Etched in Silver

3

HIS caress enveloped me with the most glorious glow I’d ever felt, and his lips were soft, like golden taffy. He gently parted my lips with his tongue and all thoughts as to why this might not be a good idea fled.

As he tightened his embrace, I could feel the outline of him pressing through his trousers, hard and eager, but he didn’t push, didn’t grind against me like some men would have.

After a moment, I needed to catch my breath. As if reading my mind, he loosened his pressure on my lips. I quickly gulped air before once again, his mouth was on mine, his tongue playing lightly over mine. His touch navigated a serpentine path up my spine as he pressed his hand to my lower back. Then, slowly, he began to withdraw, easing his hands off me, pulling back inch by inch.

I caught a ragged breath and stared at him. What the hell? I’d never felt such an intense kiss. Out of my mind with lust, I wanted his hands on my naked body, his fingers to slide over my breasts, along my stomach, to whisper their secrets between my thighs. The thought of him inside me electrified my body, and every muscle began to ache, I wanted him so much.

He held up one hand. “Before this goes any further, let me warn you. If you sleep with me, you may find it hard to walk away. I’m one of the Charming Fae. Our bodies are saturated with sexual magic, and very few are immune to the effect. Make no mistake, if you f*ck me, this will be more than a casual bedding.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d heard the rumors but they’d seemed exaggerated. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

As he stepped back, part of me ripped away with him. “Don’t answer. I can wait, and I refuse to hurry your decision. Go do what you need to do, and tonight, when the sun sets, meet me at the front entrance of the Marketplace. We’ll find your prey and take him down.”

He leaned in for another kiss, then stopped. When I moved toward him, he shook his head. “Not yet. Think it over, and then think it over again. The choice is yours. I want you, make no mistake about it. But you’re the one who has to extend the offer.” And then he turned and quickly slipped out the door.





I caught up with Delilah and Menolly a few hours before dinner. Mother kept an anniversary clock from over Earthside on the mantel and though our time-telling system was different, we had learned both and used them interchangeably.


We strolled down the street toward Lake Y’Leveshan, which was located at the southeastern end of the city. Midwinter and midsummer holidays were spent around the lake. Huge, it stretched so far, the other side was a distant blur. Boats dotted the surface, their crews angling for fish to sell in the markets.

The shoreline was surrounded by lush vegetation. Long-bladed grass, knee high, grew thick around the lake, and the clearing was dappled with copses of maple and weeping willow, birch and rowan and wild camaz trees. The buzzing of gnats and bumblebees filled the air, along with the ever-present birdsong. A lazy spell held sway around the docks.

Delilah swung herself into the lower branches of a nearby oak tree. She dangled her legs over the edge and brushed away a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I love afternoons like this. I just hope the agency doesn’t find out we’re slacking.”

“Who gives a damn?” I asked. “I don’t care anymore. They’re squeezing us by the balls. If they fire me, I’ll just say good riddance. But listen, I think I’m actually on the heels of Roche.”

I wanted to tell them about Trillian, but somehow I didn’t think the news would go over big. Especially if Father found out. Maybe it was best to let it rest until I knew just how far this relationship was going to go.

Menolly stretched out in the grass and propped herself up on her elbows. Her shift was loose and filmy, and her hair cascaded down her back. Nobody knew where her red had come from, but the copper curls gleamed in the sun as she closed her eyes against the warmth of the light.

“I love days like today,” she said, sucking in a long, slow breath of summer. “It feels like the sun is sinking into my bones.” With a sigh, she added, “HQ wants me to scout the outskirts of the cave. I think I can hold them off for another few days or so—perhaps two weeks. But eventually, I’ll either have to finish the mission or quit. I wish I didn’t feel so bound to the damned job.”

“You’re really are going to have to make up your mind pretty soon about what to do,” I said. “As for me, tonight I’m going to check out a clue to Roche’s whereabouts.”

“You want company?” Menolly asked. “I’d be glad to go with you.”

