“No, he’ll be here any moment. And they didn’t want you to panic,” he added. “I was supposed to assure you that everything would be fine, it’s just that, uh … We could all die if you mess it up.”
My throat went dry. Bloody hell, was it Diamond Danny? The East Side Ripper? “Who are you talking about?” I asked.
The guard cleared his throat. “He asked for the best we had. And Ernald said it was you, Zahra.”
My nerves crackled. “Who is coming, exactly, Jack? What’s his name?”
“It’s the count from Castle Hades. Count Saklas.”
5
Lila
I felt like the floor was tilting beneath me.
Rumor was that the count was an angel. Some people said that was bollocks, but I believed it too, after I saw his otherworldly eyes. He was a supernatural conqueror, and this was so much worse than the East Side Ripper.
“Holy fuck,” I blurted, nearly forgetting that I was supposed to be the cool, seductive Lady Zahra. “You really think it’s him? The actual count? I didn’t know he left his castle.”
“Was a bit of a surprise. A Clovian count like him. Didn’t think he’d consort with the likes of us. I have no idea what sort of strange things he, uh… but you know just call if …” He cleared his throat, then trailed off again. “Well don’t call unless something really terrible happens, because I’m probably not supposed to interfere in his case. What with him being able to shut this whole operation down and have us executed. He could hang us all outside his castle gates. One word from him and we’ll all be dangling at the end of ropes, feet dancing in the air.”
My stomach was twisting in knots. “That sort of imagery isn’t really helpful right now, Jack.”
“But that’s why Ernald said it had to be you. Cos you’re the best, like. That’s what he said. I didn’t ask what you do that’s so special, cos that’s none of my business. Though admittedly I was a bit curious. What you do with your uh…” He cleared his throat. “With your muff.”
“Well, that’s my secret, Jack, and it’s what makes me the best courtesan in Dovren. For the love of God is there any alcohol in here?”
He nodded at a small table. “Champagne. I don’t think you’re supposed to drink it yourself.”
“Jack, it’s all part of the courtesan trade. You wouldn’t understand.” I crossed to the small table near the bed, and popped the cork. A little of it fizzed from the bottle. I poured a glass—one for me, and one for the terrifying angelic tyrant I was supposed to seduce.
Jack was still adjusting his collar, as though he were already imagining being hanged. “Ernald said you could talk fancy and all that. You’re one of the sophisticated courtesans who can read. Speak a bit of Clovian like the upper classes. Fit in a bit more with a count like him.”
Oh, bollocks. I downed a long sip of champagne, then wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. “Any idea what the count is interested in?”
He looked painfully perplexed, his forehead wrinkled. He shrugged. “Shagging?”
“Do you believe in angels?”
“Nahh… Angels? No. I think those feathers like that come from fancy swans and things.” He scratched his beard, then added. “I don’t believe in nothing, really.”
Well, that was that. “Thanks. Good talk, Jack.” I started pouring more champagne for myself.
“I’d better go.” He pointed at a door on the far wall, one that blended into the silky pink wallpaper. “He’ll be coming through there. Good luck with the uh …” he waved vaguely at my crotch, then gave me a thumbs-up.
“Okay. Thanks.”
As soon as he left, I drank the entire glass of champagne. Then as I waltzed around the room, I gave myself a pep talk. “You can do this, Lila. Zahra. Get the upper hand. Get control of the situation. Tickle him with his own feather. Maybe murder him to save your kingdom. It’ll be fine.”
My mind whirled.
Much as I tried to convince myself this was fine, Jack did have a point. Count Saklas had complete power over everything. If I made him angry, we’d all be crow food. He could burn Bibliotek to the ground.
I touched the little raven tattoo on my bicep. Idly, I wondered what would happen if someone got rid of the count. Maybe the Albians would rule Albia once more.
When I thought of the count, it was hard not to feel a pang of grief. Because that castle had swallowed up my sister.
The Clovians had ruled Dovren nearly as long as I could remember. I was ten when the Great War happened, when the Clovians invaded.
Less than half our soldiers returned, and the ones who did seemed haunted by nightmares, fits of trembling. None of them were right in the head anymore. Whatever they’d endured had been unspeakable.
And now? Every extra penny we made went to paying back the Clovians. Taxes for the war they started.
What if someone could kill him? I swallowed hard, shocked that I was even imagining it. I had killed a man before—a drunk pervert trying to rip off my clothes. Didn’t regret it one bit. But he’d hardly been the sort of threat that the count was.
I glanced at the door, wishing Zahra would knock on it to free me before I did something stupid.
“Just go along with it,” I muttered to myself, twirling the feather between my fingertips.
Ten years ago, when I was fifteen, Alice and I had scaled the outer castle walls, fingers and toes nestled between the stones. We were good at scaling walls. On top of a parapet, we caught a glimpse of the count himself, striding along the walkway. Tall and powerfully built, he walked with an unearthly elegance. As always, he wore a cloak with a cowl pulled up over his head. Though his face had been in shadow, I could have sworn he’d looked right at me. His eyes were an unnerving, unnatural gray , like steel. They glowed in the darkness.
And they’d seemed wrong. Unearthly. Lethal, somehow. I’d felt my heart stop at that moment.
That was when I knew he wasn’t mortal.
Unconsciously, I was brushing the feather along my wrist, feeling my pulse race even as my muscles softened and relaxed. When I looked down, I saw that it had left a faint golden sheen on my skin, like a divine gloss.
I’d heard fallen angels had a taste for human women. That we were their weakness.
Even worse, I’d heard rumors that they drove mortals mad with lust. I hoped nothing like that would be happening in the next ten minutes.
Zahra, where are you?
What I needed right now was some luck. There was an old Albian folk tale—you knock on stone three times, and you ask the Raven King for protection.
And if there was ever a time to ask for protection, it was now. I crossed to the fireplace, rapped on the stony mantel three times, and muttered a prayer to the Blessed Raven. Then, I tottered back to the bed.
I perched on the end, crossed my legs, and smiled. I snatched the champagne, taking another long sip. The bubbles were starting to go to my head, which was good.
I heard a creaking of the floorboards. Zahra, come to save me?
But before I could explore that fantasy too deeply, the door opened.
And in walked one of the tallest men I’d ever seen, his face shrouded by a cloak.