Etched in Silver, Page 2

  Jahn motioned for me to drink up. I tossed a coin on the counter and inhaled the aroma whirling up from the glass. One long whiff filled my nose with the fragrance of harvest time, and moss and trees and stone circles.

  “You sure the dwarves made this?”

  “I know. I was surprised, too,” he said. “I gather they’ve discovered some new process or something for distilling the brew. Nobody’s talking secrets, though. Taste it. I think you’ll be in for a surprise.”

  I brought the crystal to my lips and took a sip. The flavors of warm honey and cinnamon raced down my throat, and then—an aftertaste of galangal and oats and . . . kirmeth? A potent flower bud, kirmeth produced a stiff kick when added to alcohol.

  Coughing, I wiped my eyes, trying not to smear the kohl. “Whoa . . . this is a damned sight better than anything I’ve had lately. Pour me another, please.”

  He filled another glass and shoved it my way. “What’s got you so wound up? You’ve been coming in here all tight and tense this whole week. You act like you’re hunting for something, and I know you haven’t found what you’re looking for.”

  He reached out and took one of my hands in his. His skin was rough and his face was scarred. I wondered what battles he’d seen in his younger days.

  “Sweetie, it’s no wonder the men are scared shitless of you. They want you, don’t get me wrong, but that glint in your eyes promises you’ll take down the next man who even looks at you wrong.”

  I slugged the rest of my drink and pushed back the glass, toying with the second drink. As much as I wished I could tell him, I was under wraps. Agents of the YIA were sworn to secrecy, except to one another. Even though Jahn had been a friend of the family since before I was born, I couldn’t confide in him. So I lied.

  “Family stuff. Father’s on a tear about the gardens again. Mother loved them. But I don’t have the time to keep them up like she did, and I really don’t have her green thumb. I can grow herbs—some, for my magic. But I’d rather talk to them than tend them.”

  “Green thumb?” He looked perplexed.

  “Mother was able to grow things . . . like an herbalist. Anyway, so he’s pissed about that. And I’m worried about Menolly.” I stopped, frowning. And here we come to another problem, folks—my sister and the YIA’s unrelenting use of her in dangerous cases, thanks to her innate abilities to sneak into places and climb walls and so forth.

  “What’s she done now?” Jahn knew all about Menolly’s propensity for getting into trouble.

  “It isn’t what she’s done, it’s what . . . Oh, it’s confidential. Let’s just say I don’t trust the mission she’s been assigned to. I have a really bad feeling about this one, Jahn, but there’s nothing I can do. We can’t refuse our assignments.”

  I shifted on the bar stool, my body aching. It had been weeks since I’d had sex, at least with anybody other than my own hand. Or even a decent date. The last guy bailed on me when he found out I was half-human. Damned bigots.

  Jahn noticed. He leaned closer and whispered, “I thought that’s what was wrong with you. I’ll take you home, darlin’. I’d jump your bones in a second if you’d let me.”

  That smarted. Not the fact that Jahn looked at me that way. I was flattered, actually, because he was a worldly, seasoned traveler who had finally settled down after a volatile career on a fishing boat up in the tumultuous Wyvern Ocean.

  No, what smarted was that here I was, young, unattached, pretty—or so I was told, reasonably intelligent, hardworking, and willing . . . and nobody had looked my way in over three months. Well, nobody that I was interested in. Race didn’t matter. I’d dated a dwarf a few years back, a giant, even an elf, but lately it felt like I’d been classified as untouchable.

  I stared at the bartender, mulling over his offer. Roche wasn’t around and I might as well give up the hunt for the night. A fling with Jahn might be just what I needed. He was rugged and I had no doubt he knew how to use his hands—and everything else, as well. But he’d been after me for years and there was something a little creepy about sleeping with my father’s friend. And Father would be livid. You just don’t fuck old friends’ daughters.

  He leaned on the polished mahogany counter next to my drink. “You’ll walk away more than satisfied.”