“Me too,” Delilah added. “I could use a night on the town.”

I scrambled onto a flat boulder and crossed my legs, trying to think of a way to say no without making them suspicious. “Maybe . . . but don’t you have class tonight, Menolly?”

She grunted. Menolly attended a twice-weekly intensive workshop for acrobats and gymnasts in the agency to keep in shape. “Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”

“And somebody better be home to eat dinner with Father. You know how he gets about family meals.” I glanced over at Delilah. She rolled her eyes but nodded. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry. Jahn’s helping me.” A little white lie, though technically Jahn had helped me. Or at least he’d tried to.

Menolly darted a quick glance my way. “Jahn? Don’t tell me you’re taking up with that lecher? He’s been after you since you first hit womanhood.”

I grinned at her. “Better not let Father hear you talk about Jahn that way. He thinks the man can do no wrong, and frankly, there are far worse businesses than being a nightclub and brothel owner. At least he treats the women under his roof with care and compassion. But you’re right. He’s been after me for a long time. He’s not my type, though. He’s sweet, but . . . no . . .” Jahn paled in comparison to Trillian.

Delilah swung out of the tree, landing next to me. She kept her distance from the lake. Like a typical cat, my sister didn’t like water at all. When she was little, it had taken all of our mother’s threats of taking away her toys and pets to get her to bathe. She still viewed bath time as punishment rather than pleasure.

She gazed over the water as the wind rustled the grass across the lea. “Do you think we’ll still be doing this in ten years? Will we all still be single, working for the agency, living with Father?” She sounded almost wistful.

“I don’t know,” Menolly said, pushing herself to her feet. “I think I’m ready for change. Something different, you know? I feel like we’re marking time. Maybe I’ll marry Keris. Have children.”

She’d been dating our neighbor for several months and things were heating up. He was Fae, but he didn’t care about her half-human blood or that she also loved women. They’d recently started talking in terms of the future.

As I slid off the rock to stand beside them, something in the wind sent a shiver racing down my back. I closed my eyes, listening to the energy. A low rumble of static ran through the astral as a dark cloud rolled across my inner vision, reeking with the scent of fresh blood and flame and fear. As I stiffened, the echo of a shriek—long and drawn-out as if from far in the distance—washed over me. I staggered under the wave of malevolence and fell to my knees, forcing my eyes open.

“What? What’s wrong?” Menolly knelt beside me.

I glanced at her, then up at Delilah. All of the joy had drained out of the day, and the sun seemed harsh instead of nurturing. I shook my head. Though I didn’t understand it, the premonition had left me shaken and afraid.

Sometimes my magic went awry, and sometimes my foresight was blurred. But this . . . This energy had crossed my grave. And I knew in my heart that—perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow—but that in the near future something was going to happen. Something we weren’t ready for, and wouldn’t welcome. Change was in the air, all right.





THE market was a lot more risky at night when the thieves and muggers came out of the woodwork. Underage whores worked the crowds—runaways and orphans who were too afraid to brave the countryside where they might be able to hunt and forage for their food.

Pickpockets slid through the throngs, looking for easy marks. Vampires occasionally roamed the streets, looking to put the bite on someone. The vamps were the most dangerous. Most of the bloodsuckers lost their consciences after a while, falling to their inner predator. Our father hated vamps—he’d witnessed his cousin being killed by one and barely escaped with his own life. The bloody memory stayed with him.

I stood at the front entrance to the Marketplace, scanning the faces, looking for Trillian. I’d dressed to impress, a black sparkling bustier over a spidersilk skirt the color of a peacock’s feathers. A pair of leather gloves covered my hands, in black, up to the elbows. I’d worn a pair of my mother’s shoes—odd, high-heeled sandals made from leather with spiked heels and delicate straps. She’d had the same size feet as I did, and I’d claimed her shoe collection, since none of her clothes would fit me. I had also tucked her wedding dress away in my closet, secure in a wooden trunk filled with moth-repelling sachets. I was saving it for when Menolly got married—she’d fit in it no problem.

