the terrifying angelic tyrant I was supposed to seduce.
Jack was still adjusting his collar, as though he were already imagining being hanged. “Ernald said you could talk fancy and all that. You’re one of the sophisticated courtesans who can read. Speak a bit of Clovian like the upper classes. Fit in a bit more with a count like him.”
Oh, bollocks. I downed a long sip of champagne, then wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. “Any idea what the count is interested in?”
He looked painfully perplexed, his forehead wrinkled. He shrugged. “Shagging?”
“Do you believe in angels?”
“Nahh… Angels? No. I think those feathers like that come from fancy swans and things.” He scratched his beard, then added. “I don’t believe in nothing, really.”
Well, that was that. “Thanks. Good talk, Jack.” I started pouring more champagne for myself.
“I’d better go.” He pointed at a door on the far wall, one that blended into the silky pink wallpaper. “He’ll be coming through there. Good luck with the uh …” he waved vaguely at my crotch, then gave me a thumbs-up.
“Okay. Thanks.”
As soon as he left, I drank the entire glass of champagne. Then as I waltzed around the room, I gave myself a pep talk. “You can do this, Lila. Zahra. Get the upper hand. Get control of the situation. Tickle him with his own feather. Maybe murder him to save your kingdom. It’ll be fine.”
My mind whirled.
Much as I tried to convince myself this was fine, Jack did have a point. Count Saklas had complete power over everything. If I made him angry, we’d all be crow food. He could burn Bibliotek to the ground.
I touched the little raven tattoo on my bicep. Idly, I wondered what would happen if someone got rid of the count. Maybe the Albians would rule Albia once more.
When I thought of the count, it was hard not to feel a pang of grief. Because that castle had swallowed up my sister.
The Clovians had ruled Dovren nearly as long as I could remember. I was ten when the Great War happened, when the Clovians invaded.
Less than half our soldiers returned, and the ones who did seemed haunted by nightmares, fits of trembling. None of them were right in the head anymore. Whatever they’d endured had been unspeakable.
And now? Every extra penny we made went to paying back the Clovians. Taxes for the war they started.
What if someone could kill him? I swallowed hard, shocked that I was even imagining it. I had killed a man before—a drunk pervert trying to rip off my clothes. Didn’t regret it one bit. But he’d hardly been the sort of threat that the count was.
I glanced at the door, wishing Zahra would knock on it to free me before I did something stupid.
“Just go along with it,” I muttered to myself, twirling the feather between my fingertips.
Ten years ago, when I was fifteen, Alice and I had scaled the outer castle walls, fingers and toes nestled between the stones. We were good at scaling walls. On top of a parapet, we caught a glimpse of the count himself, striding along the walkway. Tall and powerfully built, he walked with an unearthly elegance. As always, he wore a cloak with a cowl pulled up over his head. Though his face had been in shadow, I could have sworn he’d looked right at me. His eyes were an unnerving, unnatural gray , like steel. They glowed in the darkness.
And they’d seemed wrong. Unearthly. Lethal, somehow. I’d felt my heart stop at that moment.
That was when I knew he wasn’t mortal.
Unconsciously, I was brushing the feather along my wrist, feeling my pulse race even as my muscles softened and relaxed. When I looked down, I saw that it had left a faint golden sheen on my skin, like a divine gloss.
I’d heard fallen angels had a taste for human women. That we were their weakness.
Even worse, I’d heard rumors that they drove mortals mad with lust. I hoped nothing like that would be happening in the next ten minutes.
Zahra, where are you?
What I needed right now was some luck. There was an old Albian folk tale—you knock on stone three times, and you ask the Raven King for protection.
And if there was ever a time to ask for protection, it was now. I crossed to the fireplace, rapped on the stony mantel three times, and muttered a prayer to the Blessed Raven. Then, I tottered back to the bed.