“August!” I yelped, whirling around as he removed his hand from my lips. “What the hell are you doing up here?”
“I didn’t want us to be overheard.” He was panting slightly, his eyes wild.
Something in their expression alarmed me. He still did not let go of my wrist. For the first time, I noticed he’d changed from his original oatmeal-colored tweed suit into an onyx blazer and pants I’d never seen before.
“What’s going on?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
“Come on, not here.” He tugged me into an unoccupied bedroom.
It was too dark up here. He was acting strangely, and that manic look in his eyes…I was afraid of it.
“No,” I said, pulling back. “Tell me what’s going on, right now.” I resisted his grasp, but he held on tightly.
August’s nostrils flared in irritation. “Come on, Arden.”
But as he tugged at my arm, I caught the tail end of a glittering, metallic flavor in the air. It wasn’t the usual burnt ash or the corrosive flavor of deceit on my tongue; rather, it reminded me of blood oozing from a bitten lip, just the barest glimmer of iron. I’d learned years ago never to ignore my strange ability, and tonight was no exception. Something was wrong. I yanked my wrist free.
“You’re not August,” I breathed.
The gleaming smile August offered in return made my blood run cold. “You’re smarter than you look, Little Arrow.” He spoke in a voice that was not his own. August’s features shifted and warped until he was no longer standing before me.
Zhara.
My first thought was that I had detected her glamour. Tasted it for the deceit it was. My second thought was that I was in deep fucking trouble. I was standing in a secluded bedroom with a Daemon of the Bloodthorn Order. The third was that Veronika had set me up, and I’d fallen for her ruse. The last thing I thought of was my dagger, concealed beneath the rippling silk of my dress.That Zhara had no inkling I was armed was my only source of consolation against the fear that trickled down my spine.
Oh, fuck.
I swallowed hard as her obsidian eyes bored into me. Even in the dim light, they gleamed with cold malice.
“You ruined my fun,” she hissed softly. Her tight-fitting black bodysuit was made of a glassy, almost liquid material that moved to the shape and form of her lithe body. Her eyes were heavily shadowed with a deep shade of onyx that matched her painted lips. She wore no jewelry, allowing her to remain nearly undetectable among the shadows. She was watching me warily, like a predator assessing its potential prey.
“What do you want?”
Zhara ignored my question and moved closer, a cat stalking a mouse. “These parties are all the same,” she muttered, her voice like rough coal. “Drunken mortal fools, falling all over themselves, drinking our wine until they make themselves sick. And in the morning, their maids clean up their mess so they can do it all over again.” Her laugh was a gravelly rasp at the back of her throat. “It is very tedious, you know. Dealing with these mortal emissaries. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth it.”
It unnerved me that she did not answer, but I decided to play along. “Why even come to the party then?” I inquired.
She sneered. “You know why. It’s the same reason you and the Darkseer are in attendance.”
Shit, so they knew we were searching for the Heir.
“Tell me, girl, did you find her?”
“Her?” I repeated, catching her slip-up. “The Heir is a woman?”
She scowled at her error. “Whoever they are, the Heir will soon be nothing so much as bones in the ground after Devereaux plucks the secrets from their head.”
Her teeth, I now realized, were sharpened into gleaming ivorypoints. Even barring any supernatural abilities, those fangs would likely do serious damage. I was trembling, trying to think around the wild pounding of my heart.
“But—you need the Heir,” I argued. “You could even use them as leverage against the Queen?—”
Her dark eyes flashed. “Need them? As if we Daemons need a mortal fool!” She unleashed a guttural laugh, the sound echoing against the walls, and bared her teeth.
She was closing in, pressing me up against the wall. A gilded frame dug painfully into the back of my skull. I was trapped.
First August, and now some unknown girl was in danger, all because someone’s ancestor had made a foolish bargain to act as Keeper for the Daemon Queen. And now, me.
I needed to calm down. Focus. I had to keep her talking to buy myself time. Soon, Casimir would wonder where I’d gone and come looking for me. She could easily kill me. I ran through my options. Beg for my life? No. Tell her about the bargain with Casimir? No, the Order couldn’t know about that, but maybe… If I could plant a seed of doubt in Zhara’s mind, it might make her hesitate long enough for me to escape this room.