Now, I cautiously maneuvered over the cobblestones, sticking close to the entrance, hoping the Svartan wouldn’t stand me up. But just as I was about ready to leave, there he was, dressed in black tunic and trousers, a silhouette gliding through the street, silver hair bound in a braid, a smile on his face.

Trillian reached out his hands and I took them, my heart jumping a beat. I pressed in, kissed him deeply and he returned the fire with his own.


“You came,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“I promised. Did you think I’d space out?” I gazed into his eyes and saw a flicker of confusion. “Idiom from my mother’s world. You really didn’t think I’d come, did you?” Could he be as nervous as I was?

“I didn’t know. To be honest, I haven’t been able to think of anything else today. The image of your face haunts me.”

I smiled, feeling unaccountably happy. But all I said was, “Is Roche here?”

And then, he was all business again. Trillian tugged my hand, pulling me behind him. “Yes, he is. Follow me and be careful. Did you bring something to bind him with should we catch him?”

“Right here.” I touched the shoulder pouch hanging from my right arm. Inside, I had several things that could stop Roche, short of a bodyguard or a mage. The agency didn’t know I carried them, or they’d take them away. But my sisters and I had accumulated a trunk filled with goodies that bordered on illegal. We figured we needed the advantage, given our faulty powers.

In my bag, among other things, I’d tucked a pair of iron handcuffs, careful not to touch them with bare skin. Not only were they iron, but they were bespelled with confusion magic, guaranteed to knock any Fae on his butt.

Torture device? Yeah . . . the iron would burn his skin until he was locked up and they were removed. But considering Roche’s crimes, I wasn’t exactly feeling merciful. In fact, Delilah thought I was an ogre for using them, while Menolly just gave me a knowing look. But I was rapidly learning that the only way to win with the YIA was to play down and dirty.

I also had a bottle of pixie dust that I’d picked up at the flea market. Guaranteed to turn anybody who breathed it into a klutz. And resting next to the handcuffs and the pixie dust was a scroll that I’d spent a lot of money on. The magic was deadly, and if I broke open the wax seal on the charm and inserted Roche’s name into the spell as I read it, he’d never walk this world again.

Death magic was more common than anybody wanted to admit. I didn’t like using it—there was something too familiar, too enticing about it, but with his track record I wasn’t about to leave my ass uncovered. The best of circumstances would leave me holding the death charm for a different time, but it felt good to have a little insurance tucked away.

Trillian led me along a winding path through the maze of carts and awnings and tents and canopies. We passed by the stalls of dancing girls and whores, of junkies and beggars sleeping it off by the edge of the road. Trillian paid them no attention, but my gaze flickered to the faces as we passed.

My mother told us that humans envisioned a utopia when they thought of Faerie Land. Then again, most didn’t really believe Y’Eírialiastar existed. But the truth would shock them. My father’s people were all too susceptible to the same problems that plagued mortals. Poverty, addiction, violence . . . we had it all.

We passed a Sawberry Fae hawking doses of kysa for ten pen each. Opium went for ten times the price. He caught my gaze and winked. “Care for a trip, my dear? Make life more bearable? Only ten pen.”

He reached out to grab my arm as I pushed past him.

Before I could react, Trillian had hold of the man’s wrist, twisting it so that it was bent back in the wrong direction. “Touch her again and I’ll cut it off.”

The Sawberry winced. “All right, all right. You wouldn’t want to sell her, would you? She’d fetch a—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because Trillian’s arm was suddenly wrapped around his neck, a knife aimed at his jugular.

“Don’t touch her, don’t speak to her, don’t even think about her. Are we clear?” A dangerous light flickered across the Svartan’s face, and I realized that he was ready to cut the man’s throat and he wasn’t even sweating.

“Yes,” the Sawberry croaked, rubbing his neck as Trillian released him. He averted his gaze from mine and scurried back to his tent.

