She kept her lips next to his ear, and he realized that he’d stopped listening because her body was pressed against his arm, and soft tendrils of her hair were tickling his face, and she smelled like plums and rainwater, and he couldn’t think.
Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before? He’d spent hours moving her into the correct position for daggers or throwing stars. Hours sparring with her, their bodies touching briefly every time she struck or blocked. And his thoughts had been perfectly clear. Perfectly sane.
Now he sat here like an idiot, wishing he knew how to finish closing the distance between them and knowing he never would.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked, pulling back so she could look him in the eye.
“I . . . What were you . . . I got distracted.” Was his face on fire? It felt like it was on fire.
“By what?” She glanced around the room and then met his eyes again. Her expression softened, and that shy, secret smile played across her lips.
His words were rushed. “You said you took a contract.”
“That’s why I needed to go to my room and change without Maarit deciding to tag along. I’d folded it up and stuffed it down my”—she gestured toward the low scoop of a neckline on her dress—“you know.”
Yes, his face was definitely on fire.
He shrugged like he had no idea what she meant, and her smile widened. The silence between them became a thing of tension and anticipation that made his heart thud against his chest while his stomach felt as if he’d jumped from a cliff.
He cast about for something—anything—to say that would break the tension, but then they heard the front door to the villa open. Footsteps moved briskly down the main hallway and into the back of the house. A moment later, the footsteps returned, rapidly crossing into the dining room and toward the kitchen.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Don’t do anything dangerous for me.”
He squeezed back and then let her go as Teague, his pipe in his mouth and his golden eyes ablaze, entered the room.
THIRTY-ONE
TEAGUE STALKED ACROSS the kitchen and stood in front of Ari and Sebastian on the opposite side of the table, his exquisitely tailored clothing still unwrinkled and mostly dry. Ari guessed even the rain didn’t dare upset the Wish Granter.
The rain didn’t, but Sebastian apparently did. Ignoring the way Teague’s eyes glowed with fury, the way his lips clamped around the stem of his pipe in a hard, white line, Sebastian rose to his feet, picked up the sack he’d brought with him, and tossed it onto Teague’s side of the table. It hit with a thud and the jingle of coins.
Teague yanked his pipe from his mouth and said in his polished marble voice, “How did you find this place?”
“I’m resourceful.” Sebastian’s voice was the kind of dangerous quiet that meant he had himself under tight control, but if you pushed him too hard, he would come off his chain with a vengeance. Ari had only ever heard him use that voice once—when he was escorting her through east Kosim Thalas and the boys, who were gathered on doorsteps and street corners, called out creative suggestions for things Ari could do with her body.
At the time, she’d felt comforted that Sebastian clearly wouldn’t tolerate anyone abusing her honor. Now she took one look at Teague’s feral golden eyes and scrambled to her feet, panic closing her throat.
Sebastian wasn’t messing with a mouthy boy now. He was facing down a fae monster, and Ari didn’t have any bargaining capital left if he got in over his head.
“She’s under contract to me.” Teague’s eyes flicked over her, and even though her skin was flushed with heat, Ari shivered. “There’s nothing you can do to rescue her. And now you’ve invaded my home, assaulted my guards—”
“I’ve done far more than that.”
“Sebastian,” Ari whispered, but he didn’t look at her.
“Oh, I’ve heard.” Teague cocked his head to study Sebastian the way someone might study an ant before grinding it to death beneath his boot. “Robbing me, beating my employees, making sure I know that you know where all my business holdings are.”
Sebastian ignored him and pulled a folded piece of parchment from an inner pocket of his vest.
“Did you expect me to find you? To stop you?” Teague’s smile was cruel. “No doubt that was your plan. Distract me by making me believe one boy poses a threat to my empire so that I fail to pay attention to the true prize you’re trying to take from me.”
The food she’d eaten was a rock resting in her stomach as Ari said, “I’m not a prize.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, my dear.” Teague’s cold voice filled the room. “You are intelligent, intuitive, and are showing signs of being good at finding ways to trim the fat off my business and make me a far richer man. Plus, with you as my prisoner, the king has no choice but to advance my interests in the other kingdoms however I instruct him to. I’m pleased with my choice to spare you, but now I must weigh that choice with this boy’s actions.”
Sebastian unfolded the parchment he held and cleared his throat.
“How much has he taken from me? How much work has he cost me by incapacitating my employees?” Teague stared at Ari, and she tried hard not to tremble beneath the icy rage on his face. “Is it more than what you bring to the table? An investment is only worth keeping if it continues to pay dividends.”
He was going to take her soul. She could practically see the plan forming in his mind, the intent spilling out of the icy, unreachable part of him that showed its face whenever he thought she might try to cross him.
Her knees shook, and there was a strange ringing in her ears as he locked eyes with her and opened his mouth. She grabbed for the table with shaking hands and dropped to the bench as her legs refused to hold her.
“Aegeus Pappos. Pipe weed shipment. Thirty kepas.” Sebastian’s voice was steady.
Teague frowned.
“Nico Alferis. Weekly protection fee for his smithy. One hundred kepas.”
Teague broke Ari’s gaze and looked at Sebastian instead. Ari wrapped her arms around her stomach.
“Zenia Demataki. Four drams of lily root to treat her daughter’s illness. Two hundred seventy-five kepas.”
“What is this?” Teague rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his ivory pipe and reached for the bag of coin with his free hand while Ari struggled to breathe past the noose of panic that had wrapped itself around her throat.
“That is the payment due from everyone on your collection list.” Sebastian met the fae’s eyes.
“And how did you get that list?” Teague’s voice was far too quiet for Ari’s comfort.
“I stole it.” Sebastian seemed to take up more space than he had before. Maybe it was the grim confidence in his voice or the way he flexed his (still unfairly distracting) shoulders. “I beat my way through Felman and his guards, took the list, and then beat anyone who tried to take it from me. I’ve spent the last five days collecting every debt owed to you. It’s all in the sack.”