He raised his hand, and to my horror, I saw one of the Fae standing on the sides, a woman, handing him a stack of papers clearly printed from the internet.
The Hallowing Hour’s latest volume.
“You see,” the boy said, smile gone, as he flipped through the paper and paused on a certain page, “you were tracking our movement without knowing that’s what you were doing, and wrote about it in this magazine, which, luckily for you, hardly anyone reads.”
He showed me the volume I hadn’t yet seen. On the front page was the story I’d finished writing a week ago, the one describing every place I’d found the shadow mark, the Underearth portal, with the latest one being at the crime scene on Sunset Boulevard almost two weeks ago.
The boy then threw the magazine on the marble floor and, with that empty expression, pointed at it and shot a literal flame out of his finger to the paper, setting it on fire.
When his violet gaze met mine again, I could tell he was no longer expressionless. There was something akin to disgust burning deep in his eyes. “You know too much,” he said flatly now. “As a Proctor of the Council for Regulation of Arcane Phenomena, I adhere to clause 3(iv) of the Motion for Irregular Threat Removal and sentence you to immediate execution.”
His words didn’t compute at first.
Not until Lucien was suddenly grabbing the Syndarch’s throat from behind, his fingers turned into sharp claws, and aiming the claws on his other hand at his chest. “You are not going to touch her,” Lucien said, voice as flat as the boy’s had been but with rage written all over his face.
The boy’s face remained impassive, though his eyes flashed again with what seemed like disgust. “You’ve done so well until now, wolf,” he said in a somewhat condescending tone that made my skin crawl. “It’s unfortunate you’re determined to ruin our negotiation.”
Lucien’s hold tightened on the boy’s neck. From the corners of my eyes, I saw the other Fae in the room, including Zairos, preparing to attack, though none of them did. I wondered why, considering their very young leader was at risk.
“That’s funny,” Lucien murmured now, voice low and a growl reverberating in his chest. “I don’t recall you trying to negotiate.”
Blaise, Teya, and Oz seemed extremely alert now, ready to defend Lucien and me at any moment. My heart suddenly raced as I realized, belatedly, that the situation had taken a turn for the absolute worst.
“I don’t mind negotiating with you about your little pack, wolf, as a gesture of good faith after our slight mishap,” the boy said now, and I could see him rolling his eyes despite the fact Lucien’s claws dug enough into his neck to draw a small amount of blood—blood that was the color purple, like his eyes, rather than red. “But the human has to die.”
“This is nonnegotiable,” Lucien said through gritted teeth. “Proctor or not, I won’t let you kill her.”
The boy gave a long-suffering sigh. “Why must you make things so difficult?” he asked, and if there wasn’t a genuine questioning tone in his voice, I would’ve thought he was being sarcastic. “You’re acting as if she’s your Eteria.”
It wasn’t just the boy who scoffed disbelievingly at the wordEteria; the Fae surrounding us, who hadn’t made a sound until now, let out similar sounds of disbelief. Teya, Blaise, and even Oz exchanged horrified looks, as they all knew what the truth was.
My heart pounded loud enough, I swore I could hear it echo in the hall.
I looked up at Lucien, who stared back, fury, worry, and fear in his eyes. And I knew just then that he didn’t want to reveal that to the boy, or to anyone else in this room, for that matter. He didn’t want to reveal what I was to him.
Or rather, he was scared.
Why? Because it would put me in more danger or something? But I was alreadyindanger—if the boy wanted to kill me, I had no doubt he could with a mere fling of his hand.
And the frustration and helplessness I could now see on Lucien’s face made it seem as though he’d reached the same conclusion.
“Killing her would make you the one who ruined any potential relationship between us, not the other way around, Syndarch,” Lucien now said in a low voice, face grim. “Because sheismy Eteria.”
Chapter 31
On the Syndarch’s Terms
The whole situation did a one-eighty after Lucien uttered the two magic words:my Eteria.
First, the boy tapped on Lucien’s arm, indicating he needed to let him go. Lucien was reluctant, but he did, and the boy landed on the floor, wiped his blood, and flicked his fingers without saying a word.
A few moments later, a simple square table was carried into the room by one of the Fae, followed by two chairs placed on each side of the table. A pair of Fae drew the chairs for Lucien and the boy to sit down on, and once they did, another Fae brought a stack of stapled papers, along with two pens.
The boy lifted a pen and said in a monotonous voice, as if he hadn’t just threatened my life or had his own life threatened by Lucien, “The contract between my Fae and Mack Page is already null and void, considering Mr. Page’s untimely demise.” He delivered this observation dryly as he scribbled something down on the paper. “I suggest we negotiate a deal between us with that in mind.”
Lucien grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together, much to the Betas’ shock, as he leaned back and said, “I would like to know the exact details of that contract.”
The boy shrugged. “It’s very simple,” he said, tapping on the desk with his pen. “Mack wanted you gone. He offered to pay my Fae with five favors in return once you were dead, and gave them an advance of two favors.”