‘And you’re lucky I didn’t do us all a favor and stab you as you strutted home,’ she mused.
Will’s arm pressed her further against the wall as his broad jaw tightened, but he paused as the wind whipped through the alley, his nose scrunching.
‘You smell like you took a bath in beer and piss.’
‘Isthathow you get into so many ladies’ beds?’
‘You want to find out?’ he drawled, his lips twisting into amischievous grin as he stepped even closer, his eyes fixed on her beneath his thick lashes.
Aya shoved him away, hard. ‘I’d rather impale myself on my own dagger.’
Will caught her hand, his eyes tracing the blood caked on her knuckles and face. ‘I see you’ve made a mess. Again.’
In the span of a breath, she’d wrenched herself out of his grip. He hit the ground with a soft thud as she swiped his feet out from beneath him.
‘Touch me again, and we’ll see if your face bleeds as richly as his.’
Will’s laugh was low and dark, but it bounced off the rough stone walls of the alleyway. ‘As always, you astound me with your charm. Gods help anyone who sees you and assumes you’re as meek as you look,’ he purred as he pushed himself up. ‘Do you have anything useful to share? If so, get on with it. I’m freezing and do, in fact, have one of those warm beds waiting for me. And you’re in desperate need of a bath.’
Aya bit back the bitter retort threatening to break free from her lips. She could walk through a bar brawl without even a hitch in her breathing, but Will …
Will had always been able to get under her skin; to poke and prod until that leash she kept on her temper didn’t just loosen, but snapped entirely.
His father, Gale, was the first Visya in the history of Dunmeaden to sit on Tala’s Merchant Council. He’d helped reinforce Tala’s place in trade, even though kingdoms like Trahir had more to offer with their rich delicacies.
It didn’t change the fact that he and his son were two of the biggest bastards she’d ever met. She’d resented them from the moment Will arrived on her doorstep thirteen years ago with news of her mother’s death on one of Gale’s voyages.
And that said nothing of the time he’d almost cost Aya her place in the Dyminara.
But he wasn’t wrong about the cold. Or the bath. As for whoever was warming his bed … that was their own misfortune.
‘Given you’re needed at the warehouse, your pleasure will have to wait. It’s weapons they’re after. The buyers are at the warehouse, but the supplier slipped out before I made it to the room. Ronan didn’t show.’
Will paused as he brushed himself off, one hand tugging through the strands of his hair as he growled, ‘What do you mean hedidn’t show?’
Despite the hells Ronan had put her through tonight, her frustration cooled at the dangerous tone of his voice. It didn’t bode well for anyone at the receiving end of Will’s wrath.
When they were younger and nothing more than peers in school, it had been easy to forget that Will’s Sensainos affinity – his ability to feel and manipulate others’ emotions and sensations – extended to fear and despair, even pain. His handsomeness hid it well. His black hair was thick and wavy, his pale skin tinged with olive, giving him an ever-present sun-kissed look. And with his sharp features and the perfectly cut clothes he wore, he looked every part a young noble. Everyone had expected him to take over his father’s merchant empire.
But then Will joined the Dyminara instead, where it became evident that his true talent wasn’t just as the queen’s overseer on Tala Merchant Council, but as her Enforcer.
Dunmeaden’s Dark Prince.
Those who had seen him dole out punishment told enough tales to inspire an edge of fear that followed him everywhere.
‘Ronan’s probably drunk at some bar,’ Aya finally muttered.
‘So you failed,’ Will replied slowly. ‘The supplier is lost.’
Aya ignored the urge to reach for her knife as she stared him down. ‘Perhaps I could’ve caught up with them if you hadn’t insisted on me playing messenger to you,’ she hissed. Reporting her findings to him like some sort of lapdog made her want to hit something.
Will merely turned toward the winding path that led to the Quarter, looking at her expectantly. Her feet dragged as she fell into step beside him and let the keening of the wind fill the silence. She’d hoped he’d go straight to the warehouse and leave her to head home in peace.
Home. For a moment, the waiting warmth of the Quarter – the small, palace-like home of the Dyminara – was enough to almost draw a moan from her lips. Her body was sore from the cold and the brawl at the bar. Hopefully Elara had kept some chaucholda out in the dining hall. It was tradition that the warm, honeyed drink be served when the Ventaleh started to howl.To keep the spirits at bay and your flesh intact, the head cook of the royal kitchens would say, her eyes set on the neighboring peaks of the Malas.The Ventaleh bows for no one, not even the Dyminara.
‘Maybe our friends from the west will be generous with their information on the supplier and I can save you the effort of tracking them down,’ Will finally muttered, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. Aya didn’t miss the threat beneath his words. ‘How did you manage to confirm they’re buying weapons?’
She shot him a look, but his gaze, still fixed ahead, was calculating, not condescending.
