My father checked his phone and discreetly pocketed it swiftly. He adjusted his position in his chair, affecting calm bordering on boredom. He didn’t look my way, only slightly lifting his chin in reply.
Sirro flashed a sly smile. “Rumor has reached my ears that you’re angling for an invitation to the Witches Ball and that you’re offering Nelle as your prize. But so far…?”
There was a moment of silence in my head. Once I stepped out of the solar, something lifted the heavy weight pressing on my mind and soul. All those things that had sent me spinning onward after trapping my little bird—the coverup of the battleground, burying the dead, threatening Byron, coming out of this meeting alive with Sirro, thwarting and redirecting him from the truth that our House had been the one who’d attacked his tithe convoy…it had all disappeared. But the single person this had all been about came to the forefront.
Nelle.
And that weight descended once again, pulverizing me beneath its might.
“Nothing,” I replied, my tone flat.
But inside, I was anything but indifferent. Revulsion for myself bubbled like a stagnant pond fermenting in a baking-hot sun.
So far, we hadn’t stirred enough interest to entice a request for a Goods Appraisal. A fact that was making my family extremely nervous.
To be invited to The Witches Ball, one needed to have their possession appraised for its value. If the prize offered was deemed worthy, an invitation to the event would be issued. Time was running out for my family. A day or two after Nelle’s birthday, the appraisals would be closed off. Once again, we’d lose our shot at getting into the very place we hoped to find the Horned God that would lead to our mother’s whereabouts.
I didn’t know whether or not I was relieved. If it was better that the choice was taken away… If Nelle didn’t gain the interest of the Horned Gods, it would force us to do something desperate…
And Nelle would be safe…
But we’d lose the chance altogether to find my mother.
Sirro slipped a hand into his pocket and shifted his weight to one hip. His gaze left mine to track Byron’s movements as he strode in front of the attending members of our society. The Horned God’s voice softened with introspection. “You Crowthers really are quite ruthless. Putting Nelle up for sale at the Witches Ball. Is it retribution you seek for Tabitha? Revenge against Byron for betraying your mother? Your way of tearing Byron Wychthorn apart by selling his daughter to those creatures who only see body parts set upon an auction block?”
I didn’t respond, but I couldn’t stop the anger from burning the blood in my veins to a blistering heat.
Anger directed at myself.
There was an eager gleam in Sirro’s eyes when they met mine. “It’s a pity you can’t offer anything else if you are so desperate to get in there. And once you are, what are you going to bid on? What do the great Crowthers want?”
He surveyed me as if he could learn the truth from the nuances in my expression. I gave him nothing in return. He chuckled, shaking his head. “I thought perhaps something might blossom between you and Nelle. Both of you spending all that time together leading up to her twentieth birthday, before the Alverac bound her soul to yours permanently. I’d wondered if someone like Nelle could win you over. But not you, Graysen Crowther.” His gaze silently spoke approval. “Such a cold, black soul. Selling her at the Witches Ball…how mercenary.”
A sorrowful ache settled in my heart.
“There’s a particular Horned God, one of those creatures that spin spells, that creeps out of her hole in the ground before the Ball,” Sirro shared. “Jurgana’s rather partial to the Emporium. I’m sure she’ll arrive before the month is out.”
In my periphery, I saw Jett’s gaze slide our way, his eyes shining with eager interest.
Sirro leaned closer to whisper, “If I were you, I’d have a word with Zielenski and have him let you know when Jurgana is in attendance.”
The Emporium…
Holy hellsgate.
Everything inside me died further.
Sirro flashed a smile that showed all his teeth. “I’m sure a little display from your Wychthorn Princess would entice a Goods Appraisal. That is…if you want an invitation to the Witches Ball?”
I wanted to roar at the injustice I was going to deliver to Nelle. An innocent tangled in a betrayal woven by others.
“She was such a spirited child, full of fire,” Sirro continued, stepping closer. He was shorter than me, but right this moment I felt like I was standing in his shadow. “I’ve watched her grow through the ages. Not so much in the past few years, our paths didn’t cross, and I was detained…with…” His words drifted apartas his gaze slid along the rows of men and women in their expensive suits and handmade leather shoes, but I could tell he wasn’t focused on them at all. No, he was thinking about Nelle. Lust, heady and potent, pinched my nostrils, making me want to throat-punch the fucker. He glanced back and smiled in a way that set my teeth grinding. Then his golden eyes went molten with the desirous thought he spoke out loud. “Well, she’s all grown up now, and ever so delectable. I wouldn’t mind a bite of her.” He canted forward slightly, getting into my space. “PerhapsI’llbid on the Wychthorn Princess at the Witches Ball.”
It was a sucker punch I should have seen coming.
I almost fucking detonated.
Almost.
