Spin the Shadows (Dark and Wicked Fae #1) - Cate Corvin Page 0,68
pouting at Robin.
Brightkin was sprawled on the couch in the same spot as last time, but this time, there was no air of languid drunkenness. His eyes were red-rimmed but sharp, glittering dangerously in the dim light. “My cousin was murdered in the street like a dog. How the fuck do you think I am?”
That’s when I realized his clothes were stained and wrinkled like they’d been slept in many times, his blond hair unbrushed. There were no human girls in here tonight.
“Your cousin was a useless piece of shit.” Robin said it so bluntly it was shocking.
Brightkin leaned forward, balancing his forearms on his thighs. “Obviously. He was only here for ass and free evanesce. But my mother is still riding me about it like I was the one out there with the fucker.”
I had to try so hard to keep my haughty mask in place. This spoiled child was the crown prince of the Seelie realm? Ludicrous.
I wasn’t sorry in the slightest that Fionn had run afoul of the Ghosthand Killer. Still, you’d think your family would mourn you. The only thing Brightkin cared about was himself.
“And that’s because…” Robin grinned widely and spread his arms. “Your mother is a bitch!”
Brightkin chuckled and reached out to pour himself a drink. The pixie vodka slipped down in his throat in one go. “She can’t die soon enough.”
My heart clenched in my chest at this open talk of treason—from Titania’s own son, no less— but Robin didn’t so much as blink.
He grabbed a bottle off the liquor shelf and trotted over to me, sitting in the space I’d left for him.
“Look, Bright,” he said, taking a deep draught from the bottle. “So your cousin is dead. Who the fuck cares? We’ve got booze. We’ve got pussy.”
Robin ran his meaty glamoured hand up my thigh, stopping just short of touching my pussy. He gave Bright another crude grin, then pulled his hand away and dug in a pocket sewn inside the leather jacket. “And we’ve got a fresh shipment of evanesce.”
He held up a vial and wiggled it at Brightkin. It was the length of my ring finger, capped with gold, and instead of corpseroot powder, this one was full of a deep violet powder that glinted like fresh snow.
“Now that is what the fuck I’m talking about,” Brightkin breathed. His fingers twitched. “I’ve got Garda practically searching up my ass in the palace. There’s no way to get it in there.”
“Fuck ‘em in the ass.” Robin tossed him the vial. “Take the edge off.”
He was so convincing it was sickening. How many messages, ripped from Calder’s stolen phone, had he pored over between the two of them? He called the prince by a nickname I would never have dared to say to his face. He had intel he hadn’t even told me.
I’d heard nothing about a new shipment of evanesce, or Brightkin being searched in the palace, or that he wanted the Queen to die. I couldn’t imagine this… this thing ruling over Avilion.
A little head’s up would’ve been super cool of you, Robin.
Brightkin uncapped the vial and poured a line of evanesce over the back of his left hand. His right hand was shaking so badly he nearly spilled it.
When a quarter of the vial was dumped out, he lifted his hand to his face and snorted it, making awful choking noises.
“That’s better,” he breathed. “That’s so much better.”
His blue eyes were already glazing over.
“Good.” Robin took another drink, his hand stroking my thigh. If I didn’t look, I could almost pretend he wasn’t wearing Calder’s image. “Now let’s talk business. I need to get them out of here.”
Brightkin rubbed his nose, staring at Robin. “Why the rush? I haven’t tried the redhead yet.”
Thank the trees I wasn’t drinking, or I’d puke on him.
Robin tugged a cigar out of his jacket. It was like a cabinet of wonders in that thing. If he pulled out a live rabbit, I was out of here. “You know why. The bitch’s dog is sniffing around. Robin Goodfellow.”
Maybe it was a testament to how much Robin trusted in my acting skills, and I was determined not to prove him wrong. I didn’t flinch or stare, just ran my fingers through my silky, dripping hair and looked bored with it all.
Brightkin, on the other hand, dragged his hands through his hair like he was going to rip it out and flopped back against the couch with a groan. “Fucking Goodfellow? Are you sure?”