Trillian slid the knife back into its sheath, which was hanging at his side and shrugged. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand. “This isn’t the safest place for women.”

I took his hand and followed. The stars were emerging, brilliant and beautiful and shining. The Moon Mother watched over us and I felt her presence in the pit of my stomach. She was nearing full, and the closer we got, the more I craved a man’s touch. Trillian’s hand was hot against mine. I tried to keep my mind on our mission—on finding Roche—but it was hard with him touching me.

“There,” he hissed. “Up ahead. See that tent? A gambler named Bes runs a den there. Roche is there. I checked earlier and he was deep into the game. What do you want to do? Will he recognize you?”

I’d been careful, but an alarm rang in the back of my head. If the YIA was setting me up to fail, maybe they had leaked info about me to the rumor mill. Maybe Roche knew I was on his tail.

“I don’t know,” I said after a moment. “I can’t guarantee that he won’t know who I am.”

“Come with me,” Trillian said, pulling me toward a nearby stall. The vendor was sitting beside a rack of scarves and drapes, drinking goblin brandy. The stench filtered up to my nose and set me to sneezing, it was so thick with peppercorns and keva root.

“Let me see . . . This will work,” Trillian said, choosing a sheer ankle-length cloak. Filmy and the color of amethyst, it was hooded and would cloak my face while still allowing me to see through the silken material. He draped the cloth around my shoulders and I slid the hood up.

Trillian gently tucked my hair inside the hood, making sure my errant curls were hidden from view.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, tracing my chin with his fingertips, gently running his fingers over my mouth. I parted my lips and he slid his index finger inside. Closing my lips around his finger, I swirled my tongue against the flesh, gently running my teeth over his skin as I pulled away.

He caught a harsh breath. “Do you know how lucky you are that I am not like the majority of my kinsmen?”

“Do you realize how lucky you are that I’m not like my sisters?” I countered, wishing we were anywhere but here. I hesitated. Would it be so bad to forget about Roche? To pretend I didn’t know he was here, to run off to an inn with Trillian and slide my naked body across his? But then my father’s training kicked in and I let out a long sigh. “Roche shouldn’t be able to recognize me now. Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”

Trillian laughed, then. “Camille, somehow I think that if you lose anything, it won’t be your courage. Come, pretend you’re with me and keep quiet until we find him. They don’t like women in the dens but they’ll allow them if they’re with a man. We can get a feel for what’s going on and go from there.”

He paid the man and we headed back to Bes’s den. Trillian motioned for me to hang back a few steps while he talked to the two guards at the entrance.

The vagabond gambling dens were usually owned by criminals. Gaming wasn’t illegal, but the safer dens were found in buildings and guaranteed the gambler safe passage in and out of the game rooms unless they invited trouble. The vagabonds’ dens were strictly enter-at-your-own-risk.

Suddenly chilled, I realized how grateful I was that Trillian was with me. I could fight down and dirty, but the dens were dangerous places, and without my sisters, I felt vulnerable. I shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to get this over with.


Trillian motioned for me to follow him inside. The tent was a two-room affair, with the main room taken up by the den. There were two low-rise tables, around which sat a dozen men—six at each table. I glanced over the crowd and there he was. Roche.

His eyes were glazed and he looked rough, his face covered with stubble, his hair unkempt, and his clothes filthy. Worse yet, he was stinking up the place. I wondered how long it had been since he’d had a bath. A pile of coins sat in front of him and he toyed with them, rolling them over and over in his hand.

Trillian sauntered up to the table and spoke to the dealer, who nodded curtly and pointed to a chair. As he sat down, he motioned for me to stand behind him. As I slowly crossed the floor, my gaze demurely pointed at my feet, something felt off. Very off. As though hidden eyes were watching me.

I leaned over Trillian’s shoulder to whisper to him but then stopped. Roche was still turning over the coins in his hand, but his gaze was firmly fastened on me. Catching my breath, I placed a hand on Trillian’s shoulder, squeezing in the hope that he’d get my message that something was up.

