. He followed the sound to a humble cottage, which was almost in ruins. A man sat outside it beneath the light of the moon, weeping as if his heart had broken in two. The man roused himself at the sight of Notus and, taking him for a weary traveler, offered to share his last pot of porridge.”
The cottage was small and in disrepair, although Rania thought there was another building behind it. The man had silver in his hair and in his beard, but he looked strong and hale. He also looked as disheartened as Notus.
“Notus had found the home of a blacksmith, who had been captured by the Fae to do service to them. He’d entered the hall under a mound and thought he had only been there a few days. Upon his release, he returned home to find that he’d been gone twenty-five years. His wife and children were gone. His larder was bare and his vegetable garden was overgrown. His hut was falling down. All he had were his tools, for he had been ordered to bring them to Fae, but he couldn’t light a fire to work. Even the last of his firewood had been taken. He’d made the porridge with the last of the grain and water from the river, and it was both cold and gritty.”
Rania felt sympathy for the blacksmith, and admired his generosity in sharing what little he had.
Then she thought about that: she was feeling kindness toward a blacksmith.
What was happening to her?
“It was a good site, though,” Alasdair said. “Notus could see as much, with the river bending around it. The river itself was broad and seemed to sing as it passed over the stones beside the cottage. The forest was thick and he spied game within it; the sky overhead was clear and the wind was cool. The blacksmith said his people had been there since the beginning of time, and they laughed about that. Notus offered to stay and help the blacksmith to rebuild his life and the next morning, they worked together to re-thatch the roof. The blacksmith’s name was Darian and they two became good friends.”
Rania saw the two of them on the roof in the morning sunlight. A young boy came out of the