“Put down the stone.”
He frowned, looked down at the talisman in his grip, and caught his breath. The veins on the back of his hand were dark, so dark that they stood out like ink against his flesh, the lines tracing up toward his elbow. The power he’d felt pulsing through him was actually pulsing through him, turning his blood black. He had been so focused on his renewed strength, and on the spell itself, on staying hidden, that he had not felt—had not wanted to feel—the warmth of the magic spreading up his arm like poison. But he should have noticed, should have known—that was the thing. Kell knew better. He knew how dangerous the stone was, and yet, even now, staring down at his darkened veins, that danger felt strangely faraway. A persistent calm pressed through him stride for stride with the stone’s magic, telling him that everything would be all right, so long as he kept holding—
A knife buried itself in the post beside his head, and the room snapped back into focus.
“Have you gone deaf?” growled Lila, freeing another blade. “I said put it down.”
Before the calm could close over him again, Kell willed himself to release the stone. At first, his fingers stayed clasped around the talisman as warmth—and in its wake, a kind of numbness—seeped through him. He brought his free, untainted hand to his darkening wrist and gripped hard, willing his resisting fingers to uncurl, to release the stone.
And finally, reluctantly, they did.
The stone tumbled from his grip, and Kell’s knee instantly buckled beneath him. He caught himself on a table’s edge, gasping for breath as his vision swam and the room tilted. He hadn’t felt the stone leeching his energy, but now that it was gone, it was like someone had doused his fire. Everything went cold.
The talisman glinted on the wooden floor, a streak of blood against the jagged edge where Kell had gripped too hard. Even in its wake, it took all Kell’s will not to take it up again. Shaking and chilled, he still longed to hold it. There were men who lurked in dens and in the dark corners of London, chasing highs like this, but Kell had never been one of them, never craved the raw power. Never needed to. Magic wasn’t something he lusted for; it was something he simply had. But now his veins felt starved of it, and starving for it.
Before he could lose battle for control, Lila knelt beside the stone. “Clever little thing,” she said, reaching for it.
“Don’t—” started Kell, but she’d already used her handkerchief to sweep it up.
“Someone’s got to hold on to it,” she said, slipping the talisman into her pocket. “And I’d wager I’m the better choice right now.”
Kell clutched the table as the magic withdrew, the veins in his arm lightening little by little.
“Still with us?” asked Lila.
Kell swallowed and nodded. The stone was a poison, and they had to be rid of it. He steadied himself. “I’m all right.”
Lila raised a brow. “Yes. You are the very image of health.”
Kell sighed and slumped into a chair. On the docks outside, the celebrations were in full swing. Fireworks punctuated the music and cheers, the noise dulled, but not much, by the walls of the shop.
“What’s he like?” asked Lila, looking in a cabinet. “The prince.”
“Rhy?” Kell ran a hand through his hair. “He’s … charming and spoiled, generous and fickle and hedonistic. He would flirt with a nicely upholstered chair, and he never takes anything seriously.”
“Does he get into as much trouble as you do?”
Kell cracked a smile. “Oh, much more. Believe it or not, I’m the responsible one.”
“But you two are close.”
Kell’s smile fell, and he nodded once. “Yes. The king and queen may not be my parents, but Rhy is my brother. I would die for him. I would kill for him. And I have.”
“Oh?” asked Lila, admiring a hat. “Do tell.”
“It’s not a pleasant story,” said Kell, sitting forward.
“Now I want to hear it even more,” said Lila.
Kell considered her and sighed, looking down at his hands. “When Rhy was thirteen, he was abducted. We were playing some stupid game in the palace courtyard when he was taken. Though, knowing Rhy, he might have gone willingly at first. Growing up, he was always too trusting.”
Lila set the hat aside. “What happened?”
“Red London is a good place,” insisted Kell. “The royals here are kind, and just, and most of the subjects are happy. But,” he continued, “I have been to all three Londons, and I can say this: there is no version that does not suffer in one way or another.”