“In or out?” the dealer asked him.

Trillian tossed a few coins on the table. “In.”

Roche glanced down at the pile of coins in front of him and anted up, then added twenty pen more. The bets went round the table, with each player meeting or raising the bet. Roche held up the dice and pitched them on the table. Out of five dice, they landed a total of twenty-one pips. He frowned as the dealer jotted down the number. Round the table they went, each man taking his turn. By the time Trillian was up, Roche was still the leader. Trillian scooped up the dice and neatly tossed them. They rebounded off the bumper on the other side and came up four sixes and a three.

“Twenty-seven. You’re the current leader. What’s your pleasure? Let stand or bet for the second round?”

Trillian shook his head. “Stand.”

Roche snorted. “That the best you can do, Svartan?” He tossed another three coins on the pot. “Reroll.” The dice came his way and he shook them in his hand, blowing on them for luck, then tossed them.

The dealer grunted. “Twenty-three pips. Still under. Next?”

Roche slammed his hand on the table but said nothing as the other four players took their turns. Two walked out, their pockets clean. The other two bet again but neither one hit the mark and they both folded.

Trillian glanced at Roche. He could either match what had been added to the pot and toss again for the third and final round, or he could stand on his mark and see if Roche bested him.

“Stand,” he said, giving Roche a faint grin that bordered on patronizing.

That’s the way, I thought. Push him over the edge.

Roche took the bait. He motioned to the dealer. “Kysa.” As he lit up the hookah the dealer offered him, he glanced at me again. “What would you think of a higher wager—just between us? I’m sure I can make it worth your while.”

Trillian grunted. “What do you have in mind?”

“A night with your woman.” Roche gave him a lopsided grin. “Can’t see her face but from the walk, she’s got it where it counts.”

What the f*ck? The look on his face was that of a mad dog’s. I stiffened, then it occurred to me this was the perfect way to get alone with him. I forced myself to relax, wondering if Trillian would think of that little fact, too.

Giving no sign that the request had unnerved him, Trillian leaned back in his chair, glancing up at me. “What makes you think she’s for rent?”

Roche’s breath came heavy as he leaned across the table. “Every coin in my pocket against a night with her.”

Trillian frowned. “Let me consider it while I have a drink.” He motioned to me. “We’ll be back. Have an account of how much you’re willing to wager.” He paused, not turning as we reached the door. “And don’t even think about lightening the pile on the table. I know exactly how much is there. I’m not lenient with thieves,” he added. He motioned to the boy who was running drinks for the players. “Tygerian brandy. Now.”

The boy scurried off and within seconds was back with a shot of brandy. Trillian tossed him a coin and then motioned for me to follow him out of the den.

“This is the way for me to get to him,” I said when we were out of earshot.

“It’s dangerous. Did you see the glint in his eye? He’s hunting, and he’s after you.” Trillian shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him, even for a few moments. I’ll follow you, of course, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get in there in time to stop him.”

“I need to take him down,” I said. “At first, I just wanted to save my job, but after seeing the look in his eyes . . .” My words drifted off as I glanced back at the tent. “Too many people are dead because of him, including his own family. They need justice. If I don’t do it, nobody else will.”

Trillian leaned down and brushed my brow with a kiss. “And this is what I saw in you the other day in the bar. I may be a mercenary, but I’ve got a code of ethics. And you, Camille D’Artigo, exceed my standards.”

I shivered. “I don’t want to do this, but I’ve got to. You’ll back me up?”

He nodded. “I promise you on my honor. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent him from hurting you.”

I patted my bag. “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it.” Checking to make sure my stiletto was strapped to my thigh for easy access, I straightened my shoulders and drew the hood back over my head. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Trillian parted the flaps of the tent. “As you wish,” he said, but his eyes told me he wasn’t at all happy about the plan.