  Slowly, I reached out to run my fingers lightly over the top of his hand. “I’m incredibly flattered . . . I know you see beautiful women in here day after day. But I don’t—”

  “Stop. Just think about it for a moment,” Jahn said, slowly pulling his hand away. “I’ll make you come like you’ve never come before.”

  He turned to another customer as I sat there, playing with my drink. I was so tense, so in need of release, but something just didn’t feel right about accepting Jahn’s proposal.

  “I don’t think I can do it,” I whispered, staring at my glass.

  “You can do anything you set your mind to.” That voice—Mr. Silk on Satin. Once again, something in his tone made me tremble.

  I darted a glance to my right. Sure enough, it was the beautiful man again. “And who are you, to be interrupting my thoughts? And my fights?”

  He arched an eyebrow and motioned to Jahn, who had just returned. The bartender’s expression clouded over.

  “Sonyun Brandy. Warmed over a slow flame, please.” As the man tossed a handful of coins on the bar, he added, “ And another drink for the lady.”

  I was about to protest, but another glimpse of those baby blues shut me up.

  “I take it you’re alone tonight?” he asked, turning back to me.

  And then, I saw it—the sparkle of fire, the hint of magic. The man bled charm like a bee tree oozed honey.

  He wasn’t a wizard, nor a witch nor a mage. A sorcerer? No, I’d sense the magic. Nor did he look like royalty. Sometimes the nobles of the Court slummed in the nightclubs, picking up lovers to use and abuse. I couldn’t figure out what game he was playing, but he intrigued me. I decided to accept his challenge. I’d learned to bluff from the best.

  As Jahn let out an irritated grunt and moved off to warm up the man’s brandy, I suddenly remembered his offer. Shit, I was being rude, and to a sweet guy, at that. But ignoring the man sitting next to me would be as hard as ignoring the pressure between my thighs.

  I shifted on the bar stool. “Am I alone? That depends on who’s asking. And you haven’t answered my question yet.”

  The man smirked. “No, I haven’t. Consider it a lesson in patience, which you obviously need, the way you’re fidgeting in your seat.”

  Blushing, I slammed down my drink and stood. I leaned close and whispered, “You might like to play with pussycats, but you’re not getting near mine. Not unless you can give me a damned good reason.”

  As I started for the door he reached out and lightly placed two fingers on my arm, not holding me, just ever-so-slightly touching. A ripple raced through my body. I grabbed for the counter, steadying myself as he swung in behind me and rested a hand on my side—tracing the curve of my waist with the lightest of pressure.

  “Leaving so soon, beautiful?” he whispered, leaning close to my ear. “I was just starting to enjoy myself. I don’t often meet women who can hold their own. I hope you aren’t offended that I interfered in your tête-à-tête back there. I have no doubt you would have taken that idiot down alone, but I can’t stand louts. They offend my senses.”

  The breath from his lips washed over my neck and I pressed my thighs together. I’d met plenty of gorgeous Fae over the years—hell, I was half-Fae myself and knew how to use glamour, but this was more than glamour. This was like being swept out to sea by a riptide of hunger. I wanted to strip naked and throw him down on the counter.

  “Camille? Can I speak to you? Alone.” Jahn set a snifter of brandy on the counter. “Here’s your brandy. Why don’t you let the lady go?”

  Without missing a beat, the dark man said, “Mind your business, barkeep. She’s a grown woman. She’ll tell me if she wants me to leave her alone.”
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  I didn’t move.

  “Camille, please, I need to talk to you.” Jahn gave me a strained look and I reluctantly broke away. In a fog, I followed him to the end of the counter.

  “That’s the man who helped me out. Do you know him?”

  “Oh, lovely.” Jahn narrowed his eyes. “Not by name, but he’s a Svartan. Surely you know what that means, girl.”

  I frowned, thinking for a moment, then understanding broke through. A Svartan . . . one of the Charming Fae, as cunning in nature as they are sexual. As predatory as they are suave.

  “I didn’t realize . . .” I glanced back at the man, who raised his snifter in salute, then took a long, slow sip.

  Jahn let out a little groan. “Girl, promise me you aren’t going to sleep with him. Please? Even if you don’t sleep with me, for the love of the gods, do not get mixed up with the likes of him.”

