The Fallen (Hades Castle Trilogy #1) - C.N. Crawford Page 0,28

like the back of a serpent. Brick warehouses rose up on the south side of it.

I’d dressed myself in a sedate gown of gray silk, and no jewelry. I wore a cape of a slightly darker gray, and the softest wool, around my shoulders.

In this small space, it was hard not to feel his magic wafting off him—an aphrodisiac spell that snaked under my silk gown.

A waiter carrying a tray knocked on our carriage door, and the count nodded him in. The man held out a tray with two cocktails. I took one—why not? But the count simply waved it away. Clearly, he loathed fun.

I took a sip of the drink, finding that it tasted of lime and champagne, and glittered with little gold flakes.

“What else can you tell me about tonight?” I asked. “Who is throwing this party? It’s a bit early for a party, isn’t it?” It was only seven.

“Lord Armaros. He comes from Clovia. His many wives will be at the party, and he likes his celebrations to go on for as long as possible.”

I frowned. “I didn’t know Clovians were allowed to have more than one wife.”

“We aren’t typical Clovians.”

You don’t say. “Care to elaborate?” I asked.

“No.”

“Is Sourial married?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking about him?” A blade of steel undercut in his tone.

“Just making conversation.”

“Sourial and I are unusual among our kind. We have no wives.”

“Will he be at the party, too?”

“Making conversation again, are you?” He murmured.

“Oh yes. My people call it chit-chatting.”

“It’s a terrible habit.”

“Some day, Count Saklas, you are going to have fun. And it is going to blow your mind.”

“I’d rather keep my mind intact.”

“What exactly happened to the Albian royal family?” I asked.

He frowned, looking at me like I was mad. “I killed them, of course. They would not relinquish their claims to the throne.”

My chest tightened. “But, all of them? Even the children?”

“They were hardly children. Twenty years old, at least.”

“And what about their cousins? The dukes, the duchesses? The viscounts? I don’t know the bloody titles. But they’re all dead?”

“Most are dead, and some languish in island prisons. If any of them become a threat again, they will die.” He sounded completely detached, staring out the window.

“But why are you here? Why are you in Albia? Why can’t you go back where you came from?”

Slowly, his gaze slid to me. And with the full force of his attention on me, I was overcome by a primal instinct to slink away into the shadows. Even cloaked, I felt his face was never meant for mortals to see. “I’m here to conquer. It is what I do.”

Not a satisfying answer. My jaw clenched. “Okay. So tonight, you want me to spy on the Free Men for you?”

“I received some intelligence that they will be at this party, disguising themselves as revelers. Their identities are unknown. Their ideas have infected the Albian aristocracy. Any information you can get me about them would make you valuable. Who they are. What they look like. Everything they’re doing.”

“Why are you afraid of them?”

“Take care what you are suggesting.” A low, dark chuckle. “The idea that I would fear anything is absurd. I simply want them dead. They are a disease, one that could spread across the city if I don’t eradicate it. But when you’re finished spying and going unnoticed, make sure people do notice you. I want them to see you with me. To think that you have affection for me, even if you don’t feel it.”

“Okay.” Even if he possessed the erotic magic of an angel, the idea of getting close to him like that terrified me.

“I can feel your fear.” Silver light glinted in his eyes. Despite everything else I knew about him, his eyes were a marvel—large, mournful, pale light framed by darkness. “You’ll see other women drawn to me, vying for my attention. Try to act like them. Push your true feelings away.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why.”

“No.” He stared out at the winding Dark River, and the boats drifting along its waves.

The image of my sister rose in my mind again. Her hair was a light flaxen blond, like a burst of sunlight in our dingy streets. She always wore a little charm around her neck—the shape of the sun, on a chain made of steel. It was a kid’s trinket, but it suited her. Sunny and steely at the same time.

She’d always been Mum’s favorite. Always been everyone’s favorite.

I cleared my throat. “I

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