Grave Destiny (Alex Craft, #6) - Kalayna Price Page 0,3

did he hire you to do?” Falin asked, studying me.

“Nothing.” Yet.

“We haven’t gotten that far,” Dugan said, and for the first time, true emotion bled into his voice. That emotion happened to be annoyance. Awesome. “I only just arrived, but as you can see, I have come to her place of business with the purpose of commissioning her. So my presence here is justified by the Sanctuary of Artisans.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is anyone going to explain that one to the girl that didn’t grow up in Faerie?”

The two men stared at each other. Dugan was clearly being purposefully nonthreatening, and it was just as clear that the necessity of the action annoyed him. For his part, Falin had also taken things down a notch, but it definitely irritated him that he couldn’t challenge the Shadow Prince over his presence in winter’s territory. I was between them, both physically and metaphorically. I’m not a short girl, but both men were taller than me, and broad with muscles, so I felt absolutely petite. Which was rather irritating. I crossed my arms over my chest, standing up straighter, but it didn’t make a difference. The Shadow Prince was all darkness with his tailored suit and inky black hair. Falin, in contrast, wore a crisp white oxford, his platinum blond hair pulled back from his well-chiseled face. I felt stuck between yin and yang, but it didn’t make me feel balanced. More like a tug toy.

“Well?” I asked, glancing between them.

“The Sanctuary of Artisans allows fae to contact and commission artisans of rare skills and talents who reside in lands ruled by other courts. It also protects those artisans if they must go to the lands of another court from the risk of being held there or enthralled to stay against their will,” Dugan said.

“That’s remarkably altruistic for Faerie.” Because enthralling and capturing talent seemed to be the courts’ basic modus operandi.

“It’s not for the benefit of the artisan,” Falin said, his frown deepening. “It’s so the original court doesn’t risk losing an asset.” He turned back toward Dugan. “I’d hardly call a private detective an artisan.”

“Ah, but she makes shades. A very rare talent.”

That first part wasn’t strictly true, as shades were memories stored in every cell of a dead body. My magic just collected all those tiny traces, joined them together, and projected them into something that could be seen, heard, and questioned. The second part was true enough, though.

“You are twisting the purpose of those ancient agreements to their limits,” Falin said, and Dugan grinned, his entire expression changing from the stern warrior of the shadow court to that of puckish amusement.

“We are fae. That is our nature. Now, my time is limited.” He lifted the dark, softly glowing stone he carried that held his right to open roads. “There is business to discuss.”

Chapter 2

Dugan turned and strode into my office. The movement was efficient, but also grandiose, as if a cape he wasn’t wearing should have been flapping behind him. I opened my shields, not far, just enough that I could peer across the planes of reality, and more importantly, see through glamour. Sure enough, the expensive suit vanished, replaced by dark armor and yep, a dark cloak. A sword hung at his waist, and I caught sight of at least three daggers. He might not look armed in mortal reality, but he had plenty of weapons under his thin veneer of glamour. Not that I expected anything else.

I didn’t immediately close my shields, but waited until he looked back and I got a clear view of his face. His features didn’t change, which was a relief. For a halting heartbeat, I’d been afraid he’d look back and I’d see someone else, someone who didn’t want to approach me with their own face—I had my share of enemies in Faerie. But the once again guarded face that frowned when he noticed me studying him was that of the Shadow Prince. I couldn’t fault him for wrapping his armor and weapons under a suit of glamour. After all, walking down the sidewalk in the Magic Quarter looking like he stepped off the cover of a romance novel about a medieval dark knight or assassin wouldn’t exactly help him keep a low profile.

Falin moved closer as I studied the prince. He leaned toward me, his voice pitched low so that his words were for me alone. “You don’t have to treat him any differently than any other