The ticket seller’s eyes go wide. Her lips flicker with a half smile as if she can’t tell whether he’s joking. I cross my arms and give the Huntsman a pointed look, waiting for him to acknowledge I was right. When he neither looks my way nor takes back his outrageous request, the ticket seller says, “Sir, you cannot simply demand an audience with Madame Fury—”
Her voice cuts off as the Huntsman flashes his coin. He slides it through the slot at the bottom of the ticket window. The fae gingerly takes the coin in her hands and examines it. Then, with trembling fingers, she shoves the coin back under the slot and stammers, “Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Or…as…as soon as I can. Let me show you to the parlor where you can wait for her.”
With a slow, crooked smile spreading across his lips, the Huntsman turns toward me and meets my eyes. “What did I say, Miss Snow? Simple.”
* * *
A few minutes later,we stand in the parlor inside Department Wrath. It’s located on the main floor near the ticket counter, kept private behind two immense doors. The ticket seller left us alone, promising to do her best to secure a meeting. All we can do now is wait.
I can’t bear to look at the Huntsman’s gloating face, so I wander the elegant room, taking in the plush rugs, the mahogany furniture, the gilded portraits of fighters lining the walls. I’ve never entered Wrath through the front door, nor have I been in this room before. It’s meant as a place for esteemed guests and those with private boxes to await the start of the fights in style. Everyone else has to stand in line until the doors open. It reminds me of the two jobs I still need to finish. I never did get very far with Mr. Donnelly last night. Thanks to my captor.
I glance over my shoulder at him and find him watching me from a few feet away. It brings to mind how he looked when he caught me in the alley. I’d been so content with my fluffy friends, I hadn’t noticed when he’d arrived. But when I did see him, I was startled to find him staring so intently.
It was almost as if he couldseeme.
I push the impossible thought from my mind, but it’s replaced with another memory involving the Huntsman—how he looked when he held Madeline. For the briefest moment, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not a smug grin. A true and genuine smile. I must admit, it was easy on the eyes. I’m not one for swooning, but if ever I did, it would be over a smile like that.
But nothissmile, of course. No, I couldn’t swoon overhim.
I lift my chin and turn my gaze to the nearest portrait. It’s one of Helody, the griffin who fought the ogre last night. Her expression brims with pride while her sharp beak warns of her temper. Whoever the artist is, they captured her perfectly.
A stab of pain sinks my heart. I can’t even think of the wordartistwithout being reminded of my father. “I’m surprised you didn’t come here without me,” I say, mostly to distract myself from the grief that threatens to drag me down.
The Huntsman grunts in reply before gracing me with a true response. “Why do you say that?”
I wander to the next portrait, one of a unicorn who retired from fighting years ago. “Because you left without me this morning. What exactly were you doing?”
He scoffs. “Aside from getting us new clothing and arranging a much-needed bath for you?”
I scowl at themuch-needed bathpart, but I realize he too has cleaned up and wears fresh clothing. I wouldn’t have noticed it isn’t the same outfit he wore last night if not for the lack of tears. Much like yesterday, he’s dressed in another all-black ensemble. His trousers hug his thighs while the open collar of his shirt reveals a musculature I hadn’t glimpsed last night. He somehow manages to make such casual clothing look both formal and seductive at once. I scan his waistcoat for any sign that he still carries his handcuffs, but that summons my last memory of wearing them.
Me reaching for the key.
Him rolling on top of me…
Tearing my gaze away, I say, “Yes, aside from that.”
He takes a step closer until we’re side by side and assesses the portrait of the unicorn. “I left at first light to see if I could find any traces of the thief’s false floral scent around the hotel grounds.”
“Did you?”
He nods. “It was difficult because no matter where I caught the trail, it kept leading back to the garden. The thief clearly knows that forcing me so close to the garden confuses my senses. But I did manage to find the trail in other locations.”
“Like where?”
“Your room.”
I face him with a furrowed brow. “My room?”
“Based on the freshness of the scent trail, the thief visited your bedroom both before and after the attack. So it’s a good thing we stayed at Department Lust.”
I suppress a shudder. This proves the thief truly is after me. “Wait, how do you know where my room is?”
“The richness of your scent made it obvious,” he says, tone matter-of-fact. “I knew where to find your room the day I arrived here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Four days.”
