Magiano keeps his eyes on me, his smile cunning. “The Night King is no ordinary nobleman, my love,” he says. There is an undercurrent of challenge in his words. “He sits on a pile of wealth and power that anyone would kill to have.”
The Night King grins at Magiano’s compliment. “Kenettra loves to trade with us. We enjoy her spoils more than anyone. Do you know how I earn that kind of trust in my power?” He puts an arm around me and nods at the soldiers with emblems on their sleeves. “I’ll tell you how. The world’s deadliest mercenaries always choose the most powerful to serve, and they choose to serve me. My city teems with them. So, if you ever want to see me, my dear, just whisper it into anyone’s ear on the streets. Word will get back to me. And I will send for you.”
Why are powerful men so stupid around a pretty face? Quietly, I begin to weave an illusion around the entire circle. It’s a subtle one, of blurry lantern light and raucous cheering, the illusion of people intoxicated with wine. The Night King rubs at his eyes before smiling at me. “Ah, my beauty,” he slurs. “I seem to have drunk too freely tonight.”
The world’s deadliest mercenaries choose to serve you, the whispers say, because they have yet to meet me. I lean over to kiss him on the cheek. As I do, I reach for his collar. Then I take the real diamond pin off and put it in the pocket within my silks.
“Perhaps you need to rest, my lord,” I reply, rising to my feet.
His hand whips out without warning and grabs my wrist. I freeze—so does everyone else around him. Even Magiano stops, surprised at the man’s speed. The Night King fights against his drunkenness and hardens his smile. “You do not leave until I say so,” he says. “I hope my soldiers told you the rules within this courtyard.”
Everyone around the fire exchanges nervous glances. I meet Violetta’s gaze. She sees my cue, leans toward him, and whispers something in his ear. The Night King listens, frowning—then breaks into laughter.
I can see the relaxing of shoulders around the circle as the other nobles join in. The Night King softens his grip on my wrist, then stands. “So,” he says, winding his arm around my waist while pulling Violetta up beside him. “A pair of adventurous sisters. Where did you say you were from, again?” He follows me as I lead us out of the circle and through the courtyard.
Behind us, several of his soldiers look at one another and follow along behind us. Magiano’s stare stays on us, too, and for an instant, his eyes meet mine. He seems puzzled and curious.
I glance around the courtyard, wondering where the Night King’s mercenaries might be. If they are as dangerous as everyone claims, then I know they must be watching us carefully. As I cast one last, casual glance over my shoulder, I see that Magiano has now disappeared from the circle.
I sustain the hazy, wine-like illusion around the Night King as we pass through the grounds and enter one of the open porticos lining the courtyard. Here, the shadows of the archways cover us, and we are swallowed by darkness. The soldiers following the Night King keep a short distance between us, giving him privacy while still keeping us in sight.
The Night King pulls me close, then pushes me against one of the portico’s pillars. At the same time, I reach within for my energy, find it, and pull the strings close. I start to weave.
One by one, the lights along the portico flicker out. The soldiers startle, bewildered. They glance at the extinguished lanterns. Then one of them looks at us and lets out a shout as I pull a blanket of invisibility over myself and Violetta. We step away from the Night King, slipping out of his grasp.
The Night King opens his eyes to find us gone and stumbles backward.
I silently thank the night for hiding the imperfections of my invisibility. I keep weaving.
“Guards!” the Night King shouts, waving his men over. They hurry to his side. To my surprise, several figures also materialize out of the shadows in the portico. These men are dressed differently from the regular guards—they look like ordinary noblemen, except each of them has a dagger in hand. His mercenaries, I think.
“Where did they go?” one of them breathes, looking around and straight through us. Violetta and I stand perfectly still, pressed as tightly as we can against the pillars.
“How can you not have seen them?” the Night King snaps, trying to recover from his own embarrassment. “Find them.”
I smile, amused by the fumbling soldiers. I grit my teeth and reach for the Night King.