That got a reaction. Lareth straightened slightly, interest sharpening. “Did you now?”
“Not officially. I wasn’t marked. Just knew someone who needed things moved fast and quiet. I didn’t ask questions.”
“And what happened to this…connection of yours?”
Riven smiled faintly. “Burned me. Left me holding a bag I couldn’t drop. That’s why I’m here.”
Technically not a lie. Just sideways enough to piss Thane off if he ever heard it. Which, if this worked, he wouldn’t.
The other elf shifted again, less amused now. “You’re saying you ran contraband for House Virellien and they double-crossed you?”
“I’m saying,” Riven said carefully, “I don’t owe them anything anymore. And I’d rather work for people who pay straight.”
Lareth’s grin widened. “You’ve got stones, I’ll give you that. Most people don’t walk into a place like this and name-drop a Great House. Especially not that one.”
“I figured if I didn’t mention it, you’d find out anyway. Better to be honest.”
Another half-lie, or maybe a whole one. The edges were starting to blur.
Lareth leaned forward, elbows on knees, expression still amused but less distant now. “So you want in. What’s in it for us?”
“You need someone who doesn’t look like a soldier, doesn’t smell like a crew kid. Someone who can pass between worlds. Talk to the Vires if you need it, deal with House types without flinching. I’ve done all that.”
“You’re not worried about running into your old employers?”
Riven held Lareth’s gaze steadily. “Like I said. I don’t owe them anything.”
Another little crack in the story. He wasn’t sure if it was the look in Lareth’s eyes or the weight of the room pressing in, but he kept going, leaning just a bit further out over the edge.
“I’m not just here because I need work. I want to make sure I never have to crawl back. That means earning trust with people who have the kind of reach I need.”
Lareth tilted his head. “Trust takes time.”
“I’m not asking for your secrets,” Riven said. “Just a job. Something small. Let me prove I’m useful.”
“You’re a little too eager for a man with options.”
Riven met the accusation head-on. “I don’t have options. That’s why I’m good.”
Lareth studied him for a long moment. “And if I told you to prove yourself right now?”
“Then I’d ask what needs doing.”
A smile curved slow and sharp across Lareth’s face. “Maybe you’ll get the chance.”
Riven took the vial and made a show of examining it. “When this hits the streets, you’re going to be drowning in cash. I want in.”
Lareth’s mouth quirked up. “Don’t want a taste, then?” Riven shook his head. “Good. I don’t fuck with people who sample the merchandise. Bad for supply.”
A test, and Riven had passed—for now.
“Tell you what. I like you. Give me your number. I’m going to have a shipment to move in a week or so. I’ll hit you up when it’s ready, give you your first job. On a trial basis, of course.”
Riven slid his phone over to Lareth, watching as he added himself to Riven’s contacts. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, rising.
Lareth waved him off with a faint smirk. “I get a good vibe from you. Don’t get dead.”
Riven descended the stairs, his skin still crawling from the proximity to the vial of Soulglass. He didn’t exhale until he hit the street, the cool night air crashing against him like surf.