  I listened to what he was saying. I really did. But the entire time, my gaze was fastened on the Svartan. After a moment, I let out a little sigh. Roche wasn’t here and he wasn’t going to come. Not tonight. Another wild-goose chase. Another black mark against my name.

  “I think I’d better go home for the night,” I said, feeling defeated. “Thank you, Jahn, for everything.”

  As I gathered my purse and turned to go, I realized that I couldn’t just leave it at that. Feeling Jahn’s disapproving stare follow me, I walked back to the Svartan and deliberately laid one hand on his arm.

  He glanced down at my hand, then up to meet my eyes. “Yes?”

  “Camille te Maria. I’m in here a lot. Next time—and I trust there will be a next time—ask before you intervene.” I sauntered toward the curtains cordoning off the exit, then paused in midstep to call over my shoulder. “Remember, stranger. You still owe me your name.”

  As I swept out the door, I could feel him watching me. But I didn’t look back.

  “WHAT do you know about the Svartans?” I asked my father that evening after dinner.

  Sephreh ob Tanu jerked his head up from where he was polishing his dress sword, his brow lined, a worried look in his eyes. They reflected the violet of my own, and his hair was the same color as mine—raven black and woven in a shoulder-length braid. I took after him. My sister Delilah took after our mother—golden-haired and tanned, and Menolly . . . well, no one knew where her burnished copper locks came from.

  “What have you gone and done now?” He sounded positively overjoyed. Not.

  I shrugged. Father was cagey. I’d have to walk softly because I could already sense the storm brewing in his voice.

  “I saw one in the club tonight.” With a little luck, Jahn wouldn’t breathe a word to Father about my interaction with Tall, Dark, and Dangerous. He’d keep his mouth shut because he’d be too afraid I’d mention his offer, and we both knew my father well enough to know just how that would go over. Old friends don’t fuck other friends’ daughters. At least not without permission.

  With a look that said I know you’re up to something but I don’t know what, Father shook his head. “Leave the man alone. They’re all a bunch of perverts. You know the city of Svartalfheim rests in the Subterranean Realms.”

  “I’ve heard rumors about the entire city migrating back to Otherworld.”

  “Wonderful. That’s just what we need. If they do, I’ll guarantee they’ll bring a host of demons swarming with them.”

  “The demons can’t get through the portals,” I said. “They’re barred.”

  “So they say, but I’m not too sure about that.” He grunted, then after a moment, cleared his throat. “Your sister Delilah needs to start dressing like a lady, at least for your aunt Olanda’s visit. Take her shopping. Get her out of trousers and tunics, please.” He gave me the once-over. “You’re fine. Menolly, too. But . . .”

  “Delilah’s a tomboy and you know it,” I said, laughing. “Those dresses will last a couple of days and then you’ll never see them again. But yeah, I’ll add that to my to-do list.”

  Father put down his sword and leaned back in his chair, crossing his right leg across his left. He was a handsome man, looking barely older than the three of us. Full-blooded Fae, he would age far slower than we until we drank the nectar of life. But that wouldn’t be for some time yet. We were forbidden to touch it for now.

  It was easy to see why Mother had followed him home from Earthside. She’d fallen for him before he ever kissed her, before he told her he loved her, and they’d been devoted to each other, right until the end.

  “Camille, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Sephreh looked uncomfortable. “Your mother provided for you over Earthside. You have means there, should you ever need it. But here . . . I’ve put aside what I can for the three of you, but it isn’t much.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not sick, are you?” I slid down to his feet and rested my head against his knee, stabbed by a sudden fear. We couldn’t lose both of them.

  He shook his head and patted my hair. “No, I haven’t taken ill. I’m talking about the fact that, by your age, girls normally start thinking about marriage and everything that comes with it—security, a title, convenience . . . I’m just not sure . . .”

  “How well we’ll fare in that department?” As I spoke, he grimaced and I knew what was bugging him. “You’re afraid no one will marry us because we’re half-breeds?”

  He jumped up, grabbed my shoulders, and lifted me to my feet. Tipping my chin up, he stared at me, his eyes flashing. “Never call yourself that. Never, ever demean yourself. You are half-human. Your mother was human and she was the most wonderful woman in the world. In either world. You will not be ashamed of your heritage. I’m not ashamed of you or your sisters. I’m proud of the three of you, and I know you do your best to make me proud. Do you understand?”

  Shaken, I nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . what I meant was—if someone can’t handle our lineage, then they can go fuck themselves. None of us will ever marry a bigot. Besides, I’m never getting married. I like my freedom too much.” I grinned, trying to take the edge off his worry.

  Father searched my eyes. After a moment, he laughed and kissed the top of my head. “You take after me, girl,” he said, returning to polishing his silver sword. “You prefer sex to breathing. Sometimes I wish you’d taken after your mother like Delilah. I think she’ll have an easier road to walk than you will. As for Menolly, it’s anybody’s guess.”

  I was about to ask if he ever thought of remarrying but stopped myself. There were some places still too painful to tread.

  2

  THE next day, Menolly, Delilah, and I headed out for work together. Delilah was a few years younger than I, and her waist-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tall—six foot one—she was so athletic she put me to shame. A real tomboy, she was in and out of trees like I was in and out of the shops. She was also a werecat and had a yowl that could wake the dead, especially during the nights leading up to the full moon.

  Menolly, on the other hand, barely grazed my nose. Petite with a cloud of coppery curls that traced halfway down her back, she was the perfect acrobat. Well, almost perfect. We all had problems thanks to our half-human heritage.

  My magic fritzed out at the most unexpected of times, and sometimes backfired in painful and embarrassing ways. Menolly could balance on her toes on a tightwire, but one short circuit and she’d go tumbling down the front steps. And Delilah shifted into tabby cat form, but she couldn’t always control when she made the transformation.

  We weren’t the best employees the Y’Elestrial Intelligence Agency had, but they couldn’t say we weren’t loyal, or enthusiastic. Our father was a captain in the Guard Des’Estar. We’d joined the YIA to make him proud.

  The YIA headquarters were in the palace. A monolithic tribute to overkill, the palace made me cringe. The architecture was beautiful, but thanks to the tastes of our queen, the whole effect came off as tacky.

  Minarets jutted into the sky, their spires
flying the flags of Y’Elestrial and Queen Lethesanar. Five flights of steps led up to the massive doors guarded by men strong enough to squash a goblin’s head with their bare hands. Paired with wizards, they kept an eye out for magical intruders.

  We stopped at the doors to show our credentials, then hurried through the doors toward the wing reserved for the agency. Clerks and scribes scurried every which way, their arms filled with paperwork and scrolls and books. Every now and then another agent would rush by, waving on the fly. We crowded into the briefing room to pick up our notes and assignments for the day.

  Menolly grimaced as she was handed a single sheet of paper. “I knew it. Damn it, I wish they’d get off their butts and give me some help.” She glanced around, making sure nobody was within earshot.

  “Why bother whispering?” I snorted. “We’re being eavesdropped on anyway. There are plenty of spies around and I have no doubt our supervisors can hear everything we say. Today’s whine is tomorrow’s whipping stick.” I glanced at my own assignment sheet. “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong?” Delilah asked.

  “My supervisor wants to see me. Again.” I crumpled the paper.

  Menolly shook her head. “Better that than my day. They’ve got me scheduled to sneak directly into the heart of the Elwing Blood Clan’s nest. I’ve been putting it off, hoping they’ll give me some backup. The damned job’s just too dangerous to tackle alone. I think I can wrangle another couple weeks of research but after that . . . I’ll have to either cave or quit.”

  “Maybe they think you’re the best choice for the job,” Delilah said, ever the optimist.

  “Don’t bet on it,” I muttered. “I get the feeling they’re deliberately trying to trip us up. You know, force us to screw up so badly they can fire us. That way, we couldn’t lodge a complaint.”

  “You really think they’re trying to get rid of us?” Delilah asked.